We're Not Related Anymore...

Can't Keep Avoiding This

Maddie: Present Time

The moment we get home, I get my bags and head out again. I barely pause to give my goodbyes to the twins. I said my goodbyes to Josh at the restaurant and besides him, no other parting mattered. Since I've moved to L.A. I see my mother frequently so there's no need to give each other long and meaningful hugs.

I think I'm almost in the clear, standing out by the curb of the road when Jacob's deep voice has me turning around.

"I get the hurry but surely you could spare me two words before you fly back." He's still wearing the button-down blue shirt from earlier and I have to admire the way it hugs his biceps. Stop it, I tell my brain, grateful when I see a black car matching the Uber's description.

"Actually, I'm taking an Uber to take me to the bus," I say, thanking God when it pulls up not an inch away from where I'm standing.

"I'll take you," Jacob says, nearing me. His eyes are open and he looks vulnerable. It almost makes me feel bad for trying to ditch him so as not to say goodbye.

"It's a little late for that," I tell him, about to round the car so that I can throw my suitcase in the back.

"Sorry, sir. She's not going to need the ride," I hear Jacob say. I turn and see he's leaning down near the driver's window. Before I can ask him what the hell he thinks he's doing, the car peels off from the road.

"Hey!" I shout to the car, but it's already speeding away. I whirl, landing Jacob with a glare. "Why'd you do that?" I ask, dropping my suitcase down on the grass edging the road.

"I told you. I'll give you a ride." He works with such speed that before I can even process the situation, he's taken my suitcase and placed it in the trunk of his old black BMW.

I march up to him, ready to throw down. "You're just like your mom," I spit.

"I take it that's not a compliment," he tells me and opens the door to the driver's side. I know there's no way I can get out of this. He's holding my stuff hostage in his car and I actually do need the few meaningful things in there.

Huffing, I let myself into the passenger seat and cross my arms after engaging my seatbelt.

I'm so mad, I don't realize we're going the wrong way until I see a sign advertising early tickets to some kind of rodeo clown festival.

"Are you kidnapping me?" I ask, watching the surroundings fade from buildings into long stretches of yellowing fields. "You're going the wrong way."

"I'm taking you to the airport," he tells me, completely at ease, never taking his eyes off the road.

"I don't have money for another plane ticket," I say, hating the tinge of desperation that has crept into my voice.

"Relax," He tells me. "I'll pay for it."

I want to tell him that I don't want his money but there's no point. He'll still take me to the airport even though it grates against my pride. And as much as I hate to admit it, the gesture is sweet. First letting me sleep in his bed and now driving me to the airport and paying for my ticket? The asshole has started to thaw my heart. I wanted so bad to be mad at him forever and now he's making it hard. It pisses me off.

I watch the darkening clouds in the sky as he speeds over the empty, cracked road. There aren't many cars this far out of town and it makes everything feel abandoned, like we're the only two people here in this world. I like this feeling even if everything in my body warns me not to. This kind of atmosphere always makes my tongue loose, wanting to say everything that floats through my brain.