Page 9 of Something like Redemption

“Oh,” I reply, sipping my coffee quietly and lowering my eyes.“We’re going to have to ditch the truck. The cops will be all over it by now.”

Quinn nods, dropping the pen onto the table and running both hands through his disheveled hair.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that,” he says.

Knowing how much he loves his truck, I bite my lip remorsefully. “Sorry.”

He sighs, shaking his head.

“Any ideas?” I ask, jutting my chin out toward the map.

He rubs his weary eyes, sliding Tabitha’s phone over to me.“I got that a couple of hours ago.”

Reaching for the phone, I glance at the screen and realize it’s just afterthree o’clock.

Keep moving.

Got someone to help.

Will text when I have more info. DO NOT go to the police. T x

“Someone to help?” I ask, looking at Quinn, confused.

But he only shrugs. “No clue. But I agree with the keep moving part.”

“To where?” I question, leaning in closer to see the routes he’s marked.

I trace my finger along the line he’s drawn, following the state lines that lead into Mexico.

“It’s the long, most indirect way, as we’ll need to take the back roads. But it’ll certainly keep the cops off our tails instead of taking a direct route.”

My eyes flick north, however, zeroing in on one particular place.

“Is there anywhere specific you wanted to go?” he asks as my finger circles around Alberta, Canada.

“Anywhere that serves better coffee than this,” I tease, making a pained face as I take another sip, still tracing over the location where my mom lives. “Do you want to know why I came to South Boston?”

Quinn waits for me to continue.

“To find my mom,” I whisper, my eyes meeting his. “After I shot my dad, I needed to leave LA. I wanted to get as far away from my past as possible, and it was pure luck I ended up where I did.”

Quinn knows I mean it was pure luck that I foundhim. Out of all the places I could have gone to, I ended up discovering this amazing man before me in South Boston. But I’ve had to pay a price for my fortune and so have others.

“So she’s in Canada?” he questions, though it’s pretty apparent as my finger has circled the same spot for the past few minutes.

“Yes,” I reply, nodding. “I found out within the first few days of being in South Boston.”

“So why did you stay?”

“Because of the people I met. Because of the friends I made. Because of…you,” I reply softly, hoping that doesn’t sound weird.

“Me?” he asks, taken aback by my confession.

“Yes.”

Thankfully, he doesn’t ask me to explain because I’m not sure I could clarify what I mean without freaking him out.

“Well, I’m glad you did.”

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