Nights Under the Tennessee Stars. Joanne RockЧитать онлайн книгу.
to. Still, it had been a way to drop off her car ahead of time so she’d have it for her escape. She’d told her father she’d left it at Mathilda’s, not that he’d asked. He thought mostly about work these days.
“What plan?” Mathilda pressed. “Seriously, I love you, but I’m about a minute away from ratting you out because I’m scared you’re doing something dangerous. You know you’re not supposed to go running at night by yourself.”
If only it was that simple.
Sarah watched the trucker’s signal light flip on to pass the car ahead and she turned on hers, too. It was nice having someone to follow through the dark.
“Don’t tell on me. I’m eighteen now, you know.” The Stedders had made her a cake to celebrate when her father had been on a location shoot in Georgia a couple of weeks ago. “What can the school really do to me at this point?”
For a long time she’d been waiting for the day where no one could tell her no. Even with the careful planning and occasional sneaking out, she still felt suffocated by her father. After her mom had died, he’d taken a leave from his job for over a year. He’d spent the time staring at Sarah as though she was going to be the next person to be murdered. It was enough to creep anyone out. Worse, she missed the old him. He used to be so much fun.
“Do not play that ‘I’m eighteen’ card with me,” Mathilda huffed, probably mad her birthday was still six weeks away.
“Fine. I left a couple of hours ago right after you fell asleep. I’m driving to Tennessee to see Dad and help him on his business trip.” And hide from letters that arrived from state prison.
She hadn’t opened the one that her so-called biological father had sent. Ten times over, she’d debated just burning it and pretending it had never existed. But what if he’d already mentioned her to his cell mates the way he’d talked about her mom? Thanks to him, her mother was dead. And while the guys responsible were in jail for life, that didn’t mean her sperm-contributing relative would stop talking.
Bastard. Did he want her dead next?
“Does your dad know?” Mathilda referred to Remy, of course, who was Sarah’s father in every way that mattered.
“Of course not. He’s going to kill me when I get there, but I’m going anyway.”
The fact that Mathilda was silent for a few seconds reassured Sarah. If her friend thought it was the worst plan in the world, she would have berated Sarah instantly.
“I don’t know why you couldn’t have just asked to go with him and gotten permission. Ms. Fairly is going to flip out.”
Sarah slid back into the right-hand lane behind the truck, her GPS reassuring her that she’d make it to Heartache, Tennessee, in time for breakfast.
“But that’s where the plan gets really good.” She tucked a long, brown strand of hair behind one ear and wished she had an elastic to hold it back. “I’m going to arrive at Dad’s bed-and-breakfast before the morning orientation meeting at the hotel. I’ll have Dad call Ms. Fairly and tell her that he picked me up last night for— I don’t know. Urgent family reasons.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.
“Sarah—”
“What?” she snapped, tired of tiptoeing around anything and everything that had to do with her mother’s death. “You know she’ll forgive him as soon as the words are out of his mouth. Poor Remy Weldon who lost his wife can do no wrong. Ms. Fairly practically drools on him every time she sees him.”
“It is gross,” Mathilda admitted.
“Agreed.” She rolled down her window for a little fresh air. She wasn’t tired, but she planned to take every precaution to make sure she didn’t feel sleepy. Two energy drinks rested side by side in her cup holders, but so far, adrenaline was keeping her going.
“Text me when you get there, okay? I have to know you arrived safely.”
Sarah’s throat itched from the sudden lump in it. Her friend didn’t try to “mother” her, but sometimes, when she said stuff like that, it made Sarah miss having a mom. It also made her super grateful she’d managed to keep one good friend during the hell of the past two years. She’d met Mathilda during a dark time in her life and Mathilda liked her anyway.
“Of course.” She cleared her throat and popped open one of the energy drinks.
“I can’t believe you’re not going to look at UF with me.” Mathilda wanted to be a Gator at the University of Florida in the fall, and she’d wanted Sarah to be one, too, but that wasn’t happening.
Sarah had no idea what she wanted to do. She’d spent half her high school years in mourning for her mom and then—later—for the dad who’d checked out on her, too. His parenting these past two years was a weird combo of being smothering or—lately—being absent. It sounded impossible, but he managed it well, sticking her with the Stedders, who were old enough to be her grandparents and twice as nosy. Then there were the freaked-out phone calls that came when he was away. Did he think she didn’t know he was terrified she’d get shot in the head someday, too, even though they’d moved nine hundred miles away from where her mom had died?
It was completely disturbing.
“Mathilda, no matter what happens in the fall, it doesn’t change that we’re friends.” She said it automatically, a response she’d trotted out a half-dozen times since Mathilda had forced her to fill out the paperwork for the college application.
Sarah already knew she hadn’t gotten in. Her standardized test scores were crap and her course grades were average at best. She’d only tried for the past two years because she had wanted to stay in classes with Mathilda.
“I know we’ll still be friends, Bestie,” she said, using the nickname from another era of their friendship. “But it makes me sad to think we won’t hang out as much. I can’t even imagine how much trouble you’re going to get in without me.”
Mathilda was only half teasing.
“Starting now.” Sarah stepped on the gas to pass the truck she’d been following, in a new hurry to get to Tennessee and hit the reset button on her life that had gone off the rails. “If Dad yells at me for making this trip, I’m going to tell him I’m dropping out of school.”
Her friend gasped. “You wouldn’t.”
Sarah pulled back in the right-hand lane and locked in a cruising speed faster than she’d been driving before.
“School has been a waste of my time for two years straight. I absolutely would.” Besides, she was scared of returning to Miami, where a letter had found its way into her mailbox from the man she hated most in the world.
She shuddered and hoped her dad would make everything okay again.
“Be careful,” Mathilda whispered into the phone. “I mean it.”
Sarah downed the last of the energy drink just as she crossed the Tennessee state line, wondering how it would taste with vodka. Not while driving, obviously. But later, maybe.
She needed something to forget about that letter burning a hole in her purse, and running for hours hadn’t come close to making her forget.
“Will do,” Sarah lied just before she disconnected the call and turned up the radio again.
This time, she had no intention of being careful.
* * *
“EVENTUALLY, I WANT to do caramel with ombré highlights.” Erin pointed to a picture in a magazine while her favorite stylist, Trish, worked on her hair at The Strand salon the next morning.
The salon opened early on Tuesdays, making it easy for her to change her hair color before she needed to be at Last Chance Vintage. She wasn’t the only one who appreciated the extended hours. Daisy Spencer—soon to be her brother Mack’s