“It’s just the tire,” she says. “It blew.”
As she pulls away slowly, I feel the insufferable need to be held once again. My father isn’t one for coddling and, though he didn’t fight my mother’s way of caring for us, it was obvious that it displeased him. I learned early on that she was two different people—one when he was around, and one when he wasn’t. She was so good at hiding things from him that I sometimes wonder if I really knew her at all or if she was another way when I wasn’t around, too.
But I can’t think of that now, or the desperation chewing at my stomach to have Ruby’s comfort again. I raise my head and firmly plant my hands on the floor of the van. My humiliation over my reaction to a flat tire only worsens when I realize the side door of the van is open and Ryan and Jim are standing shoulder to shoulder, watching me. Ruby rubs my back and says, “Ignore them.”
“Go on, it’s not like none of you’ve ever seen a girl cry before,” Ruby says. Ryan’s eyes leave me, focusing on Ruby. A smirk finds its way to his lips. Jim guffaws loudly.
“With you around? Come on, Ma, when’s the last time you cried?” With Ryan’s words, the men focus on him and Ruby, leaving me to my embarrassment. It takes her a moment as her face pales. It’s a sore subject, it seems. Her eyes dart to mine and then back to Ryan. His smile drops some, and she clears her throat.
Then she composes herself, the smart shell back on, saying, “The day I realized I was stuck with you.” They smile at one another broadly. Jim shakes his head and turns around, his dark hair whipping at his jaw.
“Ignore her,” Ryan says. “I kick ass.” His eyes are back on mine, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. I let out an embarrassed laugh, trying to stave off the irritation I feel at my own reaction. Of course it was a blown tire and not a mob hit. What a silly thing to consider. Here, in the never-ending farmland, with nobody and nothing within fifty miles of us. No, that’s not how my father works. He’s typically a little more orderly than that.
“Damn girl, don’t be embarrassed over that,” Duke says with a dramatic roll of the eyes. “You gotta learn to handle yourself better than that if you want to hang around here.” He’s teasing me, giving me an opening to make light of the situation—exactly, I’m guessing, what one of them would do.
“Sorry about that, I’m new to this being on-the-run thing. I could use some pointers. Got any?” The crowd—which now consists of the entire group—breaks out into rowdy laughter. Duke gives me a smile, an actual, genuine smile. I smirk, knowing I’ve gained his approval for the time being. Ryan’s eyes light up as he sticks out his hand in offering. I look down at his dry and cracked hand, palm up, and then back at him. He gives me a small nod and I reach out, happy to make contact with him.
Ryan’s grip on my hand is tight, his skin warm. I never realize how cold my body runs until I touch another person. It’s unfortunate how little physical contact I’ve had with others that even the smallest touch matters to me. With a slight tug, he has me crawling out of the van and stepping into the low grass on the side of the road. Once I’m steady on my feet, he releases me, but keeps his body close to mine. Feeling brave for just a moment, I let my hand graze his. He hooks his pinky around mine, then lets go. I shudder involuntarily. He gives no reaction, leaving me to wonder how much another’s touch means to him. Is it inconsequential, even innocent as it was, or is it routine for him? I allow that thought to take precedence over the sight of the blown front tire of the van, the damaged cornstalks, and the disgruntled bikers. Because in that moment the only thing that matters is Ryan and the way his pinky felt wrapped around mine. As stupid as it sounds, it matters to me.
A strong elbow nudges my upper arm, bringing my attention back to reality. Looking up, I see it’s Ryan. “Huh?” I ask.
“I asked if you’ve ever ridden on a motorcycle.”
I think back, realizing I have. “My brother got a BMW for his birthday last year.”
Ryan chortles. “How far did you go?”
“Um, around the parking lot,” I say. “My father wouldn’t let him take me anywhere on it. He said it was too dangerous for me.” Ryan shakes his head, looking at the men around him.
“Well, today’s your lucky day. You’re a sitting duck here with the van. You get to ride with me.”
“I get to ride on your—” I sputter off then stop. Already, I have more freedom here with these people than I ever had with my father.
He leans in close and whispers, “Careful, little girl. You don’t want to go there.”
Ryan’s answering wink is enough to do me under, but it’s the words that spill out of his mouth that send shivers down my spine. Maybe I don’t want to be careful. And maybe I do want to go there.