Dangerously Big by Cleo Peitsche Page A

heartbreak.
    I get onto the highway, and as the road spools behind me, I admit that I had a narrow escape.  
    The truth is that I was falling for them. For Slade, yeah. That was obvious even to me. And for Romeo. How could I not?
    Even Hawthorne was growing on me. Under different circumstances, if we hadn’t gotten off to such an awful start…
    My phone rings, and I look over to see the vibrating photo of a cactus wearing a sombrero.  
    I’m reaching for it even before I know what I’m doing, but I stop just shy of answering.  
    Clean break. That’s the only way.
    A moment later, a text buzzes. The road is empty this time of day, and I glance at Hawthorne’s message. In the glove box and under the seat. You won’t accept the help you need, so there’s the help you want.
    One hand steady on the wheel, I lean over and pop open the glove box.
    Inside is a plastic bag, tightly wrapped around something rectangular. I strongly suspect that I know what it is, and when I tug it out, my guess is confirmed.
    Money.  
    Crisp hundred dollar bills, each compact packet belted with a label that says $10,000.
    I lean forward and probe under my seat, and my fingers touch more plastic.  
    At the first rest stop, I pull off. There’s a secluded area near the edge of the lot, and I park there, angled so that I can make a quick getaway if I need to.
    My hands shaking, I start to count the stacks.  
    It’s a lot of money.  
    Enough to make myself a new life somewhere.
    I stuff them into my oversized shoulder bag, then get out of the car. Kneeling on the ground, I sweep my arm under the seat to make sure I have it all. Then I check the other side of the car. Thirty stacks total. $300,000.
    That can’t be a coincidence.
    I honestly don’t know what to think.  
    Obviously I should thank Hawthorne, but I’m afraid to call. He might already know that I didn’t talk to Romeo, and I don’t want a lecture.
    So I send a text back. Thank you. I’ll repay every cent .
    He doesn’t reply, and to my shame, I’m relieved.

    ~ ~ ~

    That night I take a room in a mid-budget hotel that advertises itself as dog friendly. Nothing about cats, so I sneak Bandit in. He seems to understand how important it is to stay quiet.
    I’m still wearing the same clothes from the day before, so I shower and change into Romeo’s T-shirt. It doesn’t smell like him, or like much of anything, but wearing it soothes my soul.
    I lie on top of the covers and look through my email on my phone.
    No one has contacted me since Hawthorne’s text in the morning.
    Maybe I’m over-thinking things, but I find it weird that they haven’t tried to reach me. Even if Romeo is mad, which I can very well imagine, Slade should have said… something .
    I try to see it from their perspective. Who am I except a sexually open-minded woman who came into their lives, caused some trouble, and then disappeared?
    But still.
    Bandit jumps on the bed, and I’m amazed at how lightly he lands. He picks his way over to me, then settles in close.  
    “You don’t think I’m a horrible person, do you?” I ask.
    Of course he doesn’t. It’s his job to love me and to shed hair everywhere.
    It occurs to me that for all his general awfulness, Hawthorne really did help out when I needed it.
    All the more reason not to get him, or any of them, involved in my mess.
    So I’m glad no one has called. Right?
    I sit up and pull out the map I bought at a gas station. I’ve been going south, but I find myself tracing a route to the northeast.
    What if Hawthorne is right? What if it’s time to try something besides running?
    “What do you think, Bandit?” I ask.  
    He’s too busy purring to reply.
    In the end, it’s a decision only I can make, but I think it’s time to go home. Time to see my sister, even if only to say goodbye.

~ ~ ~

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