Page 24 of Tangled Up In You
Beneath them, Max swerved on the road. “What?”
Ren quickly waved her hands. “Never mind. No,” she said with more force. “Ignore me. I do not want to turn around.”
He weighed the relative bummer of losing three hours round trip with the even greater bummer of continuing with her for the next few days. “We’re only a couple hours out. If you want to turn around, tell me now.”
“No. Keep going.” But then she groaned, leaning her head back against the seat. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them, right?”
“Look…I know this is stressful for you, okay? No harm, no foul. Tell me now, and I can take you back.”
“No. No.” And then she released a tight “I’m just a terrible daughter, that’s all” and dropped her head into her hands.
“Let me ask you something,” he said, then attempted another sip of the now-cold sugar bomb she’d bought him. “Does anyone other than me know that you left?”
She reached down to fidget with the notebook on her lap. “Of course.”
An obvious lie.
“Does that seem like a safe choice?” he asked her, holding up a hand when she started to protest. “Come on, kid.”
“I’m almost twenty-three, Fitz, I’m not a kid.”
He huffed out a laugh. “I’m just saying, you barely know me.”
“You?” She turned those giant green eyes on him. “I think under that cocky shell, you’re a big softie.”
He laughed, incredulous. “I assure you, no female has ever called me that before.”
She smiled, sweetly. Too sweetly. “Fine,” she said. “You’re a little softie.”
“Oh my God. That’s not—”
“Anyway,” she said, putting on that tough face again. “I told you, it’s not your business where I’m going or who knows.”
“You shouldn’t trust me just because we go to school together.”
Beaming like she had him cornered, she said, “The fact that you’re worried about this tells me you’re a good guy.”
A good guy? She had no idea. “Just—You’ll get your own hotel room, okay? And keep the door locked.”
“A hotel?”
He did a double take over at her. “Yes…?”
“We’re not staying in hotels, are we?”
Fitz coughed in disbelief. “You want to sleep on the street?”
“Not in the street, but I thought we’d be sleeping in the car.”
A laugh burst free. “Hell no.”
“I don’t have money for a hotel, Fitz. I only have some money for food.”
“What do you mean?” Panic rose in his throat. “How did you expect to get across the country?”
“Well, you threw out my sandwiches, which is definitely unfortunate because—”
“Wait.” Alarm bells sounded. Somehow, he suspected their definition of some money for food didn’t align. “How much money do you have in your bank account?”