RUSH (A Stone Kings Motorcycle Club Romance)
Page 18
I stood in line with the children, waiting patiently as they hemmed and hawed over their selections as though the decision meant life or death. “Are you sure we can have anything we want?” asked Matthew, wide-eyed. Usually, on the rare occasions that the children were allowed an ice cream treat, they were limited to a small cone with no extras. But today I wanted to give them something special. Something I hoped they would remember one day, a small kindness by the woman who had deserted them.
“Yes, anything,” I smiled. “As long as it’s meant for only one person.”
Finally, after much deliberating, all of the children had ordered and received their treats. I told Sarah to get the children seated while I paid, and then I went over to the booth they had chosen, close to a window with cheerful sun streaming through.
I drew a deep breath. “All right, children,” I said, trying to sound as normal as possible. “You stay right here and finish your treats. I have errands to run.”
“Aren’t you going to get ice cream, too?” inquired Aaron as he attacked a hot fudge sundae that was much too large for him.
“No, I’m not hungry,” I replied. At least that much was true. My stomach was doing flips and flops as though it was trying to leap out of my throat. “Sarah, you keep an eye on the children for me, you hear?”
“M-hm,” Sarah said dreamily as she took a spoonful of her malt, then realized she had been impertinent. “Yes, ma’am,” she corrected herself.
I smiled, and suddenly I felt as though I might cry. I swallowed hard and blinked my eyes. “You children be good,” I said, willing my voice not to crack. I touched little Aaron’s blond head one last time, and left the ice cream parlor.
Outside, I turned right and walked hurriedly the few blocks toward my destination. Once I arrived in the noisy terminal, I strode as quickly and unobtrusively as I could toward the bathroom. Mercifully, no one was in it, and I went to the large handicapped stall, shut the door, and quickly stripped off my clothing. Opening the basket, I took out the worn, faded jeans I had purchased at the Goodwill on our last trip into town, and an ill-fitting yellow T-shirt that said,“One in a Minion,” with a picture of a strange, bespectacled cartoon figure that I recognized and seemed popular. I hoped it would somehow make me look less conspicuous. Finally, I kicked off my hot, heavy shoes and exchanged them for a pair of cheap flip flops that I had chosen because they would take the least amount of room in the basket. It made me feel uncomfortable having my bare feet so exposed, but I told myself that I didn’t have time to fret about such things now.
When I had finished, I exited the stall and stuffed the clothes I had been wearing at the bottom of a large wastebasket by the door, covering them over with paper towels. I turned to the door to go, but decided to give myself a quick check in the mirror, and was horrified to discover that I was still wearing the tight bun that marked me unmistakably as from the WFZ Ranch. I began to sweat as I quickly removed pin after pin from my hair as fast as I could, until finally, they were all out and my long, uncut hair hung loose to my waist. I frowned at my reflection. I knew young “worldly” women didn’t wear their hair like this. An idea came to me then, and I went back to the wastebasket and rooted around until I found one of my shoes. I quickly undid the lace and tied my hair back with it in an approximation of a loose ponytail that hid its length.
Finally, when I was satisfied that my appearance wouldn’t cause suspicion, I exited the restroom and went to the ticket counter. I paid cash for a one-way ticket on the next bus that was leaving. It was going to a town that wasn’t in the direction of my final destination, but I planned to change buses a couple of times to throw anyone who might come looking for me off the scent.
A few minutes later, a voice over the loudspeaker announced that they were beginning to board. I handed the driver my ticket, took a window seat toward the back, and tried to calm my hammering nerves. I knew no one would be looking for me yet, but I knew my heart wouldn’t stop pounding until the bus had pulled away from the station and had passed the city limits. I thought back to the children, knew that by now they would have finished their ice cream and were probably horsing around and riding their uncharacteristic sugar high. By the time they began to get antsy, I would be gone, but they were obedient children and would not move from the parlor until the time to meet their father had come and gone. I assuaged my guilty conscience at leaving them by telling myself that Sarah was old enough to get the children back to the minivan and meet their father.
I stared out the window, enjoying the peaceful rumble of the bus’s tires under me. I had barely been on the bus half an hour, but already the landscape was changing. As I rode, I made plans for the next few hours. I made a mental note to buy a pair of scissors in the next town and cut my hair to a more reasonable length. I would also need to buy some food so that I wouldn’t go hungry during the long hours on the bus.
Two o’clock arrived. Soon, I knew, the children would go find their father, and tell him that I hadn’t come back from my errands. I got off in the next town and purchased another ticket for another bus, which luckily was leaving in a few hours. I resolved to be on it by the time Isaiah came looking for me. I got directions to a convenience store, where I purchased scissors, some food, and a map. As I waited for the bus to come, I borrowed a pen from the lady at the ticket counter and drew a circle around my destination.
Lupine, Colorado. The last known whereabouts of the only person in the world who could help me.
* * *
CRASH will be released on August 22, 2016.
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Books by Daphne Loveling
Motorcycle Club Romance
Los Perdidos MC
Fugitives MC
Throttle: A Stepbrother Romance
Paranormal Romance
Untamed Moon
About the Author
Daphne Loveling is a small-town girl who moved to the big city as a young adult in search of adventure. She lives in the American Midwest with her wonderful husband and the two cats that own them.
Someday she hopes to retire to a sandy beach somewhere, and continue writing novels with sand between her toes.
Acknowledgments
Every aspiring writer needs people in her corner: to cheer us on, listen to us endlessly talk about characters that we grow to love while we’re writing them, and remind us when we’re feeling lost that the characters will help us figure out what is supposed to happen to them.
Thank you first of all, to my husband, for being my number one fan and for pushing me to make the jump to full-time writing.
Thank you for my Fourth Friday tribe, who have been my cheerleaders and who have been nothing but supportive of my crazy leap of faith.
And thank you, dear reader, for being the reason I write in the first place.
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