Easier to Run Read online

  “I-I was af-raid you w-wouldn’t want to s-see me.” I tried to calm down and regain my ability to speak, but my “good days” were long gone.

  He kissed my forehead. “Never happen, Cas. How have you been?”

  I shrugged, and his face twisted in a gentle admonishment. He never let me get away with silent gestures and signing, even when I dreaded what might come out of my mouth. Over the years, his stubborn pushing forced down my walls and eased my anxiety. But now, I dreaded talking more than ever. I dreaded the disappointment I’d see when I could barely stutter through a simple phrase let alone a sentence. My gut was twisted and tied up in knots that tightened every muscle in my body and set my nerves to a furious burn.

  “We’re not going back to that, are we?” he asked.

  “S-six years,” I stuttered again.

  Even for him the flash of disappointment in my regression was evident, but then he smiled gently. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Six years…. I missed you. Spent a lot of time wondering how you were doing.”

  “I survived,” I spoke slowly and managed to avoid any horrible stutters. Even the small accomplishments could be a minor boost to my confidence. “N-new truck?”

  Damn it.

  “Same old.” He smiled looking up at it. “I had some upgrades, and we had a rebranding of the company a few years back, so it was painted to fit the new look.”

  “Looks good.” I tried avoiding his stare by looking at all of the shiny bits of chrome on the truck, but I could feel his gaze eating me alive.

  The tall blue and white semi towered over us. His home away from home. I envied it almost as much as I envied his ability to speak so easily. He’d started driving for his dad’s company as soon as he graduated, and on breaks from school, I always begged him to take me with him. I loved the feeling of being on the road. Free. Safe. All of his trips were in-state then, and we were always back on the same day. After he had turned twenty-one, he upgraded to the sleeper cab—his father’s old truck. I’d only been inside it a few times, but I could still see it in my memory, and even smell the freshly laundered blankets in the back.

  I had been terrified that his job would finally take him away from me, and begged him to take me on his first overnight run. It was only one night, the week before I was due to go back to school. It was supposed to be my final escape from the nightmares that waited for me at home with my sister and her husband, Mitchel. While I waited for him to finish so we could check into a hotel, I curled up on the small bed in the sleeper compartment and wrote all of my biggest secrets into a letter. I couldn’t give it to him, so I hid it in the back, behind a piece of plastic at the foot of the bed. I wondered if it was still there. If he’d ever discovered my hiding place.

  Even if he had, my confession was useless because he’d found out all of my secrets as soon as he’d pulled up to my sister’s house to drop me off the next evening.

  Her death and the memory of Mitchel still haunted my every move. Just like the memory of sitting in the hospital waiting room with them, Ben, and his family, when the doctor came out to tell us that they couldn’t save either my mother or father.

  Ben sat against the bumper, then took my hand again, pulling me closer, and freeing me from the stream of memories. Although his torso still bulged with muscle, they were more discreet than the rippling figure he’d maintained through high school and the few years after. He’d been the star running back of our high school football team. The boy who could make almost any girl stop in her tracks. His days of football were long gone, but despite the hours he probably spent sitting behind a steering wheel, he’d stayed in good shape.

  “How long are you around for?” he asked.

  “D-don’t know.” I didn’t plan on staying around, but I had no idea where I was going either.

  He exhaled loudly and his thumb rubbed gently at my palm. “I really don’t want to cut this short, but I have deadlines to hit all over the place. By this time next week I’ll be in Florida. I’ll be out for ten days.”

  That sounded lovely. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood.

  He touched my chin, but I jerked away. My first thought was to run as fast as I could back to my car.

  Instead, I resisted the jolt of panic when I met his gleaming green eyes. Every emotion I’d kept sealed away slammed into me until my chest burned with a hundred unspoken pleas. “Take me.”

  I barely kept my voice steady and the tears at bay. Let me run away with you. Avoid the world. Forget the pain. See the palm trees.

  Remember what it’s like to feel safe.

  His answer came faster than I ever expected—like a lifeguard jumping in without hesitation to pull me to safety. “You’ll have to come inside and sign paperwork.”

  I felt like the center of a stretched out spring that had just been released. Could it be that easy?

  He gestured toward the back of the building. “I’m sure Dad will be glad to see you.”

  I had to swallow, but my stomach felt so hard I wasn’t sure if it could take it. I nodded.

  “You know our rules,” he whispered. His brown hair was shorter now, like he’d recently had a buzz cut—and although I missed the old, messy way he used to wear it, he didn’t really look that different. Staring into his expression, I almost thought the last six years were a nightmare. How was it possible he could still look at me the same way? The same intense and unfurling look in his eyes.

  “Your rules,” I shot back. Then, I grinned. So much easier than I thought.

  “Come on.” As soon as his arm came around my shoulders, I felt a chunk of my past fall away. I was lighter, freer than I’d felt in years. I thought that if I looked back, I might see something that I’d lost laying on the ground behind us, but I didn’t dare. Ben led me to the door I’d seen him come out of. The room was busy with chatter that hushed when we entered.

  “Passenger form, please,” Ben said to the woman behind the counter.

  She eyed me, then Ben. “Unless she’s family, you know you need prior—”

  “It can’t be,” said a man’s voice behind us.

  I turned toward the familiar voice, keeping close to Ben in case my brain was playing tricks on me—it was infamous for that.

  “You can’t tell me you actually miss going out on the road with him,” the older man said, with a grin so wide it pinched his eyes. Chuck’s thinning hair was greyer than I remembered, but his eyes were still a sparkling green that matched Ben’s.

  I nodded. And this time, Ben let me get away with it. Mixed company was not one of the situations I took well to being pushed in, and there were far too many people in the room I didn’t know.

  Chuck gave me a quick hug, then looked to the woman at the desk. “She has standing approval. Give them the paperwork.”

  After six years, I’d expected everything to be different. I didn’t exactly think I’d be forgotten—far from that—but I didn’t expect to simply be welcomed back in like nothing had happened.

  “How long have you been in town?” Chuck asked. He also knew about my problem quite well, but that didn’t stop him from treating me just like he treated his other children. Sometimes that was good, and sometimes not so much.

  I ran over a dozen possible ways to answer, looking for the least amount of words that would give me the least trouble. My short ambiguous answers could just as easily led to more questions, but when stuttering through to get out a sentence, it was best to keep it as short as possible. “Few days.”

  “You’ll have to come over for dinner when you get back. We’ll throw together a cookout.” He patted the back of my head and left us to do the paperwork. Ben filled out most of it, then slid it over for me to sign.

  “Never b-before,” I whispered to him when I didn’t think anyone else would hear.

  “You were under eighteen. Your mom and sister took care of it then.” He handed the paper back to the secretary who looked it over then nodded.

  “Now,” Ben whispered. “Are you
planning on wearing that outfit for the next week and a half?”

  I looked down, this was where an ambiguous answer would just make things weirder, but before I had to speak he led me outside where there were fewer people. “I j-just came to town. All my s-stuff is in the c-car.” As long as I spoke slowly, I could manage to muddle through with just a few blocks and stutters, but it was still an utter mess.

  Ben grinned and shook his head, moving past the corner to the parking lot. He stopped as soon as he saw the gleaming silver Toyota in the parking lot.

  “I didn’t m-manage to keep m-much, but th-they let me keep the car.” Rachel’s car. It still felt weird, but it was one of the few reminders I kept of my sister. I still used the same air freshener that she had kept in it.

  After she died and I suffered through Mitchel’s trial, custody of me went to my grandparents. I had to move out of state, away from everything I knew—good or bad. My grandparents tried to get rid of the car—after all, they didn’t think I should be going anywhere on my own, but after my parents death and the resulting insanity, my sister had decided to make out a will. Which at least gave my grandparents a hard time in trying to get rid of everything.

  I popped open the trunk, which was nearly filled to capacity with clothes.

  “You weren’t planning on a short visit, then?” Ben said with a clipped laugh.

  “I, uh—” Staring at the mess of clothes and belongings—everything I had—I couldn’t give him an answer because I didn’t have one.

  “You don’t even have a plan,” a touch of humor lifted his smooth voice as he spoke.

  His hand squeezed my shoulder, and I wanted to collapse under his touch—not because it was heavy, but because it felt as if all of the tension drained from my body so quickly that I lost all substance. “I don’t.”

  “Well then, grab what you’re taking,” he said, leaning against the fender while I stuffed a variety of clothes into a bag. He grabbed the bag as soon as I closed the trunk and took my hand. “Then, maybe I can convince you to stick around.”

  Good luck. Even for him that was going to be a tall order, but my hand felt so warm in his—so right. Maybe for the first time in years, I’d finally be able to let my guard down. Even just a little piece of it—a crack I might be able to breathe through.

  But if that happened, I was afraid of what else might slip out as well.

  “Cassie,” Mrs. Bryant said, trying to intersect her youngest daughter before she reached the two teenagers sitting at the kitchen table. “Will you leave Ben and your sister alone? They’re trying to study.”

  The young girl ducked next to Ben. “I w-want to study with them.”

  “Right, Cas,” Rachel rolled her eyes. “We’re not doing fifth-grade work, and I’d really like to see you do freshman algebra. Solve a problem and you can stay.” Rachel smirked and shoved her notebook toward Cassie.

  “Why are there l-letters?”

  “See,” Rachel jerked back the notebook. “Go away.”

  Cassie looked to Ben. He was always caught helplessly in the middle of their arguments. He glanced at Rachel then shrugged and showed Cassie one of the sample problems.

  “Got it,” Cassie said.

  “Right,” Rachel huffed again, but Cassie jerked the notebook back and stared at the next problem scribbled on the page.

  “You’re wasting our time, Cassie.” Rachel tugged at the notebook, but her sister refused to let go.

  Cassie frowned, then stared at the problem a few seconds longer. “The answer is five.”

  Rachel stared at her sister for a long moment, then down at the notebook and she quickly worked it out, writing down each step of the problem. “Lucky guess.”

  “Then g-give me another,” Cassie said, leaning over the table. Ben scribbled down a problem and slid his paper over to her. She took his pencil and worked it out line by line as Rachel had just done. “T-twenty-seven.”

  Ben took a moment and checked her work. “She’s right again.”

  Rachel glared at her little sister. “How can a fifth grader pick up ninth grade math easier than me?”

  “Fifth-grade work is boring,” Cassie said, shrugging and taking a seat next to Ben. “I always t-tell you that, but n-no one listens to me.”

  “Maybe it’s time we do,” Mrs. Bryant said, also slightly taken aback by her youngest daughter. “But, for now, let Ben and your sister work.”

  “I’ll sit here and be quiet,” Cassie pleaded, folding her hands in her lap. “Besides, Rachel said if I s-solved the problem, I could stay.”

  Rachel shook her head. “Oh, fine. It’ll be quicker to give in than to argue. Can’t take Cassie away from her Ben.”

  It was Cassie’s turn to roll her eyes.

  Ben smirked but held his tongue. After five years of putting up with the sisters, that was something he learned to do especially well.

  Ben

  Cassie Bryant. As we walked across the parking lot, I remembered the first time I had seen her. I was ten years old and facing down a new town when Dad took a permanent job at Remington Trucking. Our families became quick friends and usually gathered together in one of our backyards whenever there was warm weather—and even sometimes when it was frigid. And Cassie stuck to me like Velcro.

  Even though she was quiet around most people, she craved attention. Even as a kid, I’d had no trouble figuring that out. She got along well enough with her family, but I always thought she felt pressured to keep up with her sister so she wouldn’t feel like the odd person out. Despite our five-year age gap, I didn’t mind her hanging out with me. She was a brilliant kid—who managed to skip middle school and go straight to high school after she got so bored with school work that she blatantly refused to do her homework. It pissed me off that few others gave her the time to show just how much she had to offer.

  But, the girl at my side wasn’t a kid anymore. Her blonde hair was shorter than she had kept it in high school—barely falling past her shoulders, and I was fairly positive she’d put on another inch of height, as well as filling out in other places I didn’t want to think about. Growing up, she’d been a bean pole—although it probably didn’t help that she was usually chasing me around the yard or the track. Now, she had slight curves, evident even though her shirt was long and loose, falling halfway down her tight jean shorts. The more I paid attention to every detail, the more I felt myself caught between the memories of growing up together juxtaposed with her now adult form.

  She squeezed my hand as we walked through the parking lot, holding closer to me every time we got in range of anyone else.

  It had been six years—six long fucking years—since I’d last seen her at Mitchel’s rape trial. I didn’t see her testimony, she had begged and pleaded with me not to be in the room, so I gave her that, waiting outside until it was all over. The sight of her coming out of that room nearly killed me—her entire body trembling, tears glistened from her eyes, and her arms wrapped around herself in a hug.

  My body shook, too. Mine from anger. If they hadn’t sentenced him to prison, I would have ripped him to shreds. The bastard still only got six to eight years.

  Six years.

  I wondered if that was why she was back. If that was why she wanted to run so badly, but I didn’t bring it up. She would have been living out of state with her grandparents so, if he’d gotten out, she’d have already been well out of his range. There was no need in coming back home—closer to where he was being held.

  I opened the passenger door, and she climbed inside. Outside of training and testing, she’d been the only person to ever ride with me.

  “Thank you,” she said softly as I climbed in.

  I couldn’t help but smile, remembering that was the first thing she’d ever said to me. After I secured her bag in the back of the cab, I grabbed a clean blanket and tossed it in her lap. She had always liked to curl up in a blanket when she rode with me. “Anytime, Cas.”

  I finished the rest of my pre-drive tasks, then fire
d up the truck. Cassie stayed quiet as I navigated through town. I didn’t know how much to push—how much I was welcome to push anymore. So I left her alone to her retreat until I was out on the quiet highway and could better gage her reactions.

  “Can I ask what brought you back?” I said.

  “C-can’t s-s-stop you.”

  All of the stuttering worried me—it usually meant she was on edge. By the time we were teenagers, she’d been able to nearly go entire days with only a few trip ups. “How long has it been since you’ve had a good day?”

  Considering the long silence that followed, I didn’t think she was going to answer. Her gaze was set on the windshield and aside from the rise and fall of her chest, she didn’t budge. “S-six years.”

  “Your grandparents didn’t put you back in speech therapy?”

  She shifted in her seat, sliding down and leaning her head against the window. “Yeah. D-didn’t help.”

  “I tried to write you—even drove up to see you on your birthday. They wouldn’t—”

  “I kn-know.” Blowing out a long breath, she traced her finger along the bottom of the window.

  Her grandparents had sent me away and told me not to even think about contacting her again. Part of me had wondered if she blamed me for not seeing what Mitchel was doing to her. For not figuring it out and getting her away from him sooner. I wondered how I missed it, but there had been so many changes after her parents had died. She was quieter. More distant. More restless.

  Her shoes scraped against each other as she fidgeted, and I warned myself to shut up while I was ahead.

  “They,” she swallowed audibly and took a deep breath. Her words came slow in an obvious attempt to navigate through them without stuttering. “They lectured m-me for an hour after they sent you away. Said I gave p-people the wrong idea by hanging out with older men.”

  I tightened my hands on the steering wheel—this was definitely not a conversation to be having on the road. Although our entire reunion probably wasn’t best suited for the road, it was the only place we had right now. And, selfish as it might be, I wasn’t willing to put it off until I got back. Nor was I certain she would wait. “Cassie, you know it wasn’t your fault. None of it.”