Page 16 of Runaway
With nothing to talk about, we said little. While I might miss having people around—mostly JJ and Lizbeth, ‘cause they were special—that didn't mean I wanted small talk. Stella didn't seem inclined either, and the companionable silence took us all the way into Pineville.
Once we rumbled down Main Street, which was the largest of three roads in Pineville, I pointed out the very few landmarks. “Grocery store on the left,” I said. “The Frolicking Moose on the right. Great coffee. But they're finalizing renovations after a fire last winter and will hopefully open soon. The Diner is our main restaurant and the bar is just down the road. The pizza place is total crap.”
A sign that saidUnder Constructionhung across the porch of the Frolicking Moose as we passed. Inside, a few bodies bustled around.
While we walked through the grocery store parking lot, Stella spun around, looking all around her. The reservoir that drew people into Pineville in the summer, and ice fishermen in the winter, hadn't iced over yet. Dark waters and mountains decorated the background behind us. Seemingly satisfied, she faced forward again with a sheepish little smile.
“Bank?” she asked.
I tilted my head across the road as we stepped inside the grocery store. “Just over there. Want to share a cart?”
“Sure.”
The wheels on the cart issued high-pitched squeals as I pushed it around the produce, tossing bananas, apples, and salad into bags and slinging them into the cart. She followed behind, carefully inspected each piece of fruit—grapes, avocado, and organic blueberries—before setting them inside.
When I reached for the instant hot chocolate box down another aisle, she put out a hand to stop me. “That is utter trash,” she said. “It's not that hard to make. I'll get the ingredients.”
“You'll own my heart.”
She snorted.
While she gathered powdered milk, cocoa powder, creamer, and sugar, I tossed some protein bars and BBQ potato chips inside.
“See?” She gestured to the ingredients as if I was born in a barn. “It's not that hard. But those chips will probably give you a heart attack.”
Before I could quip something snarky, her phone buzzed. I steered us toward the toilet paper—that was one disaster I'd never let happen again—while she poked at her phone. When she didn't catch up with me, I glanced back to find her standing in the middle of the aisle, frowning.
“Stella?” I sang.
She startled, looked up, and her face cleared. She started to walk again as she tucked her phone into her back pocket with a confused expression.
“Everything all right?” I asked.
“Fine.”
But the lines remained in her forehead as I grabbed eggs and milk and too much bacon. Her phone must have buzzed again, because she pulled it back out of her pocket, frowned, and pushed her lips to one side as if putting together a mental puzzle.
“Do you need to make a call? You might have to go outside. The reception in here kind of sucks.”
As if in a daze, she looked at the cart. “No,” she said slowly. “I just have two more things to get. I—”
Her phone vibrated in her hand. The dark expression on her face deepened. For some reason, it reminded me ofHearts on Fireand how I hadn't logged in today.
“Stell?”
“Tampons,” she murmured as she tapped away on her screen. “I just need tampons and girly pain relievers. Then I'm done.”
“Regular or super?”
That totally should have been a weird question, but wasn't. Either her distraction was too great to be embarrassed, or Megan had trained me way too well.
“Regular.”
“Long-lasting girly pain relievers or regular?”
“Long-lasting.”
She bit her bottom lip as the phone buzzedagain. Something definitely was up. “Go make your call,” I said. “I'll grab your lady things and meet you outside.”
