Page 6 of Burn the Wild

“Really.” His earnest eyes bring tears to mine. “I won’t tell anyone where you are.”

A sob climbs up my throat, but I choke it down. Now’s not the time to lose it. “Thank you.”

“You look tired,” Grady says. “It’ll give you time to—to rest.”

I close my eyes, appreciating him not sayingtoget better, even though we both know I’m this close to having a mental breakdown.

“I’ll text you the address. They’re good guys. I’ll call them and tell them you’re coming.”

With a careful grip on my elbow, Grady walks me to the bank of the Cumberland. “Take my car.” Cool metal presses into my palm. “Parking garage. Third floor, black Mustang.” He drops my arm, his voice soft with encouragement. “You got this.”

I inhale a breath, clinging to the promise of hope, of quiet, of the wild burn of freedom that awaits me.

Just be brave, Reese.

I run. Away from my life and into another.

Even if a little voice in my head tells me it’s hopeless. Gavin will find me. He always does.

TWO DAYS LATER

Iwake to a hard-on and a phone call.

“Fuck.” I rub my brow, fighting my way through the dream of some soft-eyed blonde grinding her ass against me. Blowing out a hard breath, I pat the sheets, adjust myself.

The phone, however, is still buzzing.

Turning over, I glare at my nightstand. My cell phone falls silent.

With a shake of my head, I decide it’s time to get back to sleep.

And back to my dream girl.

Only the air rushes out of me as a furry dark ball lands on my stomach.

I groan. “Jesus, Mouse.”

The black cat my sister-in-law pawned off on me last year prowls forward. Her big green eyes flicker in the dark. She raises one svelte paw and gives it a lick.

I lift up on my elbows. “Can you not stalk me? I don’t need this shit in my life right now.”

Mouse settles for kneading my stomach. I give her a scratch on the rump as she settles into my side. As annoying as she is, she’s my shadow. A dirty, dumpster-diving garage cat, but I can’t help but love her.

My phone erupts. Mouse launches herself off the bed.

“Fuck,” I blast.

This time, I’m alert.

If someone’s calling at this ungodly hour, something’s wrong.

My family.

The thought causes my heart rate to spike. I snatch up my phone.

“Ford?” The voice comes tinny and harried.

“Wy?” I squint into the dark. “Where are you?”

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