Page 109 of Exodus
“Yes. Why do you keep asking me?”
“Why now?”
“Because I’ve avoided it long enough.” I take a turn onto the familiar road and a smile graces my face as it stretches out before us.
I can feel Ryan pause next to me. “What’s that smile?”
Rolling the windows down, the wind whips through the car along with the whisper of a memory, of a voice.
Eggs—runny, coffee—black.
“Music,” I say softly, turning up the radio, “loud.”
“What’s that?” Ryan says, flipping through his cell.
“Cars,” I finish glancing his way before flooring the gas, “fast.” Ryan’s eyes bulge, his jaw going slack before I turn my attention back to the road and open it up. Racing down the straightaway, I feed on the exhilaration as the hairs on my arm start to rise.
“Cecelia?” Ryan’s voice rattles with anxiety.
“Yeah?” I manage through a laugh.
“What are you doing?”
The lyrics of “The Pretender” by Foo Fighters blasts through the car. I shake my head ironically and shift. If it’s memories I’m unearthing, then I plan on doing it right. I’ve faced the boogeyman, hell, I fell in love with him and survived. I survived a lot more than that.
It’s time to unpack.
I glance over and answer him honestly.
“We’re blowing the dust off.” We shoot forward, and Ryan lets out a ladylike shriek.
“Cecelia, slow down before you make me a praying Christian!”
A laugh bursts from my lips. “Hang on.”
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Ryan mumbles in pure fear next to me just before we skid around a curve on all fours. I correct the wheel, downshift, and stomp on it, plastering him back in his seat.
Ryan slaps one hand to the dash while gripping the oh-shit handle with the other. “Yep, I just tasted the omelet I ate this morning.”
I can feel his stare on me as I let loose, soaking up the adrenaline, feeling anything but numb. I take another turn that has us edging the shoulder briefly before I find purchase on the cement.
“Cee, what is happening right now? Is this some sort of cry for help?”
I grin, shaking my head like a lunatic, letting the music fuel me. “We’re waking up ghosts, Rye, and it’s way too late for help.”
“Waking up ghosts, huh? Well, I’ll be honest, I’m not interested in becoming one of them, and I’m too fucking pretty to die so young. Slow the fuck down!”
My answering laugh is maniacal, and I can feel the fear rolling off him. “Relax.”
“Not fucking likely.” He cranes his neck to look behind us. “Are we running from someone?”
“Not this time.” I take one last turn, and we fishtail into the entrance of the plant. With ease, I whip us into a parking spot and glance at Ryan, who’s varying shades of white. Grinning, I glance up at the building and feel no apprehension. I can do this. I can free myself. I’ve got the strength to try. And if the stars are kind enough to align for me, maybe I can forgive myself, forgive them, and finally move on. “I think I’m ready.”
Ryan dry heaves next to me. “I’m going to need a minute.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Isit at one of the conference tables adjacent to the lobby as Ryan guides me through the proposal page by page. Once he’s satisfied, he takes the seat next to me and hands me a pen. “Initial here, and here.”