Angel

by L. A. Weatherly

Page 57

 

  “That’s pretty, isn’t it?” said the girl. “I bet she’d like it. ” She dimpled at him.

  Alex ran his thumb over the crystal, not sure whether it was a good idea. But the memory of Willow’s angel lingered: the way it had protected him, keeping him from harm. He’d never been so moved by anything in his life. Besides, he thought, they’d probably still be in hiding when their birthdays came up in a few weeks; it would be nice to have something to give to her.

  He unhooked the necklace from the rack. “Could I get this?”

  The girl placed the necklace in a small white box padded with cotton. “You are going to get so many brownie points for this. ” She smiled and put it in the large plastic bag with the rest of Willow’s clothes.

  “Here, I’ll — keep that separate,” said Alex. He stuck the box in his pocket and paid her. “Thanks. ”

  He headed back to the truck, feeling confused by his own actions. The moment in the restroom came hurtling back; he had come this close to kissing Willow. What the hell had he been doing, anyway? He knew better. He didn’t want to be as close to anyone as he’d somehow already managed to get to Willow, even just as friends. It wasn’t worth it; caring about people simply meant that he would lose them.

  Yet it felt as if there was no way back. He didn’t want to be without her, either.

  When Alex reached the truck, to his relief Willow was curled up asleep, hardly even visible from outside. He stood gazing at her for a second, thinking how peaceful she looked.

  “Hey,” he said softly, leaning in and touching her shoulder through the open window.

  She stirred drowsily awake, blinking up at him. “Oh, wow, I really did fall asleep. ” Getting out, she helped him load some of the lighter boxes into the truck.

  “Careful of your arm,” he said, glancing at the bandage.

  “It’s all right, just a little sore. I had a good doctor. ” Spotting the shopping bag with the clothes, Willow peeked inside. “Hey, that red sweater’s really pretty. OK, maybe you can be trusted with important clothes missions after all. ”

  “Phew. ” Alex had thought the color would look great with her hair, though he was too embarrassed to say so now. He nodded at the shopping bag as he stacked boxes. “I got you another baseball cap, too — you’d better put it on. ”

  She did so, tucking her blond hair out of sight, then put on her sunglasses. As they finished loading the supplies, she said, “Do you want me to drive for a while?”

  “That’s OK; go back to sleep if you want. ”

  Willow had her head to one side, taking in the truck’s lines. “No, I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t mind, really. ”

  Alex grinned suddenly. “Oh, I get it. You just want to drive a big 4x4 and see what it’s like, right?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. ” She shot him a laughing look. “You must be psychic or something. ”

  “Hey, you’re not the only one with talent. Go for it,” he said, tossing her the keys. She snapped them from the air, and a minute later was moving the driver’s seat forward, looking incredibly cute behind the wheel. Trying not to think about it, he settled beside her, stretching his legs out.

  Starting up the truck, Willow checked the rearview mirror and maneuvered them out of the parking lot. “Which way am I going?”

  “Take the interstate north for now,” he directed. “We’ll get off it soon and use back roads instead. ”

  She pulled out onto the main road. “This is great,” she said, downshifting as she slowed for a stoplight. “Nice and smooth. ”

  “No way. Is it really better than a Mustang?”

  “You know, it’s so sad how you just don’t get it. ” She glanced at him with a smile.

  They rode in companionable silence for a while. Willow turned on the radio, twirling the dial to a classical station. The floating, buoyant sound of a violin concerto wrapped around them. “Is this OK?” she asked.

  Alex had his eyes half closed, his hands linked over his stomach. “Yeah, I like classical. Dad used to play it sometimes. ”

  Between the music and the motion of the truck, he almost drifted off to sleep himself. Then Willow’s voice said, “Alex, can you wake up?” He opened his eyes groggily. She was peering into the rearview mirror, looking anxious. “Tell me I’m being paranoid,” she said. “That green Pontiac back there. Is it following us?”

  Immediately wide awake, he twisted in his seat. The Pontiac was cruising along behind them, about ten car lengths back. “What’s it been doing?” he asked.

  “Keeping exactly that same length behind us, no matter what I do. I’ve tried speeding up a little and slowing down, and it always stays right there. ” She looked in the mirror again. “I mean, I know it’s the interstate, so it’s hard to tell. I’ve just . . . sort of got a feeling about it. ”

  Willow’s “feelings” were more than good enough for him. “OK. Move to the outside lane,” said Alex. She did. A moment later the Pontiac followed, gliding across the lanes.

  “Just keep going at this speed,” he said, keeping an eye on the Pontiac. “Then when you get to the next turnoff, throw the wheel hard and get onto it. ”

  Willow nodded, her hands tensing on the wheel. An exit came up a few miles later; waiting until the last possible second, she spun the wheel sharply to the right and swerved across three lanes of traffic. Horns blared; the 4x4 lurched as she bounced up the ramp, spinning the wheel to right them. Behind them, the Pontiac quickly changed lanes but didn’t make the exit in time. Alex watched as they sailed fruitlessly past.

  “Now, as soon as you can, get back onto the interstate again, still heading north. ”

  Willow’s eyes flew to his. “Back? But —”

  “It’s all right. Trust me. ”

  With a worried look, she took the next turnoff, returning them to the interstate. About ten minutes later, Alex spotted the green Pontiac speeding down the interstate in the opposite direction, having obviously taken the next exit off to follow them. He let out a breath. “Good. They fell for it. ”

  Willow let out a breath. “Do you think we lost them?”

  “For now, anyway,” he said. He glanced at her. “Hey, pretty good driving. ”

  “Pretty good trick,” she said, trying to smile. “Did you have high-speed chase lessons in school?”

  Alex hesitated. “Cully told me about it,” he said finally. “He used to bootleg, back in Alabama. You should have heard the stories he used to tell. ” He fell silent, pain knifing through him.

  Willow was watching his face. “I’m sorry,” she said. “He was a good friend, wasn’t he?”

  Memories flashed past — Cully smoking his cigar with a grin, shaking his head in the rearview mirror at him and Jake. And then later, Cully’s arm firm around his shoulders, steadying him, saying, You did good. You did good. Alex cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’ve known him for most of my life. He was just . . . a really good guy. ” He tried for an upbeat tone. “Wow, look, another depressing topic. ”

  “I don’t mind depressing topics,” said Willow softly.