Page 10 of Will to Run

After climbing the three steps, she looks back at me, “This is, I mean, Jaxon, this is not a humble abode; it’s insane. I don’t know if I can cover the cost right now.”

“It’s not costing anything. These aren’t being rented at the moment. Besides, only a jerk would offer you a place to stay and then shake you down for payment. I think that’s more Chicago-mob behavior, no?” I ask as I open the door to her cabin.

She laughs, but it stops as soon as she steps inside the threshold. Our luxury cabins are just that. They’re thousand-foot A-frames that embody rustic chic, and their impressiveness is evident as soon as you walk in. They have open floor plans, so people see the kitchen, living area, three-season room, and cozy nook before their eyes are drawn to the bedroom door and the stairs leading to two more bedrooms.

“Wow,” she says, looking around.

“These are pretty nice,” I admit.

“Pretty nice? Um, these are beyond.”

“Do you want a tour?”

“You don’t have to, I can do it myself. I’ve already taken up so much of your time today,” she replies.

I try to decipher if that’s a polite way of dismissing me, or if she is feeling like she’s been too much. But I’d much rather stay.

“I have nowhere I have to be,” I say, testing the waters. “In fact, if I know Hazel, she probably put a bottle of something to drink in the fridge, so I might be crashing your party of one. I’ll go grab the other things from your car if you want to check.”

Stepping back into the night air, I walk to her car to gather the remainder of her things. As I sling a backpack over my shoulder, a wedding program falls out of it, and I can’t help but pick it up. There was clearly no expense spared on this event, so one of them has some money. Although Hazel handles the weddings, I have some basic knowledge of what things cost, and this bad boy has some gold foiling, embossing, and color ink. Plus, it’s multiple pages. The front is your typical join in the union of bullshit, then I notice the name: Della Elizabeth Tatroe. That’s why she initially introduced herself as Elizabeth when we first met. Maybe that was her way of starting completely over. But marrying a Tripp Worthington? Oof. The guy already sounds like a douchebag.

Opening to the first spread, there’s the usual order of events, but after that, there’s a page of the bride and groom, in color. In every photo, she’s more gorgeous than the last, and I wonder how this guy was banging his groomsman and another chick when she looks like this. I don’t think any woman could be prettier than her.

I can’t stop looking at a particular photo of them from some swanky event. He’s in a tux, and she’s in a dress that I bet was made for her. Anyone who saw this would think they were a perfect power couple. But her smile? It doesn’t reach her eyes. They’re missing the sparkle they had when my niece showed off her ratty teddy bear. Even if I knew nothing up to this point, I’d question the union based on how she looks when she’s standing next to him.

In fact, as I page through the rest of the pamphlet, in each photo she is in with a friend, she’s beaming. But with him, she just looks… flat. Gorgeous, but flat. Tripp’s wedding party looks about as douchey as he does. I find the best man, and he is wearing a gaudy belt with a cigar hanging from his lips. He looks like a headache. I can’t imagine her walking in to catch him screwing this guy.

Flipping to the back, what I see tugs at my heartstrings even more. It’s a memorial page for her mother. Based on the dates, a quick calculation suggests her mother was forty-six when she passed. That was five years ago. Shit, I don’t know her age now, but I can’t imagine she’s over twenty-five. I wonder what happened? Below the quote, there’s a photo of her with her parents, and Della is the spitting image of her mother.

Before I can turn to the next page, she opens the door, and I drop the pamphlet like it’s on fire.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, sorry. Some things fell out of the bag, though I can’t say I’m surprised,” I laugh nervously, joking with her to cover my snooping.

“I’m never going to live that down, huh?” she asks.

“No. The next seventy-two hours are going to be brutal for that, Tatroe.” Although she said she is going to leave tomorrow, that’d be dumb to pack and unpack. My sister could convince her to just ride out the storm here.

I take one more look at the photo before I close the trunk and head inside, more curious about this woman than I was five minutes ago.

7

DELLA

I’m not sure what happens in the afterlife, but I’m confident my mother had a hand in leading me to the mechanic shop of Jaxon Wills. I’m unsure why he has a garage like this when he has an insane ranch, but I do know that I am eternally grateful to him right now. I would have tried the mountain pass, and I think there’s a possibility I would have met my maker.

He’s taking longer than I thought he would, because I’ve had time to change into a tank top and throw a cozy zip-up on over it. Leaving my yoga pants on because he’s appreciated them, I take my hair down, shaking my head out so it can breathe again. The hairpin in my hand makes my stomach drop. With its plethora of authentic diamonds, it’s a beautiful piece that Tripp gave me as a gift. Lord knows how much it cost, but it means absolutely nothing. When he gave it to me, he told me how people would be jealous of it—no mention of how pretty it would look on me, just that people would be envious. Shaking my head, I place it on the counter and move to the door to see what’s taking so long. I hope some freaking creature didn’t come and eat Jaxon.

When I open it, I see him gathering things. Shit, more stuff must have spilled out. After I call to him, he jokes with me and makes his way up the steps, but stops in the doorway I’m holding open.

“Your hair,” he states.

“My hair,” I reply, not knowing exactly what that’s supposed to mean. “Though surprising, a wedding up-do isn’t my usual go-to. Certainly not for eight-hour road trips,” I laugh.

“Your hair is beautiful, Della.”

The compliment makes me blush. When’s the last time someone complimented me? Besides Quinn.