by Fiona Keane
I felt horrible for not saying goodbye to Olivia. Part of me hoped her dad would come up with a story about my call that would keep her satisfied for a while, or at least until she started to wonder where Soph was. Shit. Soph!
I ran back into the hotel and slowed my pace outside of our door, quietly placing the key into the slot. I held the knob to the right, hoping to prevent the latch from snapping upon entry. Perfect. I tiptoed beyond the stale bathroom and back to the bed. Just as I had left her, Soph was sleeping. Her brows met above her beautiful eyes, her lips were beginning to quiver.
“No…” she mumbled in her sleep and I froze. “…don’t…S’il vous plaît ne prenez pas ma mère…S’il vous plaît…Ne pas lui faire du mal.”
I couldn’t understand anything she was moaning about in French, but the tone of her voice and her quickly rising chest translated everything I needed. She needs me. I set my phone against the laminate nightstand and slowly walked around to Soph’s side of the bed. I watched her body fidget, uncomfortable and fighting some demon within her nightmare. Slowly, I lowered myself onto the mattress at her side, wrapping my left arm around her and holding her until the trembling stopped.
“Ma proteger.” Her whispered word was barely audible as her back moved closer against my body and her heart went still. Her protector. That, I knew, because that is who I am.
“How long have you been watching me?” Sophia’s foggy voice mumbled as she turned beneath my arm.
“I’ve been up since four.”
“Jameson.” She wiggled out from my grasp and sat against the acrylic headboard. “You won’t be able to drive anywhere today on three hours of sleep.”
“It was enough.”
Shaking her head at me, Soph climbed from the bed and headed for the bathroom. In her absence, I reached for my phone and prayed for a message from Olivia’s dad. There it was. A Memphis address. Thank you.
“Where are we going today?”
“Let’s talk about it over breakfast.”
She stepped out of the bathroom, her hair pulled back and her eyes wide. “Jameson, it’s practically noon. We’ll talk about it over lunch. Or we can talk about it now.”
“Soph…” A sigh escaped my lips and I looked away. “We need a plan.”
I thought about the conversation Thomas, Elizabeth, and I had, the pieces of this puzzle falling into place. I wasn’t entirely sure how to discuss with Soph that we were already connected, separate from fate. She broke my daze, her sweet hum pulling me back to her.
“We’ll talk about it over lunch. Get me out of here. Please.”
She lifted my school bag into her arms and headed for the door, stubborn and determined. Just the way I liked Soph. I watched her foot begin to impatiently tap against the filthy carpet of the doorway.
“Coming?”
“Yes, ma’am.” My grin was unbreakable, watching Soph wait for me at the door with her hands tightly bound around my bag. “Want me to carry that?”
“Uh…” She looked at the bag and back at me, her eyes nervous. “…No. It’s just my clothes.”
I glanced at her, my eyes narrowing against the soft blue beams into her soul. “And their money.”
Soph quickly turned from me, walking toward the hotel lobby. My strides were lengthy, but I could keep up with her. She was heading to the car when I caught up with her, my hands fiddling with the car key.
“Get in,” she mumbled as I approached, her words hasty and low.
I obliged, unlocking the doors and getting into the driver’s seat. While starting the car and fastening my seatbelt, I watched Soph drop the bag at her feet and turn in her seat. Her face was inches from mine as she stared at me.
“What’s wrong?” I responded with an equally intense expression. No more secrets. I have to tell her what I know.
“I stole one hundred thousand dollars from Thomas and Elizabeth.”
I had no response. None. Nothing. Mute.
Her right hand grabbed mine, squeezing. “Jameson. Say something.”
I looked down at our hands, my eyes slowly traveling back to Soph’s face.
“You stole one hundred thousand dollars from Thomas and Elizabeth.”
“Y-yes. I did. Oh, my god, I’m going to jail. Aren’t I?”
“You stole. Money. From them.”
I was frozen in my seat, watching Soph curl into herself on the passenger seat. Her head went between her lifted knees, arms covering her face. She told me she took money. My sweet, unpredictable, thief…wait.
“Where did you find it, Soph?” I waited for her silence to subside, but she remained curled into her ball of protection. “Soph, you’re not going to jail. Did you go through his office? Just tell me where you found it.”
“The safe inside the safe room.”
“Jesus.” I scratched my face. “It was open? They’re not even staying there right now. Someone could’ve stolen whatever was inside of it.”
Her head lifted, those beautiful eyes dampening with anxious tears, and Soph bit her bottom lip with a small smile.
“I…” A giggle came too. “I cracked the code.” Jesus. This girl.
“You have to tell me about it over lunch.” I softened just watching her, and pulled from the parking lot. “We both have a lot to discuss.”
I heard the puff of air escaping her lungs while she adjusted into her seat, noticing her face turn toward the window. My intention was to make it as far as we could before eating, but already the fifteen minutes of not discussing the enormously hideous elephant in the backseat was knotting my muscles and tightening my nerves.
“Are you okay?”
I met her gaze, realizing I had been chewing my right thumb while driving. “No. We need to talk, Soph.”
She continued looking at me, her quiet eyes speaking volumes in their permission for me to speak. I dropped my right hand against the gearshift and switched lanes. We were somewhere between the Georgia-Alabama border, in the middle of nowhere, with one hundred thousand dollars in cash napping between Soph’s ankles and I still hadn’t told her what I knew. I’m pathetic.
“It might not be crepes.” I tried to smile at her. “But how does a fast food picnic sound?”
She smiled at me, ever so faintly. “It sounds perfect, Jameson.”
Soph’s hand rested on top of mine, softening the nervous crawl of more secrets running along my skin. As soon as I saw a stop with fast food signs, I pulled off the freeway.
“What do you want?” I asked, driving into the order lane and looking over at her. Soph was biting the inside of her lip, as though ordering fast food was one of the most difficult decisions for her.
“Soph? What do you want?”
“I don’t know.” She giggled. “I’ve…I’ve never really eaten fast food…what’s good?”
“This place has anything. You name it. You want a milkshake, done. Fries? Done. A burger? Done.”
“That sounds like the best stomachache ever. Yes, please. All of that.”
My mouth gaped. There was no way she could consume all that food. But then again, I hadn’t anticipated Soph breaking a safe, stealing one hundred thousand dollars, running away, and following me on our journey. Maybe her propensity to consume fast food was a small surprise, but considering she was full of them, it was endearingly hilarious.
“That’s my girl.” I laughed, pulling up to the speaker and ordering.
Her figure shifted in the passenger seat, preparing for the gross amount of disgustingness we ordered. I headed off down the slow street toward a travel stop. The parking lot was entirely empty, but for a few seagulls waddling around the multiple overloaded trashcans. Opening my door, I reached for the bag from Soph’s lap.
“Where are you going with my milkshake?” Soph smiled at me, shaking her head.
I nodded toward the back, waiting for her to follow. I lifted the hatch door and we both crawled in. It was a feeding frenzy—neither of us realizing that we hadn’t eaten in almost a day. It was a si
lence accompanied by gnawing, mashing, slurping, and moans of taste delight. Even devouring fast food, my heart pounded for this girl. Her head fell against my shoulder while we sat in the back, staring at the cars zooming by on the freeway.
“How’s your burger?” I mumbled between bites.
“Do you remember when you took me on a date?” She said, as though the memory from a few weeks ago had happened years prior and been entirely forgettable when it wasn’t. “We ended up having burgers and milkshakes on the beach.”
“I remember.” I kissed the top of her head. “That seems to be our go-to. Maybe when we’re an old married couple we can have that every year for our anniversary.”
“Maybe.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
SOPHIA
An old married couple? I think my heart just exploded. Or my mind had exploded. One of the two, because I was entirely unable to move or even chew the glob of burger resting on my tongue.
“We’ll be old someday, Soph.” He laughed. “But in the meantime, let’s just make it through every day. Together, preferably.” Okay.
My chest was tightening, reacting nervously to his comment. Jameson did things to my soul that Oxford hadn’t developed language to describe. It was burning, possessively and warmly, but I was also frightened of the strength with which my heart beat for him, and for us.
I watched from my periphery, my head still nuzzled against his warm shoulder, while Jameson crumpled up some of our wrappers and sipped from his milkshake. I was finally able to resume chewing.
“It’s surprisingly peaceful out here. Isn’t it?”
I looked at the busy freeway, lined with hills of pines, wondering what Jameson meant.
“It’s just that nobody’s here,” he continued. “We have the car to ourselves with nothing in front of us but 231—the open road.”
“Where are we going?”
It was time to poke the elephant. Lifting my head from his shoulder, I tossed my burger wrapper and empty milkshake into the bag in his hands. Jameson was quick to toss it into the trashcan feet from the car before turning to face me. His left leg, bent at the knee, was tucked under him while the right dangled over the bumper.
“I need to just be entirely honest with you, Soph. There’s a lot more going on than we even know. First, we’re going to Memphis.”
“So there’s a destination? What’s there?”
Memphis? I wasn’t much of a country music fan. I had never heard Jameson speak of anywhere outside of Florida except Chicago and San Francisco, so what was in Memphis? Jameson’s fingers pressed through his hair, pulling the mess tightly in his fists before his palms slapped against his thighs.
“I called someone who can help us. I can’t tell you who, but just know that we can trust him. He’s getting us new passports. New identification. We’re…here we go again.” Jameson’s head hung. I watched his chest move with an irregular pattern, his head shaking with despondency.
“We’re not going to be Sophia Reid and Jameson Burke after this trip.”
“Well,” I swallowed, thinking of the finality of those words. “Were we anyway? Even without new names?”
“I guess not.” His smile returned for a brief moment before I felt the burn of his hazel eyes against my face. “You’re okay with that, Soph?”
“No. I really like Jameson Burke. He’s my boyfriend.”
I hadn’t said that out loud. Boyfriend.
Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend.
Jameson. He is my boyfriend and we’re running away. We’re like the nonviolent, non-bank-robbing, traumatized youth version of Bonnie and Clyde…wait…I robbed a safe.
I didn’t know how I could attach myself to another identity. I was gaping at Jameson, my heart flooding with memories of the tanned, scruffy-haired mystery who eluded my heart without me knowing I was in the chase.
“He is.” The mischievous grin from day one returned, sparkling its taunting beauty at me. “He’s not going anywhere. Just the Burke part. I don’t think I could handle another first name change. You’ll still be Soph to me no matter what. You know that?”
“Thank you.”
“You’re handling this better than I anticipated,” he sighed. “I just want to be sure you’re okay. I mean, you know I’ll be at your side if this causes a panic attack…I’m not going anywhere.”
“Tell me why we’re going. Please.”
He nodded, swallowing hard before continuing. The lost expression on his face warned my heart of nothing good, nothing positive was about to leave his lips and voyage into my mind. Except for the sound of his voice. The distant hum of freeway traffic filtered into the car while Jameson spoke, a sort of dull soundtrack to his imperative tone.
“When you left the Ritz,” he began, his voice shaking, “Elizabeth got a call from someone at the DOJ. I guess Thomas has been working with this person for a while, at least since he found out more about Simon and whatever files he showed him over Memorial Day.”
I felt my milkshake already dancing in my stomach, threatening to return to daylight. I hadn’t thought about Simon and Jules so far since running. I hadn’t thought about Thomas and Elizabeth. I had only thought about Jameson and me.
“Do you believe in fate, Soph?”
“What?” I studied the way his eyes glanced at me from the side, his face apprehensively turning from mine.
“Fate. Things coming together for a greater purpose. Do you believe in it?”
“Absolutely.”
He nodded, looking back at the freeway. “It seems that you and I are more connected than we thought, or knew.”
“Of course we are,” I scoffed. “This feeling, the way our souls explode when you barely touch my hand, or the way you’ve shattered my walls—our walls! That’s not casual, Jameson. That’s fate. Nobody has done it, but for you. Nobody could.”
My mind slipped back to the first night Jameson came into my room, the fire that poured between our skin when he touched me…
“You’re absolutely right.” He reached for my hand. “Since day one, I’ve told you that you’ve changed me. You’ve broken my walls, Soph. You’ve made me want to share secrets with you that I haven’t even learned. My body literally aches for you when we’re not together. I’m…”
“What?” Oh, god.
“I need to tell you something serious.”
I was biting my lip, almost to the point of blood, in suspense. What was he about to say…? My ribs were struggling, desperately, to contain my wildly beating heart.
“Go on…”
Jameson’s head rocked back for a moment before his gaze once again penetrated my core. “I’m just going to say it…shit…sorry…”
“Shit,” I mocked, growing frustrated. “Just say it!”
“You already know Simon’s brother was one of the lunatics who killed my mom and sister.”
My head shook, hoping to dismiss this reality, to dismiss this dreadful connection. “Did Simon know that? Does Jules know that?” Poor Jules.
“He knew. She might not. I don’t know what he’s told her about his life or his family. My guess is he hasn’t told her anything. Considering the fact he put a tracker in her niece’s cell phone…I’m guessing she is as oblivious as we were.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“There’s more, Soph.”
How could there be more? It was simple: Simon’s brother was a murderer. I couldn’t believe Simon would be in any way associated with criminals. He was so stale, so pasty and rich, but still so kind to me. Before I knew he was tracking my phone. Wait. Where do I fit into this?
“Jameson.” My fingers were beginning to shake, rattling the anxious pain along my arms while it fanned its evil grasp along my chest and up the length of my neck. He reached out for my right hand, clutching it with a painfully intense hold.
“What…how…” I couldn’t form a coherent thought. “Jame…wait…”
“Take a deep breath.” His hand squeezed
around my sweating palm. “One…two…three…” My head shook and I pulled my hand from his, fanning it rapidly at my side.
“How do I fit into this, J-Jameson?” My throat was increasingly tight, words barely able to form. His brow met, trepidation fanning his handsome face, while he looked at me. Jameson seemed a mile away, distant and empty, while our knees touched.
“Simon’s brother was one of the people who killed my mom and sister,” he restated, as though it helped address reality. “He was one who got caught, so he went to jail.”
“Is he still in jail?”
“No. He was in a gang of thugs, drug-addicted murderers. One of their other poor excuses for a living entity killed him in jail.”
“Oh.”
I couldn’t imagine the pain this caused Jameson. His wounds were scabbed, picked open and rubbed until the irritation numbed his soul. He was raw to me, entirely exposed, having to relive memories that had been carefully stored in the past, waiting to come out through his nightmares and panic attacks. I wanted to reach over and hold him, but I felt paralyzed. My brain and body weren’t connecting; I could not move.
“But Simon is as messed up as they come,” he continued, brutally biting his bottom lip between thoughts. “He is stalking me because he thinks I am responsible for his brother’s death.”
“No.”
“Yes.” He nodded, his lip returning to the piercing position between his white teeth. “Your aunt is dating a psychopath. She let a damn psycho into your life and, no offense, Soph, but I could kill her for it.”
“She doesn’t know,” the words whispered from my lips as my eyes pulled away from Jameson, resuming their unfocused gaze at the freeway.
It was silent, but for the distant hum of traffic, and the space between us was filling with an angry, resentful energy. I needed a knife to cut through it. I couldn’t explain it; it was jelly, oozing and thick, creating a barrier between us for no reason other than mutual hurt and confusion.
“I agree with you,” he muttered, “but she brought a mentally unstable person into your world and, Soph, the risk that places you in makes my mind numb.”
“Jameson,” I turned back to him, my words slicing through the barrier, “…I’m safe with you.”
