Page 54 of The Wrong Drive-
“You can just ride with me?” I offer. “Or I can just say goodbye from here.”
He leans in and kisses me, lingering in it for a few beats before pulling away. “Nah, I’ll meet you down there, angel.”
“Okay,” I say, trying to read his cryptic expression. “Also?—”
“See you in a minute,” he cuts me off with a kiss on my nose. He steps away and shuts the door, and then waits for me to back up.
“Fine then.” Huffing, I put the truck in reverse, and back down the driveway, navigating the cleared road. The tires never slip in four-wheel drive, and I suddenly wish he wouldn’t have made it so easy to get out. Maybe then I could’ve stayed longer. However, I know he did it this morning, when he was initially planning on me to take Gunner and leave his body to rot.
And that thought leaves me nervous.
Surely, he won’t do anything while I’m gone, right?I put the truck in park as I clear the gate, waiting for him. He said he’d meet me down here. I ignore the anxiety thrumming through my body as the minutes tick by. My hands begin to sweat, and as soon as I’m about to drive back up the driveway, I spot him, emerging through the trees.
He has a solemn expression, and before I realize exactly what he’s carrying, it’s too late. He drops my bags at the front of my truck just as he slams the gate shut…
And locks it.
I fling open the truck door and race to the massive iron gate. “What are you doing, Turner?”
“You need to go,” he says flatly. “For good.”
“What?” My voice breaks, a sob choking it off. “What do you mean? I thought you said?—”
“Em,” he cuts me off, his voice sharp. “Youhaveto go. You and I both know what happened here. You can call the cops, you can tell them the whole truth, and I won’t hate you if they come get me. You can keep it to yourself and live with the burden of the truth, but it won’t change my decision. I’m not well enough yet to go on the journey with you.”
Tears stream down my cheeks. “You said you’d be good. I can… I can just…” I can’t even get the words out as I reach through the steel pickets, desperate to reach him. “Turner,pleasedon’t make me do this alone.”
“You’re not alone. I’m giving you permission to do what’s best for you, Em. Go take care of yourself.”
“No,” I break into a shout, fury mixing with the heartbreak. “No, I don’t want to leave you alone. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
He smiles. “I’ve made it almost forty-one years, and I’m still here. I justcan’thandle what comes next. We can’t live in solitude while I try to figure out how to exist peacefully. There’s too much going on. Youneedpeople who can be there for you, and that’s not me.”
“You selfish fucking coward,” I scream at him, tears rolling down my cheeks as he stands just outside of my grip.
He shakes his head. “No, I’m not a coward. That’s how I lived my life before you showed up here. Being a coward would be making you stay and try to navigate the shitstormand me.You have to trust me, Em. This is what’s best.”
“No,” I plead, gripping the cold steel and shaking it. “Just open the gate. Please just open the gate, Turner.”
“I love you, Emersyn,” he says, his voice painfully soft. “I have to do what I have to do, and you have to do the same for yourself.” Turner takes a step forward, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. “Don’t come back here.”
“You’ll get help though?” I choke out through the tears as his confession shakes me to my very core, followed by panic. “Right?”
“Yeah.” He brings my hand to his lips, kissing my cold skin softly. “I promise. Good luck, Em. Do what’s best for you. I’ll never be mad either way.” With that he drops my hand and steps away again. “Drive safe.” He backs up, drifting closer to the tree line.
“I love you,” I call out to him.
He closes his eyes and turns around, giving me his back instead of returning it. My heart rips in two as he disappears intothe woods. I know I could come back. I know I could climb the fucking fence and sprint after him…
But what good would it do?
All I can hope is that somehow, Turner figures himself out. I force myself to take a deep breath, and scoop up my bags, throwing them in the backseat of my truck. I slam the door shut, and climb into the driver’s seat, staring at the locked gate.
How will he find me if he wants to? Or does he not want to?
I purse my lips, sniffling as I flip open my console. I grab one of the blank Christmas cards from the box of cards I never sent. I pull it out, and scribble a note for him, leaving my phone number at the bottom. It’s probably a waste, since I can assume he doesn’t check his mail. However, I still shove it in the envelope, write his name on the front, and shove it in the black, rusted box just outside the gate.
I then climb back inside my truck, and I leave him.
