“Hi, I hope this is Katie Taylor—” No one has called me Katie since I was a child. Which suddenly gets me thinking. “My mother, Jessica Grant, gave me your number. She said that according to your mother, you offered to drive me out to Seattle. I have no idea if my mother was fucking with me or not—she can be a bitch like that—but if she wasn’t, please give me a ring back. If she was, then I’m sorry to have bother you. Later.”
And then he hangs up, and I have to just laugh at that.
This guy actually called his mother a bitch. Who says that on a voice message to a complete stranger? Then there’s the fact that he wants me to call him back if I’m willing to drive him. That means he’s interested in riding with me.
I don’t exactly know what to do with that.
I was sorta banking on him not being into it.
The way I see it, I have two choices.
Choice one: Call this guy back, offer him a ride, and give it a shot.
Choice two: Don’t call him back and deal with my mother incessantly calling me all the time—which she will.
My fingers drag up to the pendant resting flat against my sternum. I really don’t have a choice, do I? I’ll go insane with my mother calling me, and maybe I can just drop this guy off in Seattle and then be off on my own way. Or maybe I’ll make him crazy after a day and he’ll run for the hills.
Crap.
I hit his number before I can talk myself out of it, and the phone rings exactly three times before his voice fills my ear. “Katie,” he says like we’re old friends.
“Yeah, um. Is this Ryan?”
He chuckles softly into the phone. “Obviously it is, since you called me and I picked up using your name.”
“Right.” I close my eyes feeling just a little stupid and annoyed. So not digging the sarcasm. “And it’s just Kate. I haven’t been Katie since I was a child.”
“Sure. So was my mother fucking with me or what?”
“Can I ask you something?” I throw my arm over my eyes because this has to be the oddest conversation of my life, and we’re only a minute into it.
“Shoot.” His tone is light and casual.
“Is driving across the country with a complete stranger something you’re actually interested in doing?”
Another chuckle rumbles through the phone. “You’re not a stranger, Katie. We met once before. I was ten, and you were six.”
I sigh. “It’s Kate, and I realize that, according to my mother, we’ve met before, but that was twenty-one years ago, and I have no memory of you.”
“Well, I remember you, so to me that doesn’t make you a stranger.”
Okay, we’re going around in circles here. This guy is already pissing me off; no way I could tolerate being in a car with him for several days on end.
“Is that your way of saying yes?”
“Sure,” he says this like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Why the hell not? Beats the shit out of renting a car and going solo.”
“But you don’t even know me,” I’m practically pleading now. Why am I the only one who thinks that this idea is insanity?
“My mother told me a little about you, but she got that from your mother, so I’m going to reserve judgment since my mother is batshit crazy, and I’m assuming yours is as well.” I have no response for that. “Listen. I don’t have to be in Seattle for another four weeks. I’m up for a road trip if you are. Come to Philadelphia and meet me. If you can’t stand me, then no hard feelings and we’ll go our own way. Sound like a plan?”
I sigh. He makes some sense.
“I can do that. Text me your address, and I’ll be there in three days.”
“Awesome. Later.” He hangs up, and I toss my phone on the bed beside me, wondering what the hell just happened.
2
Kate
* * *
I have no recollection of ever stepping foot in this city, though according to my mother and Ryan, I was here when I was six. Great. That means nothing to me.
Ryan texted me his address two days ago and said he was up for an adventure. Adventure wasn’t really part of my plan. This was more about escape, followed by trying to find a place that seemed like a good fit where people won’t stare at me like I am some horrifying creature.
So I’m sitting in my hotel room, chomping my nails to the quick as I debate whether or not I’m going to drive to his house or just go on my own.
All you have to do is meet him, Kate.
Right. That’s not exactly helping.
The idea of traveling across the country and having to share my time with another human isn’t appealing.
I need this time. I need this space, and I don’t want to answer or have to listen to another’s opinions on shit.
And he seems like the type of guy who has opinions.
I look over at the clock on the bedside table. 8:47. I’m supposed to be there at nine. I need to leave now if I’m not going to be late. I hate being late, even for strangers that I don’t want to meet. A frustrated crazed huff leaves my mouth before I grab the suitcase I brought up and head out the door.
I’m pulling up in front of a moderately sized house in a decent neighborhood exactly twelve minutes later, but I sit in the car just staring at the house for another five. Finally, the front door opens, and a woman with very dark brown hair stands there and stares at me.
Shit.
I’m creeping people out, and the last thing I want is for someone to call the cops on me for sitting in my car.
The door shuts behind me with a quiet click, and I find myself trying to smile for this woman who is practically beaming at me like we’re long-lost friends.
Her dark, almost black hair is cut very short and styled perfectly. Not even the strong wind is able to blow a hair out of place. As I get closer, I see her eyes are an intensely bright, vivid jade. They’re stunning, and she’s an exceedingly attractive woman, but her face rings zero bells in my head.
“Hello,” she coos, her arms outstretched like I should embrace her. I do, but awkwardly and with as much distance between us as I can manage.
She’s the opposite of my mother it’s not even funny. How these two are friends, I’ll never know.
“I’m Jessica Grant,” she says, holding me at arms-length and examining me up and down. “My god,” she shakes her head, her hair unmoving. “You’re just darling.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
“You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman.” Her smile drops into a knowing frown, and I don’t want to hear the next words that I know are coming out of her mouth. “It’s such a shame about your family,” she says with no remorse in her voice. She may as well have been lamenting about the weather. I don’t respond. Anything I say will not be polite, and I’m not usually in the habit of being a bitch to elderly strangers.
“Mom. Back off.” A male voice startles our little moment, causing my eyes to flash over to the front porch. A guy who can only be this woman’s son is standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, and an annoyed expression marring his face.
He’s tall. Like giant tall. Well over six feet. His hair is as dark as his mother’s, and sort of all over the place in a way that says he just rolled out of bed and didn’t bother to brush it into submission. His eyes are also the same jade green, but his are encased in dark-framed glasses. A moderately thick beard lines his jaw, but not in an unkempt way.