Page 35 of Dotted Lines (Runaway 5)

Those were her babies and there was no way for them to come to Vegas. They’d probably die before fall—never something I’d say aloud. But Lou wasn’t going to care for them.

The man only had so much to give, though what he’d given us had been enough.

“Bye.” She waved, then headed out, hooking the pack’s straps on her shoulders as she walked.

“Turkey if you bring home a sandwich,” I called to her back.

She lifted a hand with a thumb up.

Two days, then there’d be no more scrap sandwiches. Well, after we got on our feet.

Aria and I weren’t delusional about what waited for us at the end of our countdown. The days were likely to get harder for a while as we started a new life. Without jobs or a home, I imagined we’d be spending a week or two in a sleezy motel with bedbugs and cockroaches.

But that was what we’d been saving for. We had enough money to afford a cheap room while we got an apartment lined up. Neither of us wanted to be living on the streets, especially in Las Vegas.

The sudden urge to count our savings stash came over me, and I hurried to my bed, taking it out and separating the cash into piles.

Two thousand three hundred and fifty dollars. Exactly what had been there the last time Aria and I had counted it out. Nearly three years of peanut butter and honey sandwiches, eating whatever our respective restaurants would give us and spending next to nothing, all so we could have a decent shot at a future.

Please, let it be enough.

I returned the money to the bag and stowed it in its hiding place. My stomach growled, driving me to the foodstuffs. Bent over the supplies, I was debating my limited options when Karson knocked on the truck. “Hey.”

“Hi.” I blushed.

He held up two rolled tortillas, probably with peanut butter and banana inside. That was a staple breakfast around here. “Since you brought me dinner.”

“Thanks.”

He hopped into the truck, handing one of the rollups over, then we sat down and ate.

Meals here were without fanfare and took only moments. I wished there was more to do because by the time I’d chewed the last bite, I still didn’t know what to say.

“Where’s Aria?” he asked.

“Work. She left.” Probably while he’d been in the shower. The strands of his dark hair were damp and finger combed.

“She should have waited.”

“She’ll be fine.” I waved it off. “Why would your mom want anything to do with us?”

“Who knows?” He frowned. “But she’s fucking crazy, so . . .”

I waited for more, but he let that sentence hang, and with it my hopes that he’d tell me about his past. I’d confided in him. Would he ever trust me with his story?

“I need to head in and grab my paycheck. Cash it at the bank. Want to come?” he asked.

“Sure. But I’d better water Aria’s plants first.”

“’Kay.” He stood up. “I’ll help.”

Thirty minutes later, after working and most definitely not talking about the kiss, Karson and I were on the road to town.

“Want a coffee or something?” he asked. “My treat. I’m definitely getting one because my head goddamn hurts. Fucking beer.”

I giggled. “Should have stuck to two, like me.”

“How are you feeling?”