Page 4 of Wrecked for Love
A weak chuckle slipped from me, and damn, even that hurt.
I pocketed the broken phone, feeling the jagged edges through my jeans. I’d deal with it later. Somewhere no one would find it.
“Although I should mention—your car’s a write-off,” he added. “Still out there.”
Shit.
“Where?” My memory was a blank, but my mind shot straight to the doctor. The last thing I needed was for him to get caught up in this.
“Far enough from here.”
Slinging the bag over my shoulder, I accepted the coat he handed me. “Thank you, Doctor,” I said, heading for the door.
Sympathy flowers lined the hallway as I passed by. It was all still fresh for him, no doubt. I kept moving, resisting the urge to glance back until I reached the front porch. The sky was a blanket of darkness, perfect for slipping away unnoticed.
“Wait!” Rick’s voice stopped me, and I glanced back just as Bobo took a cautious step, his nails clicking against the marble floor. Despite the movement, the husky stayed close to Rick, his watchful eyes fixed on me.
I turned fully and caught the somber expression on the doctor’s face.
“You won’t get far on foot. Take this.” He held out car keys, along with a registration and a driver’s license.
Clare Ashbourne.
Maybe he helped me because I reminded him of her. The photo on the license didn’t quite match, but with a little makeup and darker hair, I could pass. We were close enough in age—she’d only been one year older.
“Rick…I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” He motioned toward the garage. “She was here to reconcile with her boyfriend. She would’ve made it if she’d been driving that night. This car,” he nodded at the gray Ford sedan, “would’ve saved her. But instead, she was in his car. He drove, high and drunk, after they argued.” He scoffed, bitterness creeping into his voice. “Crashed into a tree. She died on impact.”
“I’m so sorry.” The words ground against the unfairness of it all, but now I was about to exploit that tragedy.
“Take the car, Claire. It’ll get you far enough, and whether you come back as Claire Magnussen or someone else, that’s your choice. But for now, take my Clare’s.”
I hugged him, his grief lingering like an unspoken presence between us. “Thank you.”
Bobo paced anxiously as if he couldn’t decide whether to follow me to the car. I imagined the car was too familiar. His old master had probably driven him to the beach, on hikes, somewhere they loved to be.
“Bobo, stay,” Rick commanded. In contrast, his expression was hopeful, like he was offering the dog to me too.
But I couldn’t. I wasn’t even sure I could handle myself.
“Look after him,” I murmured—both to the man and the dog—knowing they’d take care of each other. Without waiting for a reply, I turned away before I lost my resolve.
Under the cover of the night, Clare Ashbourne came to life.
Three strokes of luck in a row—maybe it was fate. Hell, I’d need a lot more to survive. But for now, I had to adjust, leaving behind my old name, my family name. My parents hadn’t givenme much worth holding on to. Still, in my mind, I was Claire. Claire with an ‘i.’
1
CLAIRE
Driggs, Idaho – present day
I’d lost count of how many towns I’d passed through since New York, each one smaller than the last. Driggs was the kind of town that made you feel like you could disappear, swallowed by the wide-open spaces and towering peaks in the distance. The sky here stretched forever, and the air was tinged with the fresh smell of pine and woodsmoke.
The diner sat on the edge of town, a place where tourists stopped for burgers and fries before heading to Yellowstone or the Tetons. It was nothing fancy, just a small, homey spot with a steady stream of people. Locals came too, chatting about the weather, ranch work, or the latest gossip.
I worked here most days, not because I needed to—I had more money than I’d ever let on—but because it helped me blend in. I couldn’t afford to look like I was on the run. And here, in this small town, no one questioned the quiet waitress with a smile on her face and a past she didn’t talk about. It was easy to slip into the role.
