The plea in his growl was what shook me.
I was devoured by an uprising of mortification. I couldn’t believe I had just sat there staring at his mouth like some crazy addict attracted to him.
Okay, so I was attracted… very attracted, but to sit there and gawk? Really? What the hell was wrong with me?
“I’m—I’m sorry…” My tongue stumbled over itself blurting out the apology. My cold, clammy palm touched my sweaty brow, my hand trembling. “I don’t…”
His eyes seemed to darken further at the apology. The muscle along the slant of his jaw jumped. I was so busy watching the hypnotic pulse beneath the golden stretch of flesh that I actually jumped when a loud crack shattered the air like splintering wood. I half-expected to see a tree falling on us. Instead, my gaze dropped away from the leaping flames behind his gaze to the white-knuckled grip he had around the table edge, and the deep fracture running the length of the glossy surface just inches from where his blunt fingernails clutched the table.
The breath in my throat caught.
“What—?” But he was out of his seat and practically running out of the diner before I could finish.
I traced the crack with an unsteady finger. Had it always been there? It must have been. But how did I miss it? The table was practically in two, held together only by a small sliver of wood in the middle where the pole attached at the bottom to the floor; it was as though an elephant had sat on it.
Images of Isaiah’s hold filled my mind. I could almost see the death grip he’d had on the table. But how could a person break a solid table with only his fingertips?
People can’t throw fireballs with their bare hands either… a small voice in the back of my mind pointed out.
“OhmiGod!”
I don’t remember getting out of my seat, but I was running before I could even second-guess my next course of action. The waitress behind the counter yelled after me, but I hit the glass door with shattering force and all but landed on my face on the other side. My shoulder throbbed like I’d run into an oncoming train. I stumbling, but kept running. It didn’t even matter where I was running as long as it was far away from the crazy world I’d fallen into as possible.
Cars screeched and honked when I lunged across the street without looking. I ignored the shouts of profanity, keeping my whole focus screwed on the Impala parked in front of the motel. The Rust-Bucket had never looked so welcoming. A handful of feet away from promised freedom, and the motel door opened and Edger emerged, wiping his hands on a motel towel. He spotted me before I could hide — not that there was anywhere to hide.
“Oh, good, I was about to call Isaiah,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the room. “All done in there. I left the ashes on the table.”
Ashes… Mom…
I didn’t even ask how he did it. I didn’t thank him either. I shouldered straight into the room and went into instant alert. My breathing pulsed in my ears as I raced in, grabbed the tin box and ran out. I stalled long enough to glance up and down the parking lot, trembling with panic even though I repeatedly told myself I had a right to leave if I wanted to. That I wasn’t a prisoner. That Isaiah couldn’t stop me — wouldn’t stop me. Still I expelled a sigh of relief when I didn’t spot him.
Wasting no more time, I crawled into the driver’s seats, slammed the car door and peeled out of there with an earsplitting screech. The last thing I saw before turning the corner was Edger’s puzzled expression. But that was easily dismissed with a quick adjustment of the rearview mirror. I took the first three rights, then two lefts, followed by another right, just in case Edger told Isaiah which road I took. From there, I floored the gas pedal and shot straight for the highway, keeping a careful eye out for anything that might stop me, like cops or a giant, black motorcycle.
“Okayokayokay.” Now that the
I was devoured by an uprising of mortification. I couldn’t believe I had just sat there staring at his mouth like some crazy addict attracted to him.
Okay, so I was attracted… very attracted, but to sit there and gawk? Really? What the hell was wrong with me?
“I’m—I’m sorry…” My tongue stumbled over itself blurting out the apology. My cold, clammy palm touched my sweaty brow, my hand trembling. “I don’t…”
His eyes seemed to darken further at the apology. The muscle along the slant of his jaw jumped. I was so busy watching the hypnotic pulse beneath the golden stretch of flesh that I actually jumped when a loud crack shattered the air like splintering wood. I half-expected to see a tree falling on us. Instead, my gaze dropped away from the leaping flames behind his gaze to the white-knuckled grip he had around the table edge, and the deep fracture running the length of the glossy surface just inches from where his blunt fingernails clutched the table.
The breath in my throat caught.
“What—?” But he was out of his seat and practically running out of the diner before I could finish.
I traced the crack with an unsteady finger. Had it always been there? It must have been. But how did I miss it? The table was practically in two, held together only by a small sliver of wood in the middle where the pole attached at the bottom to the floor; it was as though an elephant had sat on it.
Images of Isaiah’s hold filled my mind. I could almost see the death grip he’d had on the table. But how could a person break a solid table with only his fingertips?
People can’t throw fireballs with their bare hands either… a small voice in the back of my mind pointed out.
“OhmiGod!”
I don’t remember getting out of my seat, but I was running before I could even second-guess my next course of action. The waitress behind the counter yelled after me, but I hit the glass door with shattering force and all but landed on my face on the other side. My shoulder throbbed like I’d run into an oncoming train. I stumbling, but kept running. It didn’t even matter where I was running as long as it was far away from the crazy world I’d fallen into as possible.
Cars screeched and honked when I lunged across the street without looking. I ignored the shouts of profanity, keeping my whole focus screwed on the Impala parked in front of the motel. The Rust-Bucket had never looked so welcoming. A handful of feet away from promised freedom, and the motel door opened and Edger emerged, wiping his hands on a motel towel. He spotted me before I could hide — not that there was anywhere to hide.
“Oh, good, I was about to call Isaiah,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the room. “All done in there. I left the ashes on the table.”
Ashes… Mom…
I didn’t even ask how he did it. I didn’t thank him either. I shouldered straight into the room and went into instant alert. My breathing pulsed in my ears as I raced in, grabbed the tin box and ran out. I stalled long enough to glance up and down the parking lot, trembling with panic even though I repeatedly told myself I had a right to leave if I wanted to. That I wasn’t a prisoner. That Isaiah couldn’t stop me — wouldn’t stop me. Still I expelled a sigh of relief when I didn’t spot him.
Wasting no more time, I crawled into the driver’s seats, slammed the car door and peeled out of there with an earsplitting screech. The last thing I saw before turning the corner was Edger’s puzzled expression. But that was easily dismissed with a quick adjustment of the rearview mirror. I took the first three rights, then two lefts, followed by another right, just in case Edger told Isaiah which road I took. From there, I floored the gas pedal and shot straight for the highway, keeping a careful eye out for anything that might stop me, like cops or a giant, black motorcycle.
“Okayokayokay.” Now that the
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