Page 31 of Runaway Road (Runaway 1)

My heart plummeted. Ouch. “That’s okay.”

A tense silence stretched between us. Brooks didn’t offer any explanation as to why he couldn’t meet me tomorrow. I sat perfectly still, unsure what to say. Maybe he had to work late. Maybe he didn’t like eating at restaurants. Maybe he had a date. If that was the reason, I didn’t want to know.

Without dinner tomorrow, this was the last time I’d spend with Brooks. I’d see him at the shop tomorrow morning when I collected my car, but it would be a brief farewell before I left Summers and Brooks Cohen behind for good.

My stomach clenched. It had to be the sandwich, not the idea of leaving. I’d simply eaten too much.

Time to go. The urge to leave hit hard, shoving me to my feet. Staying until dark wasn’t going to happen tonight. I didn’t have a wish to make. “I’d better get going. I need to pack.”

“Londyn.” Brooks stood, blocking the way off the rock. “Don’t. Not yet.”

“I think it’s for the best.” I met his blue gaze and my resolve to walk away broke. There was so much apology in those eyes. So much longing.

“I—” Without finishing, he closed his mouth and shifted, making room for me to walk past.

We both knew it was better to end this before things got complicated.

It wasn’t like I didn’t have some memories to take along. I’d look back on my time in Summers and remember this handsome man who’d been my dinner date three nights in a row. I’d remember this rock and how I preferred it to any table. I’d remember that almost kiss.

“Thank you,” I said as he joined me on the grass. “It was lovely to know you, Brooks.”

“Likewise, Londyn.” He held out his hand and I slipped mine into his grip.

Neither of us let go.

He tightened his hold, pulling me closer. His gaze dropped to my lips and my breath hitched. Was he going to kiss me after all? It would certainly ease the sting of rejection. He leaned closer. My eyes drifted closed.

A whisper of a breath floated across my cheek as his mouth came down and he planted a kiss.

On. My. Cheek.

Disappointment flamed it red. My pride turned black and blue and I pulled my hand free of his grasp. “Good night, Brooks.”

He took a step back. “Night, Londyn.”

Then I spun around and marched for my motel room.

Time to get the hell out of Summers, West Virginia.

And far away from Brooks Cohen.

Clank.

I jumped at the noise as it echoed from the garage. I stalled outside the door, not sure if I should get any closer. Was that normal garage noise? Because it sounded really loud. When nothing followed, I took another step.

Clank. Thud. Clank.

I jumped again, gasping at the bangs and clashes that came in a steady stream.

“Goddamn it!” Brooks roared.

Then came another crash. This one sounded like metal hitting metal, followed by the clink and clatter of tools hitting the concrete floor.

“Fuck!”

Uh . . . What the hell was going on? Was he hurt? I stepped forward, not sure what to expect, and peered around the door.

Brooks was pacing beside my car, his fists clenched in fury and his chest heaving.