Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
He left the living room and returned a few minutes later with keys, a tent, and two rolled up sleeping bags in his hands. He handed them over to Devon.
“Just in case. That way you won’t have to freeze if you decide to sleep on the truck bed.”
“Why don’t you stay for lunch? You could even spend the afternoon here to relax a bit,” Aunt Celia said, entering the living room, looking more composed than before.
I could tell from the look on Devon’s face that he would have loved to take her up on her offer, but of course we couldn’t risk spending more than a couple of hours in the same place. Not to mention a relative’s house, which was where they’d look first.
“Thank you so much for the offer, Aunt Celia, but we really have to hurry. We’re meeting up with friends of Tessa’s in Chicago, and we’re on a tight schedule,” he lied.
“Why don’t we—” Uncle Scott began but the ringing of a phone cut him off. He excused himself and headed into the kitchen to get the phone. When he returned, he was talking loudly, his brows furrowed. “No, Linda, calm down.”
At the mention of Devon’s mother, my body flooded with anxiety. Devon rose from the sofa, dropped the sleeping bags and took a step toward his uncle. “They’re here with us. No reason to worry. I can give you Devon right now.” Uncle Scott handed the phone to Devon who lifted it to his ear after a moment of hesitation.
I shifted to the edge of the couch. This wasn’t good. Devon’s face fell. “Mom, I’m fine. Mom, please stop crying. Nothing has happened.” He lowered his voice for his next words. “Mom, are they still there?” He paled as he nodded. “Okay, Mom. Please trust me. Everything will be fine. I can’t talk much longer. But I’ll call you soon. Don’t listen to them, Mom, they’re making a big deal out of nothing. Trust me.” He dropped the phone on the table, his worried eyes settling on me.
“Major and Summers are there.”
“They told my parents that we’d run away and that I wasn’t stable. Why the fuck would they tell my parents something like that after what they’ve gone through in the last few weeks?”
He smashed his fist down on the table. His glass toppled over and tea spilled everywhere. Aunt Celia winced, her hands frozen on her cup as she watched us with wide eyes.
“I’m sorry. They want to make you feel guilty and bait you to come back,” I said softly. “And now Major knows we’re here. They’ll send the closest agent to come get us. We have to leave immediately.”
“So you are in trouble,” Uncle Scott said slowly.
Devon stared at his uncle as if he had only just remembered that we weren’t alone. “It’s complicated. But we aren’t in any trouble. We just need some time off. Everything is going to be fine.”
Devon and I stood up, picked up the sleeping bags and tent, swiped the keys from the table, and hurried out the door. Confusion showed on Uncle Scott’s and Aunt Celia’s faces as they followed us outside.
“Where are you going? What’s going on?” Celia asked anxiously, but nobody said anything.
“What am I supposed to tell your parents? They’re worried about you,” Uncle Scott called after us.
Devon stopped in front of the black pickup truck, casting nervous glances back at his aunt and uncle. “I’m sorry for causing you trouble,” he whispered. “But I promise we’ll be fine.”
I stood with my hands in my pockets, unsure what to do. I could tell that his aunt and uncle kept glancing at me like I was the one who’d led Devon astray. And it was kind of true. Without me, Devon would be living in headquarters, safe and sound, still blissfully unaware of the lies being spewed by Major and the FEA.
“Thanks for your help and for the iced tea,” I said before I slipped into the passenger seat. The inside of the car smelled of old smoke and wet dog, though I hadn’t seen a dog inside the house.
Devon slipped into the car and started the engine. He waved at his uncle and aunt as we pulled out of their driveway. They were watching us with stunned expressions. How long would it take for the FEA to come here and question them?
“Damnit!” Devon yelled, slamming his fist down on the steering wheel. As soon as we were out of his relatives’ line of sight, he stepped on the gas and we sped down the bumpy road.
Devon’s knuckles were white from his grip around the steering wheel. “Do you think the FEA will do something to my parents?” he asked.
I shook my head immediately. “No,” I said firmly.
Devon glanced at me from the corner of his eye like he needed more evidence to believe it.