Page 88 of Escaping Our Reality

Worry circles my heart when I hear Ry ask that question, and I cross the distance between us, trying to listen in on the phone call. Beer still in hand, Ry wraps his arm around my waist. The cold bottle makes a wet mark on my stomach.

“Well, I can bring the wrecker, come get you, and take you to the party. You were planning on staying the night with your son, anyway, right?”

…

“Lulu can wait here for the customer. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

…

“No, the customer is a female. I wouldn’t leave Lulu here if it were a male. But this is Scott Turner’s sister. I met her once before. Married with kids.”

…

“Okay. Sit tight. I’m on my way.”

He barely hangs up before I pounce on him in curiosity. Tossing the half drank beer in the trash, he walks over to the wall to grab the wrecker keys from their hanging perch. “Harlan hit a deer. Front end of his truck is completely wrecked. I’m gonna go get him, take him to the party. Are you okay to wait for the customer?”

“Of course. Absolutely. She’s just dropping off, right? No paperwork I need to give her? Nothing to ring up?”

“That’s right. Just a drop and go. I already have all her contact information, so we are good there.”

“And Harlan’s okay?”

“He sounds perfectly fine, but I’ll let you know once I get there and check on him.”

“Okay. Be safe.” I lean up on my toes, and Ry wraps me in a hug. One of his all-encompassing, full-body hugs.

Heaving me into his arms, my feet dangle in the air, leaving the toes of my sandals scraping against the concrete floor. He plants a quick peck on my mouth before setting me down. “Since I have to go to town, I’ll just pick us up some food. Preference?”

I smile wickedly and clap my hands in front of me. “Yes.”

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Grabbing his ballcap on the way out of the garage, he yanks it backward on his head, hollering behind him. “Two Philly cheesesteaks coming right up.”

About twenty minutes after he leaves, Ry texts to let me know that Harlan is fine, and about ten minutes after that, the customer comes to drop off her car. Grabbing the keys to her black sedan, I watch in amusement as a minivan pulls into theparking lot to pick her up and honks the horn. Sighing deeply, she rolls her eyes. “Universal Studios. We’re doing half the drive tonight. Three kids all under the age of eight. Pray for me.”

Laughing, I stand, waving goodbye until they pull out onto the main road. I find her paperwork and tape the key to her folder, storing it in the drawer underneath the register. So, with nothing better to do, I turn on my laptop and start a crime show.

I know I should lower the large bay garage door, but I don’t. It’s nice outside tonight with a light breeze, so I decide to leave it open while I wait for Ry.

Once again, I always do what I shouldn’t.

I’m absorbed in a documentary about blood splatter when a loud noise outside draws my attention. It sounded like someone throwing an aluminum can? Hitting the light post, maybe?

I ignore it, thinking it’s probably just some underage drunk kid making a beer run to the gas station and they probably parked closer to our end of the parking lot to avoid the prying eyes of the gas station traffic.

But the noise happens again.

Being the dumbass that I am, I get up to investigate.

And that’s when I see someone leaning against the back of my SUV. It’s hard to make out much in the dark, but the thin frame tells me that it’s probably a teenager. Younger than me, maybe. Stiffening my spine and squaring my shoulders, I take a few steps in that direction. “We’re closed. This is private property. Not part of the gas station. So, you need to move on, okay?”

The kid is smoking a cigarette and he completely ignores me.

Rude little shit.

I walk in the direction of my car. “Hey, come on. Time to head out, buddy.”

Stomping on the cigarette, he shifts underneath the glow of the lamp post, and I see that my first impression was quite wrong. Very wrong. Really wrong.

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