Page 19 of Allie's Shelter
Ross cleared his throat. “If you’d trust me, I can help you figure this out.”
“Not like I have anything more to lose. Unless you walk away.”
“Beg your pardon?”
Oh, that wasn’t what she meant and she said so, hearing herself run off at the mouth. “You can walk away from this. From me. I mean, don’t feel obligated or anything. Turning myself in won’t be all bad, aside from the jail thing, because I didn’t actually kill him.”
“So you’ve never heard of the falsely imprisoned?”
“Of course. But there can’t be any real evidence tying me to that crime.”
“Police departments don’t issue alerts without reason, Allie.”
She supposed he was right.
“I have resources,” he said. “You might as well make the most of them.”
“Last night on the treadmill, I decided on Idaho.”
“What?”
“My new plan was to get lost in Idaho.”
“And what? Farm potatoes?”
He made her smile. He’d always been able to do that. She found it a little disconcerting that even in the midst of the worst days of her life he could make her smile. “Farming potatoes sounds like heaven about now.”
When he choked on a laugh, something deep inside her clicked into place. As if her system had been a half beat out of rhythm all this time and being with Ross lined everything up the way it should be.
She couldn’t call it frightening, not after the real, physical fear dogging her for so long. But she wasn’t sure she could call it comforting either. She pushed on with the analogy. “Never heard of a potato resulting in death or destruction.”
“Other than the famine thing.” He winked at her. “But all that dirt and quiet. You’d go crazy.”
The smile on her face in the reflection of the window surprised her. “Not that different from here.”
“Different dirt. Different quiet,” he insisted. “Think of the weather.”
She didn’t know anything about Idaho weather, but she’d look it up online later just for fun. “Idaho has good skiing. You always said you wanted to learn how to ski.”
“Now you’re dragging me with you to the potato farm?”
“Hypothetical potato farm.”
“Thank God for small favors.” He slowed the car and waited for oncoming traffic so he could make a left turn.
“Where are we going?”
“My equivalent of your potato farm.”
“You’re really going to stick this out with me, aren’t you?”
“Yup.”
“Why?”
“Because someone is determined to frame you within an inch of your life. I’m not about to let that happen.”
Even if she’d had the words, she wouldn’t have been able to push them past the lump of gratitude lodged in her throat. “That might be the kindest thing you’ve ever said to me.”