Page 57 of Second Chance Savior

My eyes darted between the windshield and the rearview, waiting for it to come back in sight. But my instincts were already on alert. Something about the shape.

I took my foot off the accelerator, checking our speed.

“But when you think about it,” she said, “is there any point to hiding this stuff? Really?”

My grip had tightened on the steering wheel. I forced it to relax. “Charlie. Listen.”

“Ross and I broke up seven years ago. He’s married to someone else now.”

The SUV came into view.Oh fuck.

“Charlie.”

She rubbed her face. “You and I have all this unresolvedstuffbetween us, and?—”

“There’s a cop car behind us.”

“Oh my?—”

“Don’t turn around.”

She sank down in the seat, muttering curses. “Oh jeez. What’s he doing? Is he pulling us over?”

“He’s matching our speed.”

“If he suspected us of something, he’d pull us over.”

“Or he might be notifying his friends at Stillwater so they can meet us up ahead. Cut us off.”

“Thanks for the optimism. What are we going to do?”

If this was just a local officer out on patrol, it would be foolish for me to make a sudden move and draw his attention. If he acted aggressively or someone else appeared to threaten us, I’d react accordingly.

“Wait it out. That’s all we can do.”

Charlie reached for my hand. I flipped my palm so it was against hers. Laced our fingers together. I wished it didn’t feel so good.

Ten Years Ago

Nobody answered when I knocked on my mom’s front door. Probably because of the Christmas tunes blaring from inside.

Mom would have a spare key hidden somewhere, but there was no need. The knob turned when I tried it. “Hey, it’s me,” I called out. “Your favorite sailor is home from war. Somebody better kiss me.”

Carrying a stack of gifts and my duffel, I barged into the kitchen. And there was Charlotte, decked out in red and green.

“I’m not kissing you,” she deadpanned.

My smile might’ve slipped by a millimeter, but I was sure she didn’t notice.

“Grumpy Charlie! It’s been a while.” Exactly a year and three months. Before that, it had been my father’s funeral.

“Still with the nickname? It took forever to get my sisters to stop calling me that.”

“But it’s so fitting.”

“Maybe I should call you Revolting River.”

“Except you adore me, so that doesn’t work at all.”

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