Page 2 of Wild Highway (Runaway 2)

“Are you serious? You’re driving from West Virginia to California? Alone?”

“Yes, yes and yes.” I held my breath as the line went silent.

“You really have lost your goddamn mind.”

I laughed. “You’re not wrong.”

“Gemma, what is going on with you?” The concern in his voice tugged at my heart. “Is this a you-turned-thirty-this-year crisis? Should I call Dr. Brewer?”

“No.” I didn’t need my therapist getting involved. Dr. Brewer would dredge up the past, and my childhood was the last thing I wanted to discuss at the moment. “It was just time for a change.”

“A change? This is not a change. This is a nuclear explosion. You sold the company. Your baby. Gemma Lane was your life. You were there from five in the morning until eight at night every single day. Now it’s gone.”

I nodded, waiting for him to continue. This wasn’t the first time he’d reminded me of exactly what I’d done. Yet, I still didn’t feel like I’d made a huge mistake.

“Two weeks ago, you handed me an entirely new list of job duties, including managing all your assets and capital ventures while you disappeared to West Virginia. Now you’re driving to California? This isn’t you.”

“But it used to be,” I said.

I used to be impulsive and adventurous. Money and success were to blame for the caution that had invaded my life. A month ago, I’d had hundreds of employees counting on me to make the right decisio

ns. They’d needed me to take care with my actions to ensure they had jobs. In worrying about them—for hours, days, years—I’d lost myself.

Now those employees would be working for Procter & Gamble. It had been part of my agreement that every one of my employees had future employment. Except for Benjamin. He’d always worked for me personally.

“I need this,” I confessed. “I used to be fun. I used to be daring and reckless. You wouldn’t even recognize that version of me.”

Benjamin had only known the Gemma consumed by work. He didn’t recognize me without the meetings, conference calls and galas. He didn’t see that the charity balls I used to love—the ones where I’d smile as I sipped champagne because Boston’s elite had let a lowly, runaway kid into their midst—were now suffocating and dull.

“Where is this coming from?” Benjamin asked. “I’m not buying this ‘I needed a change’ explanation. Something happened and you haven’t told me.”

Yes, something had happened, and I hadn’t told anyone, not even Londyn. “Remember Jason Jensen?”

“The guy who used to work in marketing?”

“Yes. He asked me to marry him.”

“What?” he shouted, the volume making me wince. “When? How long were you dating? How did I not know about this?”

“We dated for a few months. Obviously, we didn’t tell anyone because I was his boss’s boss. We agreed to keep it quiet, and I didn’t think we were serious. But then one night about a month ago, he took me to this fancy restaurant, got down on one knee and proposed.”

“Oh, Gemma. I’m sorry.” As always, Benjamin jumped to the end of my story.

“Don’t pity me. Pity Jason. He was sweet and handsome and kind. But I just . . . I couldn’t say yes. I didn’t love him.”

So in a restaurant full of people watching, I’d broken a good man’s heart.

“That’s why he quit,” Benjamin said.

“Yeah.”

The day Jason had left, I’d sat in my office alone, giving him space to pack his things and say goodbye to his coworkers. I’d stared out my wall of windows and wished I’d loved him.

He was gracious and caring. Jason hadn’t hated me for turning him down, he just couldn’t work for me any longer. I didn’t fault him for that. He’d loved unselfishly, not complaining that I’d been in the spotlight.

And I’d felt nothing but guilt.

“He just wasn’t the right guy,” Benjamin said. “That doesn’t mean you had to sell your company, your car and your brownstone. You gave up your life.”