Page 53 of The Wrong Drive

“I love you,” I call out to him.

He closes his eyes and turns around, giving me his back instead of returning it. My heart rips in two as he disappears intothe woods. I know I could come back. I know I could climb the fucking fence and sprint after him…

But what good would it do?

All I can hope is that somehow, Turner figures himself out. I force myself to take a deep breath, and scoop up my bags, throwing them in the backseat of my truck. I slam the door shut, and climb into the driver’s seat, staring at the locked gate.

How will he find me if he wants to? Or does he not want to?

I purse my lips, sniffling as I flip open my console. I grab one of the blank Christmas cards from the box of cards I never sent. I pull it out, and scribble a note for him, leaving my phone number at the bottom. It’s probably a waste, since I can assume he doesn’t check his mail. However, I still shove it in the envelope, write his name on the front, and shove it in the black, rusted box just outside the gate.

I then climb back inside my truck, and I leave him.

Merry fucking Christmas, Turner.

Chapter 25

Turner

I stare downat the phone in my hand, and then flick my gaze across the room to Gunner, who’s sitting a few feet away. He’s watching me carefully, as if somehow, he’s been put in charge of ensuring I follow through. I run my tongue along my bottom lip. It would sure as shit be easier had I just went to the barn and done what I originally intended to do.

‘Please get help.’I hear Em’s voice in my head. It’s been nearly a month since she left. I haven’t paid any attention to the news, but no one has shown up here to search my property or arrest me. I haven’t heard word on anything at all. It’s as if everything just went right back to the way it was…

Everything but me.

I rake my hands over my face and set the phone down on the desk, standing to my feet. As I do, I peer out the window, spotting the mailman dropping by my mailbox. I might be detached from the world, but I swear I still get shitty junk mail like everyone else. I slip out of the room, Gunner hot on my heels. Thundering down the stairs, I head for the front door, stopping to slide on my boots and grab my parka.

“Come on,” I instruct Gunner, heading out the front door. My heart thrums in my chest as I start down the driveway. There’sbeen a couple more snows since she left, and if I had to guess, the search for her ex-boyfriend has been suspended until the thaw later this spring. I take a deep breath, shoving my hands in my pocket.

Maybe I should’ve tried to make things work with her.I frown at the thought. As much as Iwantthat to have been a possibility, I know that it’s not. I spent ten years living in a daze of violence… Two weeks with Em can’t heal years of trauma. It doesn’t work that way, and I’m not the kind of man who’s going to pretend that it does. I need to reach out to someone who understands—and I haven’t done it yet.

I’m letting you down, Em.

My boots crunch in the snow as I make it to the gate, I fish out the key, unlock it, and slip through. Gunner waits for me on the other side while I flip the lid open. I fish out a handful of envelopes, and then stand there sifting through it. It’s all junk…

Until I reach the bottom envelope.

Turneris the only thing scrawled on it. I stare at it, my heart flipflopping in my chest. I glance around, wondering ifshedid it or if someone else drove out here. I rip it open to see a lame Christmas card. Sighing, I flip it open.

Turner,

I know you’ve made up your mind, and that’s fine. I get it. I’d never expect you to jump back into society, and I’m sorry I made you feel that way. But I meant what I said. I love you, and I would’ve happily stood by your side through everything. I hope you find happiness, and if you ever change your mind…

I’ll be here.

Love,

Em

There’s a phone number scrawled at the bottom, and I zone out on the numbers for a few long moments, while my head tortures me with the flashbacks of her in my bed. It’s hardenough living without her, and now my mind has shifted to reminding me of just how miserable that loss is. I shove the card in my pocket, and then slip back through the gate, shutting and locking it. I no longer dummy lock it anymore.

Idon’twant someone showing up here again.

I make the trek back to the house, stopping to dump the rest of the mail into the steel barrel I’ll burn later. I then climb the porch steps and stomp the snow off the bottom of my boots. I cast my eyes out across the snowy woods, my chest aching as I take in desolation—the same that I found so much fucking comfort in for years. Now, I’m just reminded constantly that there’s someone out there, outside of these walls, thatcares.

Gunner lets out a whine at the door, breaking my thoughts. I spin on my heels and head inside for the evening, slipping off my shoes and locking the door behind me. I pull the card from my jacket as I hang it up on the rack, and head back up the stairs.

I glance down at her words again.I’m so fucking sorry, Em. I wish I could be stable enough for you.I ascend the stairs back to the room, where the fully charged phone sits there, with four bars of service. I unlock it, and type in Em’s number. My thumb hovers over the greencallbutton, my heart in my ears.

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