Page 92 of From West, With Regret

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.” She lowers her arm from the side of the door and rests it in her lap, turning her beautiful face in my direction. “I couldn’t make sense of it like all the rest, so I didn’t say anything.”

“What was it?”

I turn down another small, winding road. One the GPS tells me to stay on for the next eighteen miles. Glancing in the rearview mirror again, I see the car is quick to follow. It’s growing closer, the headlights clearer than they were before. I try to get a read on what type of car it is but can’t make the emblem out with the fog obstructing its view. By my guess, it’s an expensive car, especially if it can keep up with mine.

The dense fog hovering above the ground has grown heavier now that we’re no longer in town. The car gains on me. Closeenough that if I were to slam on my brakes, he’d crash right into us. My adrenaline kicks in. Spotting a split in the road several hundred feet ahead, I lay on the gas and stiffen my arms, readying myself.

“Oh…” London mumbles, twisting her fingers in her lap. “It was a sign?—"

I cut the steering wheel, and the tires screech against the asphalt.

“West!” London yells. “What are you doing?”

My hands shake as I straighten the steering wheel and glare into the rearview mirror. “Someone’s following us.”

“What?” She gasps, twisting in her seat to look behind us. She grips onto her seat before whipping back around. “Who is it?”

“I don’t know,” I say, lowering my voice. My adrenaline is racing, but I try to remain calm for London’s sake. I don’t know who is following us or why. We’re far from home, or anywhere really. There’s nothing but back roads and trees for what seems like miles.

My foot leans into the gas a little harder, and I watch the dial rise faster and faster, going up to ninety. Then one hundred.

The GPS hasn’t caught up with my sudden shift in direction. We must be getting a weak signal where we are.

“How long have they been following us?” London squeaks out, constantly glancing between the road, then to the car behind us.

“Since we pulled out of the parking lot.”

“Are you kidding? And you didn’t say anything?” she asks, panic stricken.

The air in the car has grown tenser. Clenching her hands into fists, her chest rises faster with every breath.

She’s having a panicattack.

“I couldn’t be sure,” I tell her, grinding my jaw. “But now I am.” Although I’m driving faster than I’ve ever driven before, not to mention on a road I’ve never fucking driven down in my life, I reach out and squeeze London’s thigh. “I’ll get us home safely. I promise.”

“What if he follows us the whole way? Where are we?”

“I don’t know.” I swallow, uncertainty settling in my veins. “Don’t worry. I’ll lose him.”

Seeing another split in the road, I take it. Leaves and dirt kick behind my tires, and I’m fishtailing.

London tries to stifle her screams, but she fails, clutching onto the side of the door. She slaps her hand on the dash to steady herself when we reach the edge of a cliff. I slam on the brakes, quickly whipping the steering wheel back in the opposite direction. My foot grinds on the gas, and I pull back onto the small road.

I take another turn when I see another road. The farther we travel down the back roads, deeper into the woods, the more dangerous the turns become. It feels like we’re driving on the side of a fucking mountain.

If I take a turn too soon or too fast, we’ll roll hundreds of feet into the valley below. Just like we did almost a few minutes ago.

It feels like forever that the car follows us, and it seems like every turn I make, he has the chance to catch back up. Between the fog and the overcast skies, night begins to settle in. The sun sets behind the tree line, and it’s harder to see the roads or which direction I’m going.

“West?” London asks, still panicked. “He’s still behind us.”

I grind my jaw, taking another turn. “I know.”

Finally, another chance to lose him reveals itself around a sharp curve. Once we round the corner, I see an opportunity to turn down a private road. I have no clue if it’ll connect to another route, but I take it anyway.

It’s a narrow dirt road, uneven and bumpy. I hit a million potholes, and I’m bottoming out all over the place. My sweaty palm grips the steering wheel as I drive us farther into the cover of trees.

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