Page 190 of Lone Star

Sheleft. That was his first, gut-clenching thought as he headed that way. She’d had enough; tonight was the last straw, and so she’d decided on the only logical course of action: escape.

It wasn’t a rational thought on his part; a fuzzy, fizzing static of panic in his chest and his head. He wasn’t thinking about the fact that he’d just seen her suitcase in her dorm, didn’t reason that she wouldn’t leave town without her curling iron, and her lip gloss, both of which he’d just seen on the bathroom counter.

He hit the parking lot and stood a moment, gaze sweeping side to side across the moon-silvered night, the dry cold painful in his lungs. It was with dread that he turned to search for her car – but his pulse skipped when he saw that the GTO was still there. And, visible as a silhouette in the glow of the porch lights, Axelle was sitting behind the wheel, head tipped back against the seat.

Of course. Of course she’d gone to the place she felt safest, the most in-control and like herself.

He walked over slowly, getting his breathing under control, and rapped gently on the passenger window. He hated that she startled – a fast jerk of her head, her eyes wild – but he hadn’t wanted to try the handle and frighten her even more.

He smiled through the glass, and she relaxed and waved him in.

The GTO was cherry; she kept it in perfect condition, waxed, and buffed, and tuned up. The seats, butter-soft deep tan leather, smelled of the conditioning wipes she used on them, and, faintly still, the Lysol they’d used to clean Jinx’s blood out of the back with. But even so, it was an old car, and Albie loved the way it settled like one as he climbed in and shut the door; the way it rocked and swayed in that old way before safety and efficiency had been so high on the Detroit automakers’ priority lists.

He sat with his hands on his thighs and stared through the windshield, silent a moment. Amarillo was a dustier city than Knoxville, and the porch lights picked out the glitter of it in the faint dusting across the glass and on the hood, gleaming and still-clean beneath a powder coat of it. Axelle, he could see from the corner of his eye, held both hands loosely at six o’clock on the wheel, fingers hooked through, more relaxed than he’d seen them throughout most of this trip.

He realized, as the seconds ticked by, that he had no idea what to say. How to begin this conversation – nor what conversation she would even want to have right now. He could only guess what she was thinking, and he was thinking, far too loudly, about what Fox had told him a few minutes ago: about the ways she wasn’t like the rest of them. And he’d never had to reconcile his life, his family, hiskindwith someone so fundamentally different. It scared him, more than a little.

Finally, she gathered a deep breath, one that sent dread pulsing through him. Whatever she said, he wouldn’t blame her; he would be gracious. He’d earned any number of reprimands; he deserved her fear in return – in spades.

She said, “I get it.”

Albie heard the words, but they didn’t land right. He turned to look at her full-on then. “What?” Was that the only thing he was capable of saying tonight?

She stared back at him steadily, and she still looked a little spooked – who wouldn’t after what had happened? – but he was surprised to see a very obvious resolve in the elegant curves of her mouth and jaw; in the lift of her chin and the set of her shoulders. “I get it,” she repeated. “I think maybe I always have, but–” She bit her lip, pain touching her features. “What happened to my dad, you know? It was – it was really hard to get over that.”

He didn’t dare speak, barely even breathed. He didn’t know what she was working toward, but he had a suspicion he hoped was correct. Oh, hesohoped.

She took another breath, visibly gathering herself, digging deep. “It’s not about breaking the law – I break about a dozen traffic laws on the regular. I used to think it was about hurting people, but people hurt other people all the time, in a hundred little ways, and people hurt themselves. That’s what my dad did: he hurt himself, and that hurt me. And…” She met his gaze with a sudden fierceness. “Guys like Luis, his cartel, they’ve always existed. They’re always going to exist. And you can either play by all the rules, and do all the right things, and hope nobody ever kidnaps you and tries to sell you, or strong-arms your garage into helping them, or shoots you dead, or ties you out and cuts your throat.” She swallowed, fingertips ghosting up to her own throat as she imagined the horror of it. “You can hope it never happens. Or you canmake sureit doesn’t.”

I couldn’t keep it from happening to you,he thought, aching.I couldn’t keep you safe, and I’ll never forgive myself for that.

“The club does some bad shit, but it does some really good shit, too.” The corners of her mouth fluttered, a hopeful little smile. “So I get why the club does what it does. Why they sell drugs, and guns, and why they fight, and kill. Those girls Luis took – civilian life didn’t keep them safe. If I have my choice, I choose to take my chances with the club.” She wet her lips, uncertain now. “With you. If – if you still want–”

He reached across the center console and she met him halfway with a glad little exhalation full of relief. It was awkward, leaning together, but Albie didn’t care. He wrapped her up and felt her fingers hook tight in the back of his cut; felt the shaky dampness of her breath as she pressed her face into his throat.

He cupped the back of her head, fingers sliding against the silkiness of her hair. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

He was afraid he might be crushing her, but he couldn’t bear to let go, not yet. “I didn’t keep you safe, I didn’t–”

She laughed, unsteady, but bell-bright and wonderful. “Your expectations are really too high, you know that?”

He felt his face heat, but said, stubbornly, “You trusted me, and I let you down.”

She drew back – he let her go with reluctance – and took his face in both her hands. She smiled, and blinked against the glimmer of fresh tears. “You are a very sweet man, with a very big heart. But it’s not your job to save me.”

He took a ragged breath; his chesthurt. “If anything had happened to you–”

“But it didn’t. I mean.” She winced. “I’m not proud. I was really freaked out. If Michelle hadn’t kept her head…and I’m definitely gonna have nightmares…but I chose to come. I chose to help. If you’re in this, then you’re in it, and things get scary sometimes. It’s not down to you to save me every time.” Another smile, tremulous, but true. Brave.

If she’d sat here and told him that she couldn’t handle this; that the club was too dangerous and frightening, and that she wanted a quiet, normal civilian life, she wouldn’t have been the first woman to do. It would have only been the natural response.

But Fox waswrong. Shewasn’tdifferent from them.

Albie touched her face in turn and reeled her to in to kiss her. A slow, sweet, salty-tasting kiss, and he didn’t care whose tears they were, only that they could have this now – and in the future.

~*~

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