Page 58 of The Prodigal

“That’s it, isn’t it?” I lean forward, sliding the plate out of my way. “You’ve never seen a river before, have you?”

She masks the pain quickly. I should have known then I was fucked.

“Friends share tragic pasts over breakfast. Are we friends, 101?”

“No.” I don’t want to know that bad. She can keep her little secret. She can see the river through the car window.

“Okay.” She shrugs with this confident little smirk that has my blood boiling.

“Tell me why you want to see this river or so help me, God…” I bang my fist on the table, and she doesn’t even flinch. “I won’t ask you again.”

I’ve been patient and even sweet this morning. She owes me a fucking thank-you for it.

“You see, I would—I really would. But if we’re not friends, then we’re strangers. And I was taught not to talk to strangers.”

I’m going to put something in her smartass mouth right here on the table. I won’t need to make up a story about scarring the minds of the young. I’m going to shove my cock so deep in her throat that her eyes water. She’ll have to beg me for a break in sign language.

But I don’t threaten her with any of that because her warped mind would think I like her or some crazy shit. Instead, I find a middle ground.

“Dr. Depressing is Duke, my father. Now, tell me what I want to know.”

“Why do you call him Dr. Depressing?”

Motherfucker.“Because it’s more respectful than calling him Dr. Dumbass. Now, tell me, or I’m leaving.”

“You won’t leave.” She flashes me a wink. “You like me too much.”

Unfortunately, she brought this on herself.

Standing, I pull cash from my wallet and toss it on the table. “There’s a man in the corner that looks dumb enough to offer you a ride. Flash him the blade I gave you and threaten him when you’re on the highway, and you should make it back to Georgia in one piece.”

Fuck her assumptions.

I’m not her puppet or her damn friend.

“You are so dramatic.”

She has the nerve to belt out a laugh and grab me by the waistband.

“Blowing me in a family establishment is a little beneath you, don’t you think?” I eye her fingers, and for a split second, I imagine her undoing the button, sliding the denim down to my ankles, and taking me into her mouth—begging for me to stay.

“Is that what you need, 101?” She stands and pushes me back, getting in my face. I can smell the sweetness of syrup on her breath mixed with a whole lot of fake bravery. “A blowjob to soften that attitude of yours?”

A growl erupts from my throat, and before I can stop myself, my hands are in her hair, yanking her head back and giving me access to her neck. “Don’t offer me something to ruin.”

Her fingers graze the skin of my abdomen. “You were right. I’ve never seen a river before.”

Chills break out along my skin as warmth spreads through my chest. I drop my hands from her hair and step back, but she holds me still as her gaze finds mine. “You can’t ruin what’s already been destroyed.”

Eden

“Did you know the Mississippi River is 694 miles long?” I ask Remington, ignoring the scowl he’s held all day. “It ends in Minnesota, if you were wondering.”

He rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t.”

Not that Remington is ever in a great mood, but he’s been especially growly since we left the restaurant. When we stopped for lunch, he made sure we went through the drive-thru. I’d like to think that’s because he didn’t want another breakfast boner incident, but most likely, he’s just being an asshole and making sure I’m just as uncomfortable as he is.

But I don’t need to stretch my legs to enjoy the scenery. I’d endure each and every leg cramp, just to watch the landscape change—a reminder that I am free. I’m not in Georgia. I’m not watching my back, waiting to see where Gerald turns up next. For the first time in my life, I feel freedom from the past that has held me back all these years.

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