Page 4 of This Much Is True
I open my eyes. “Yes?”
“Where are we headed?”
Oh. Right.
Good freaking question.
Adrenaline flows through my veins, and my palms start to sweat.Wherearewe headed?
The hotel is out. The bridal party will inevitably return to their rooms to gather their things. Not to mention, there’s no way I could get into the hotel discreetly and make it to my room. My parents’ house is a definite no. I’d be emotionallyandphysically burned at the stake. I could ask Troy to drive me to the airport, but that’s an hour and a half away,andno reservations have been made. My passport is at the hotel.And what do I do with all this damn tulle?
Breathe, Laina.
There must be somewhere I can go.
I sort through every person I still know in Brickfield—which isn’t many. I’ve lost contact with nearly all my old friends since I left six years ago. I can’t trust anyone to hide me until I figure this disaster out, anyway. I can’t even get a room in Peachwood Falls because someone would wind up seeing me, and I’d get trapped with no way out.
“How about …” Before I can ask him to find a back road to kill some time while I think, the answer pops in my head.
It is safe.Probably.
I may not exactly be welcome, but I won’t be forced to leave.I don’t think.
There will definitely be nothing to eat, the bedding will need to be washed, but I’ll be able to let myself inside.
My lips curl slowly into a smile. And, for the first time today, I don’t feel like the sun is setting on my soul.
“See that sign for Peachwood Falls?” I ask. “Head there.”
Chapter Two
Laina
The asphalt, busted with potholes but asphalt all the same, turns into gravel. Troy slows the SUV as its tires crunch across the rocks.
The field on the right side of the road has a path leading to a smaller field in the rear. It’s on top of a hill, surrounded by trees, and was too much of a pain in the ass to farm, according to the old farmer who used to tend to the land. My friends and I spent many weekend nights back there listening to music, building bonfires that almost got away from us, and drinking cheap wine and even cheaper beer like the adults we weren’t.
If only we knew how overrated adulthood really was…
On the left is a cornfield. A small brown home is tucked off the road. The family who lived there were so sweet. The father worked for the Department of Natural Resources and adopted a fawn that was left behind when its mother was shot during hunting season. The little thing would eat an apple out of your hand.
I wonder what happened to it.
“Just down this hill and around the curve,” I say, shivering.Why is it so chilly in here?“The driveway is hard to see but on the right.”
Troy nods. “Should I wait with you outside the house, or would you rather I wait down by the road?”
“With all due respect, I would rather you return to the church.”
A frown darkens his face. “I’m sure you understand I can’t do that, ma’am.”
I hold his gaze in the rearview mirror, anger from being told what I can and can’t do in my own damn life boiling inside me. But that’s not Troy’s fault. He’s doing what he’s paid to do.
And he’s being paid byme.
“Look, I appreciate your concern and understand the challenge of returning without me,” I say. “But I need a minute to myself, andI reallyneed no one to know where I am for a while.”
He watches me warily.
