Left On The Highway: Too Late, Ex-Lover

ke's

the booth, Easton clampe

, his fingers digging

t toward the glass exit doors. "You're always the reasonable one. We've be

ve me a chan

ing noon heat and dragged m

k seat; Kenzie sat comfortably up front, adjusting t

ed open th

very wants to stretch out on the left, a

quare inch of sp

stic shopping bags, empty coffee c

staring at the cramped space. "The co

said, sliding into the driver's seat. "

-but stranded on a scenic highway in th

my teeth,

the floor, the raw blister tore op

of my cheek and s

lf into the nar

, my shoulders crushed between Avery's bulky frame and th

ne, shifted into gear,

d over and pressed the adjustment b

the way back, the headrest sla

?" Easton asked softly, undis

nzie sighed, closing her eyes.

ic frame dug brutally

my leg," I said from the back.

e, eyes opening, brow

I can sit up straight-my mig

ses. "You need your rest. Brooke, stop whining. Just angle

cooler on my righ

condition is a real diagnosis. You walked a few miles-b

flattened fast-food bag, grease

ck against the headre

scenic road, lurching vio

-hot spike of pain up t

through with blood, g

es crawled i

ngth; back here, crammed in the middl

ward angle against the rigid co

t my shoe snagged on a strap d

ated from my heels all t

e car said a

ussed at length which hiking

which craft-beer bar near

-or let out the faintest si

want so

turn the m

in the door pocket i

e asked if I

d my ankle stiff in midair, a

pulled into a crowded viewpoin

roup photo," he announ

ors fl

rst, raising his ar

gs across the floor and lowere

vel, the crusted skin on my he

back, a sharp hiss of

of the car door to

down at

th heels had turned a

hrough the fabric, dripp

erate for Easton

big black umbrella over Kenzie's head, terrified th

, dutifully carrying her desig

e a royal honor guard, escorting

e looked at Easton and

old lady murmured to her husband.

idn't co

and guided Kenzie towa

r door, my hand pressed agai

bled toward the

s a long, exq

ehind the four of them, drag

t, Easton g

e my blood-s

ee my paper

ently, waving. "The light's changing

out his pho

n eighty-year-old to

ped wa

ned up against the rough timber

's shoulders, tucking her comfo

her right, bea

rom the left, fla

in that frame. There ha