Page 107 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
My boots hit the pavement hard, the sound of my feet louder than the distant engine.
The last thing I want is to be stranded on this back road in the middle of nowhere.
I push harder.
The bus isn’t slowing.
“Hart! Stop!”
Can he even hear me? Or is he purposely ignoring me? Watching me in the side window and chuckling because he thinks he’s so funny?
I sprint faster, trying not to think about the tightness in my lungs or the burning in my calves.
That asshole keeps driving.
My eyes lock on the rear lights.
Just a little closer, but my legs are already starting to protest, and that tightness in my lungs isn’t going away.
“Don’t—DON’T YOU DARE—” I gasp, forcing myself forward.
The truck speeds up again.
“Come on,come on!”
My legs are giving way. The pavement is stretching longer and harder to conquer with each step. The distance between us feels like it’s growing again, but I won’t stop.
Not now.
My feet burn. My breath is ragged.
I take another step. Then another. And another.
Then—
My body screams, and the world tilts sideways. My legs buckle beneath me, and for a second, I almost collapse, staggering to a stop. I press my hands on my knees, head down, and gasping.
The truck keeps going, its engine humming like a cruel whisper in my ear.
My heart pounds, and I know I’ve overdone it. It takes a lot for a country girl to overdo it. My vision blurs when I glance back. I have no idea the distance I’ve run.
I bend forward, hands gripping my knees. The ache in my muscles is deep and sweat trickles down my back. My chest heaves for air as I watch the bus taillights grow smaller and smaller.
He’s really gonna leave me out here.
Then the vehicle comes to a complete stop.
I straighten, still trying to catch my breath. Lord, the pain in my chest is excruciating, like my lungs are grinding against each other.
I wipe the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand.
He’s backing up.
Slowly.
My legs are still shaky, still screaming in protest. I refuse to show it, but my whole body is exhausted.
The bus comes to a stop beside me, and he’s leaning out the window with a smug smirk.
