TWENTY-FOUR
SOPHIA
An old married couple? I think my heart just exploded. Or my mind had exploded. One of the two, because I was entirely unable to move or even chew the glob of burger resting on my tongue.
“We’ll be old someday, Soph.” He laughed. “But in the meantime, let’s just make it through every day. Together, preferably.” Okay.
My chest was tightening, reacting nervously to his comment. Jameson did things to my soul that Oxford hadn’t developed language to describe. It was burning, possessively and warmly, but I was also frightened of the strength with which my heart beat for him, and for us.
I watched from my periphery, my head still nuzzled against his warm shoulder, while Jameson crumpled up some of our wrappers and sipped from his milkshake. I was finally able to resume chewing.
“It’s surprisingly peaceful out here. Isn’t it?”
I looked at the busy freeway, lined with hills of pines, wondering what Jameson meant.
“It’s just that nobody’s here,” he continued. “We have the car to ourselves with nothing in front of us but 231—the open road.”
“Where are we going?”
It was time to poke the elephant. Lifting my head from his shoulder, I tossed my burger wrapper and empty milkshake into the bag in his hands. Jameson was quick to toss it into the trashcan feet from the car before turning to face me. His left leg, bent at the knee, was tucked under him while the right dangled over the bumper.
“I need to just be entirely honest with you, Soph. There’s a lot more going on than we even know. First, we’re going to Memphis.”
“So there’s a destination? What’s there?”
Memphis? I wasn’t much of a country music fan. I had never heard Jameson speak of anywhere outside of Florida except Chicago and San Francisco, so what was in Memphis? Jameson’s fingers pressed through his hair, pulling the mess tightly in his fists before his palms slapped against his thighs.
“I called someone who can help us. I can’t tell you who, but just know that we can trust him. He’s getting us new passports. New identification. We’re…here we go again.” Jameson’s head hung. I watched his chest move with an irregular pattern, his head shaking with despondency.
“We’re not going to be Sophia Reid and Jameson Burke after this trip.”
“Well,” I swallowed, thinking of the finality of those words. “Were we anyway? Even without new names?”
“I guess not.” His smile returned for a brief moment before I felt the burn of his hazel eyes against my face. “You’re okay with that, Soph?”
“No. I really like Jameson Burke. He’s my boyfriend.”
I hadn’t said that out loud. Boyfriend.
Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend.
Jameson. He is my boyfriend and we’re running away. We’re like the nonviolent, non-bank-robbing, traumatized youth version of Bonnie and Clyde…wait…I robbed a safe.
I didn’t know how I could attach myself to another identity. I was gaping at Jameson, my heart flooding with memories of the tanned, scruffy-haired mystery who eluded my heart without me knowing I was in the chase.
“He is.” The mischievous grin from day one returned, sparkling its taunting beauty at me. “He’s not going anywhere. Just the Burke part. I don’t think I could handle another first name change. You’ll still be Soph to me no matter what. You know that?”
“Thank you.”
“You’re handling this better than I anticipated,” he sighed. “I just want to be sure you’re okay. I mean, you know I’ll be at your side if this causes a panic attack…I’m not going anywhere.”
“Tell me why we’re going. Please.”
He nodded, swallowing hard before continuing. The lost expression on his face warned my heart of nothing good, nothing positive was about to leave his lips and voyage into my mind. Except for the sound of his voice. The distant hum of freeway traffic filtered into the car while Jameson spoke, a sort of dull soundtrack to his imperative tone.
“When you left the Ritz,” he began, his voice shaking, “Elizabeth got a call from someone at the DOJ. I guess Thomas has been working with this person for a while, at least since he found out more about Simon and whatever files he showed him over Memorial Day.”
I felt my milkshake already dancing in my stomach, threatening to return to daylight. I hadn’t thought about Simon and Jules so far since running. I hadn’t thought about Thomas and Elizabeth. I had only thought about Jameson and me.
“Do you believe in fate, Soph?”
“What?” I studied the way his eyes glanced at me from the side, his face apprehensively turning from mine.
“Fate. Things coming together for a greater purpose. Do you believe in it?”
“Absolutely.”
He nodded, looking back at the freeway. “It seems that you and I are more connected than we thought, or knew.”
“Of course we are,” I scoffed. “This feeling, the way our souls explode when you barely touch my hand, or the way you’ve shattered my walls—our walls! That’s not casual, Jameson. That’s fate. Nobody has done it, but for you. Nobody could.”
My mind slipped back to the first night Jameson came into my room, the fire that poured between our skin when he touched me…
“You’re absolutely right.” He reached for my hand. “Since day one, I’ve told you that you’ve changed me. You’ve broken my walls, Soph. You’ve made me want to share secrets with you that I haven’t even learned. My body literally aches for you when we’re not together. I’m…”
“What?” Oh, god.
“I need to tell you something serious.”
I was biting my lip, almost to the point of blood, in suspense. What was he about to say…? My ribs were struggling, desperately, to contain my wildly beating heart.
“Go on…”
Jameson’s head rocked back for a moment before his gaze once again penetrated my core. “I’m just going to say it…shit…sorry…”
“Shit,” I mocked, growing frustrated. “Just say it!”
“You already know Simon’s brother was one of the lunatics who killed my mom and sister.”
My head shook, hoping to dismiss this reality, to dismiss this dreadful connection. “Did Simon know that? Does Jules know that?” Poor Jules.
“He knew. She might not. I don’t know what he’s told her about his life or his family. My guess is he hasn’t told her anything. Considering the fact he put a tracker in her niece’s cell phone…I’m guessing she is as oblivious as we were.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“There’s more, Soph.”
How could there be more? It was simple: Simon’s brother was a murderer. I couldn’t believe Simon would be in any way associated with criminals. He was so stale, so pasty and rich, but still so kind to me. Before I knew he was tracking my phone. Wait. Where do I fit into this?
“Jameson.” My fingers were beginning to shake, rattling the anxious pain along my arms while it fanned its evil grasp along my chest and up the length of my neck. He reached out for my right hand, clutching it with a painfully intense hold.
“What…how…” I couldn’t form a coherent thought. “Jame…wait…”
“Take a deep breath.” His hand squeezed around my sweating palm. “One…two…three…” My head shook and I pulled my hand from his, fanning it rapidly at my side.
“How do I fit into this, J-Jameson?” My throat was increasingly tight, words barely able to form. His brow met, trepidation fanning his handsome face, while he looked at me. Jameson seemed a mile away, distant and empty, while our knees touched.
“Simon’s brother was one of the people who killed my mom and sister,” he restated, as though it helped address reality. “He was one who got caught, so he went to jail.”
“Is he still in jail?”
“No. He was in a gang of thugs, drug-addicted murderers. One of their other poor excuses for a living entity killed him in jail.”
“Oh.”
I couldn’t imagine the pain this caused Jameson. His wounds were scabbed, picked open and rubbed until the irritation numbed his soul. He was raw to me, entirely exposed, having to relive memories that had been carefully stored in the past, waiting to come out through his nightmares and panic attacks. I wanted to reach over and hold him, but I felt paralyzed. My brain and body weren’t connecting; I could not move.
“But Simon is as messed up as they come,” he continued, brutally biting his bottom lip between thoughts. “He is stalking me because he thinks I am responsible for his brother’s death.”
“No.”
“Yes.” He nodded, his lip returning to the piercing position between his white teeth. “Your aunt is dating a psychopath. She let a damn psycho into your life and, no offense, Soph, but I could kill her for it.”
“She doesn’t know,” the words whispered from my lips as my eyes pulled away from Jameson, resuming their unfocused gaze at the freeway.
It was silent, but for the distant hum of traffic, and the space between us was filling with an angry, resentful energy. I needed a knife to cut through it. I couldn’t explain it; it was jelly, oozing and thick, creating a barrier between us for no reason other than mutual hurt and confusion.
“I agree with you,” he muttered, “but she brought a mentally unstable person into your world and, Soph, the risk that places you in makes my mind numb.”
“Jameson,” I turned back to him, my words slicing through the barrier, “…I’m safe with you.”
I know I am. He won’t let anything happen to me. I studied the way his head hung, almost like he felt defeated or hopeless.
“I didn’t make the connection at first, Soph,” he mumbled. “You fit into this puzzle. Simon used your mom’s death as an excuse, or an opportunity, to work with the DOJ. He told them he wanted to help people who were starting over, you know, like both of us. That was his in. Jules’s poor sister was murdered and who better than to promote justice than Simon Bellini?”
“My mom.” My mom. My heart.
The thought of her death somehow being a trigger for Simon, an antecedent or horrible chance for him to take out some twisted revenge toward Jameson made my milkshake churn into spoiled milk within my stomach. I would kill before my mom’s memory was tarnished like that, and I was not a violent person. My mom. I had the urge to call Jules, to warn her, but…we ran away.
“Yeah.” Jameson’s scoff was oozing with resentment and anger. “Simon used your mom’s death as a way to get into the DOJ and do his research to find me. He had tried tracking Olivia first, before you even got here, hoping she and I would have dated so she would be his in with me.”
“You don’t date.”
My hand immediately flew to my mouth, angered with myself for allowing my mind to find any humor in this situation. It was just so unbelievable. I didn’t know which emotion was appropriate to show. I didn’t know which emotion I should feel; they were all beginning to dance within my ribcage.
“Precisely.” Jameson nodded, staring out at the freeway, mindlessly reaching for my hand. “Until you. But this isn’t dating. I don’t date. I’m with you, Soph. You know that, right?”
“Yes.” I nodded, climbing to my knees and scooting closer to him.
I reached for Jameson’s worried face, holding it steady within the shaking grasp of my palms while I turned his head toward mine. Jameson’s eyes were enormous, entirely wide, and calling to my soul with a desperate need of reassurance.
“I’m really sorry, Soph,” he said, hazel burning into me. “This all happened before you got to Florida…and when you got there, Simon’s pieces fell into place. He was using anyone he could to get to me and it just so happened the sweetest, most innocent, and precious way to get to me fell into his lap like a prize.”
“How could you keep this from me for so long?”
He shrugged. “I just needed to find the right time to tell you. I only found out when you left the Ritz. Thomas’s friend from the DOJ called and told him everything. And even after that, we don’t have enough to lock away Simon.”
“Then we continue to run,” I stated, swallowing the panic tickling into my chest.
I needed to be stronger than I ever had imagined, stronger than I knew my heart could be.
“This is beyond fate, Jameson,” I told him, rubbing my thumbs along the skin of his cheekbones. “You and I…it goes beyond that. But you said first we’re going to Memphis. What’s after Memphis?”
“How do you feel about British Columbia? We could find your mom’s friend. We could get set up there.”
“Canada? Like really running, no saying goodbye, or ever seeing Jules again…”
“No.” His head shook.
Jameson’s fingers slowly wrapped around my wrists, lowering my hands away from his face. His right hand lifted to my cheek, placing some stray hair behind my ear as he allowed me time to process his simple response.
“Not until Simon isn’t a threat, for you at least. I always have to run,” he whispered. “Witness protection has forced that upon me.”
He always has to run. Like me. It was what we did.
“Soph,” Jameson pulled me from my frozen fixation, my eyes finally able to return to his cautious stare. “Running gets easier the longer you do it. I promise you. Eventually, you just become the other person and make new memories with your new background story…it isn’t easy, I know that, and I’m not saying you need to forget Jules or your mom, or even Oregon, but the more distance and time placed between the old and new…it gets easier every day. We just have to wake up every morning, and be the wandering runaways that we are. As long as we’re together.”
“I don’t want to wake up.” I fell against his chest, feeling consumed by his arms wrapping around my body. “This is…this is so much. I don’t want to wake up, Jameson.”
“It’s worth waking up tomorrow.” His lips hung at my ear, burning my mind. “It is dark and scary and messed up, but our tomorrow will be worth it. I promise you that, Sophia.”