Page 41 of The Prodigal

“I see. Well, when do you think youcanmake it?”

I wonder if Grant, who is several years older than my uncle Astor, will curse at me if I tell him the truth. My father would. So would my uncles. Worse, they would get in the car and hunt me down like prey. But Grant isn’t my family. He will honor the confidentiality contract we have. “Not for a couple of weeks, I’m afraid.”

“A couple of weeks?” He sounds more pissed than confused.

“Yeah. A friend needed my help.” It’s not that much of a lie.

“And what about our contract?”

I close my eyes and just breathe. “It’ll just have to wait.”

“It can’t wait, Remington. I’ve already explained—”

I don’t want to hear the terms and consequences again. I lose enough sleep as it is. “I’ll see what I can do and let you know.”

I can hear the resignation in his voice when he says, “Tomorrow, Remington. Figure it out bytomorrow.”

Hanging up, I lean back, resting my head against the leather seat, the car rocking as vehicles pass by. I thought this whole thing would be easier. I thought…

“101! Come here! You have to see this!”

Eden’s voice pulls me out of the dark place my mind had drifted, and while I’m quite sure I won’t find whatever she’s looking at fascinating, I get out of the car anyway.

Mainly because I need a distraction.

What if Grant does break our contract? What if he goes over my head? Maverick claims Grant keeps his business with his clients confidential. But if I broke my end of the bargain, who’s to say he won’t do the same?

“Remington! Hurry!”

Her excitement is nauseating, and I let her know it by rolling my eyes when I reach her. “You better have found a dead body or a pack of cigarettes. Otherwise, I’m getting back in the car.”

Totally ignoring me, she grabs my hand and pulls me to the back of the road sign. “Look.”

I squint from behind my sunglasses and notice dozens of names and locations written on the back.

“It’s all the travelers that have stopped here,” she says, like I need it broken down for me, “and where they were headed.”

California.

Arizona.

Las Vegas.

Even Oregon is listed.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

Her eyes dance with the excitement of an adventure, and in the heat of the summer sun, her hair glistens with a bluish tint. But it isn’t her eyes or the blended color of her hair that makes me stupid. It’s her smile—bright despite the trash bag in my trunk and the bandage on her hand.

She’s been through hell, and here she is, in Bum Fuck, Alabama, smiling at the back of a road sign like it’s the Grand Canyon.

That has to be why I say, “I have a marker in my glove box if you want to add your name to it.”

Unlike every other time I speak to her, Eden doesn’t ask any questions or say something ridiculous. She sprints off toward the car, with a speed she should have used to get away from Gerald the other night.

It takes her a moment before she holds up the marker and screams from inside the car. “You have one!”

I take it back. There’s that ridiculous shit I’ve come to expect from her.

---