Page 158 of Saving Her

“She likes him,” Sarah replies. “If you would’ve seen them together over the last week, you’d agree with me. She’s smitten. And he can’t get away fast enough.”

Oh, God.

I clench my stomach as I reach the island counter, holding in a sob.

I’m a joke. A fucking punchline.

All this time I never knew.

I slide my hand over the marble, my palm covering Hunter’s keychain and the attached car fob.

I have to face my fear of the outside world and escape this fake environment. I’ll take his car. Drive far, far away. Then… I don’t know.

I’ll think of something. All I know is that I can’t stay here.

I drag the treasure toward me, the slightest clink announcing my robbery.

I pause, but it’s too late.

The movie stops and Hunter glances over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

I freeze. Panic. After a lifetime spent lying to protect myself, I’m at a loss for words.

“Penny?” Sarah asks.

I inch my hand behind my hip and shrug. “I thought I felt hungry. But now that food is in front of me I’ve changed my mind again.” I give a chuckle that sounds too brittle. “I might take a shower and have an early night instead.”

I slowly retrace my steps toward the hall, not meeting their gazes even though their combined focus burns holes through me.

“Penny,” Hunter grates. “Show me your hands.”

I flinch, my body’s involuntary reaction a glaring red flag as I move closer and closer to the hall.

“Show me your hands,” he repeats, his hulking frame rising from the sofa.

My heart lodges in my throat.

“Penny,” he warns.

I run.

I don’t stop when I hear him curse. I push faster, only pausing to fling open the front door before scampering outside. I sprint across the icy lawn to the huge black suburban parked in the driveway, clicking the buttons on the fob until the indicators flash bright into the fading daylight.

Freedom is within reach. Frightening, isolating freedom.

I yank open the car door as Hunter explodes from the house, Sarah following behind.

“Don’t even think about it,” he yells.

He’s right. The time for thinking is over.

I climb into the tank of a car, tug the door shut, and lock it as both of them barrel toward me.

There’s so much panic. I can’t think straight through my pounding pulse, my shaking limbs.

It’s been years since I sat behind the wheel. Everything is foreign. The push start. My foot on the pedal. I don’t even bother to figure out how to move the seat forward in an effort to help me drive properly. There’s no time.

I press the button ignition. The engine rumbles to life. Hunt reaches my door, tugging at the handle, banging on the window.

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