Rope the Moon (Runaway Ranch, #2)(4)

But I didn’t.

Maybe I shouldn’t have run, but I saw my chance, and I took it.

But was it worth it? I gave up my beautiful bakery to be free.

With a sigh, I wipe the fatigue and the soot from my face.

Maybe it’s another bad decision in a river of bad decisions.

If only it was that easy to leave the past in my rearview mirror. I catch my reflection, wincing at my busted lip, the faded bruise around my left eye. My long dark hair’s sweaty and mussed. I’m still wearing my apron from this morning.

Whether the fire bought me any time is hard to know. It’ll take the police a few days to shift through the wreckage of the bakery and for Aiden to come up with a story. And when that’s done…

Is that when Aiden will track me down?

My hand tightens on the wheel as the tires go into a skid. On a shaky breath, I steady the Jeep. The rain’s coming down in sheets, and I can barely see the road in front of me.

It’s too easy, I’m too free. It won’t last. Nothing good ever does.

Aiden warned me about what would happen if I ever left.

I want you to remember this moment the next time you think about leaving me. I will fuck with you, Dakota. I will fuck with your family, and I will fuck with your life. And when I find you, I will carve out your fucking heart and feed it to the wolves.

An icy shiver rolls through me. I shake my head, clearing the memory.

My eyes flick to the rearview mirror. My pulse quickens, like Aiden’s behind me on his motorcycle, already anticipating my next move.

Bad idea, Koty, this is a bad idea. Your bakery didn’t just catch on fire, so did your life.

And all for what?

To escape?

To go home?

I can’t ignore the irony. After spending so many years aching to break free from my small hometown, taking off in a blaze of glory for culinary school, I’m running straight back to Resurrection as my main life hack.

Just yesterday I had my bakery. Milk & Honey.

My blood, sweat, tears. And now…

Gone. All gone.

My mind replays the fire like a fever dream. Our fight. The hard backhand to my face. Aiden screaming. How terribly fast that pan went up in flames. I stared at it, holding my cheek. Mesmerized, hypnotized. The flames licking up the back of the stove to snap at the ceiling. My fingers digging into my purse for my keys like my legs already knew where I was going. Aiden’s hand clawing at me, to drag me back, when in the end he stayed to fight the fire. For his money. For his investment.

Because Aiden King doesn’t lose things.

And he won’t lose me.

That bone-deep knowledge terrifies me.

The rage in Aiden’s eyes as I ran for my Jeep, hopped in and never looked back.

Because he knew I had my chance.

I gasp when I see the smoke unfurling eerily slow in my backseat. The snap of flame. A monster cloud of mayhem.

No.

I shake my fried brain out if its fatigued daze.

It’s not real. I’m imagining it.

My stomach cramps, and I exhale a long breath.

I glance down at my left arm in its dull yellow cast.

How does that feel, Aiden? Someone taking away what you love.

Eyes narrowed, I steer through the sleet. The snow-covered road stretches out in front of me like a never-ending landing strip.

Up ahead, a neon vacancy sign illuminates a motel strip. A sliver of hope fills me. My weary body screams for a bed, for food, even if it is a bag of chips, a coin of Rolos from a vending machine. I allowed myself a short pit stop back in Minnesota, where I napped for twenty minutes at a gas station. Except for that, I haven’t stopped driving.

Everything in me aches. I ache for what I’ve given up, for what comes next.

What I’ll tell my father, my town.

Golden girl. Magna cum laude. Homecoming queen. Daydreamer. Chef.

My entire life I have been everything to everyone. Tonight, I may as well add liar to the mix.

The turn comes up so fast I almost miss it.

I slam the brakes and jerk the wheel, but overcompensate, turning weakly one-handed. Gravel flies as the old Jeep spins. My stomach sours, acrid bile hitting my throat. The Jeep slides a few inches forward into the ditch, and then it sighs to a stop.

No.

I grab the keys, turning hard, willing for it to start. But the Jeep stays horrifically motionless.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I whisper hoarsely.

There are not enough miles between me and Aiden. Sooner or later, he’ll catch up with me.

My palms dampen on the steering wheel. The cab of the jeep fills with the sound of my labored breathing.

I can’t let him win. He already took my arm and my bakery, he’s not taking anything else from me.

I want to be safe.

I want to live.

I want to be free.

Help. I need help.

Before I left home, my father had pulled me aside under the awning of his old cabin and pressed a hundred-dollar bill in my hand. He kissed my cheek and told me, “Don’t be too proud to come back home, you hear?”

Another voice rings in my ears.

Rugged. Deep.

A voice I’ve clung to the last six years, but foolishly ignored.

“Pull it together,” I tell myself, running a shaky palm over my stomach. Reaching over, I grab the dog tag from the broken lock box on the passenger seat and slip the chain around my neck.