Chapter Eleven
Jethro
We got back on the road in the late afternoon. Not knowing how far the authorities had tracked us, we switched up our mode of transport.
When Miles saw the bike, he balked at first.
“Never ridden a motorcycle before?” I asked him.
“No. Father said it wasn’t appropriate for an Omega. My brother has one.”
“Let me guess, he’s an Alpha.”
Miles nodded.
“We get all the fun,” Blaise said, handing me the keys. “Cam says everything is ready for you. All you have to do is get there.”
Cam was an old friend, someone I trusted with my life. That he’d drop everything to help us didn’t surprise me.
“Great, thanks,” I said, securing my helmet.
Heath and Sophie came out to say goodbye. I was glad we were parting on good terms but I could see they were relieved we were leaving.
I climbed onto the bike and turned on the ignition while Miles fumbled with the helmet we’d borrowed from Heath. Then he climbed on behind me.
“You’ll need to hold on tight,” Blaise was telling him. “You can grip the seat if you want but you’re going to be on some rough terrain so the safest bet would be to wrap your arms around Jethro’s waist.”
I was glad it was Blaise issuing the instructions and not me. I wouldn’t want Miles to think I was trying to push physical contact between us. But his arms encircled my waist readily enough.
“Good, hold on tight to him and don’t make any sudden moves that might knock the bike off balance.”
“I won’t,” Miles promised.
“See you on the other side,” I called to them, as I put the bike into gear and we took off.
Miles clung tighter to me as we left the driveway and turned onto the road, picking up speed. A moment later, I felt his face press against my back.
“Are you doing okay back there?” I called.
“Doing okay,” he shouted back.
We had a long road ahead of us, literally and figuratively, but at least we were on our way.
There was a warmth to the summer sun beating down on us that tried its best to counteract the chill from the air around us. I hoped I was buffering Miles from the worst of it as we rode.
We pulled off the road in the early evening onto a little-used track, but one I was intimately familiar with. Some of the tension in me eased at that. We were off-road and out of sight again. We hadn’t been stopped or come across any checkpoints or anything to suggest they were narrowing in on our position.
The cabin came into view up ahead and I slowed us down, braking to a complete stop outside. There was evidence someone had been here recently but that was Cam or one of his friends, dropping off the supplies for us. I waited for Miles to climb off before I dismounted.
“The bike stays here,” I explained, wheeling it toward the shed. “But we won’t. It’s too exposed, too close to civilization. We need to go deeper, get lost for a bit.”
“How far?” Miles asked, peering through the trees into the distance.
“The place I’m thinking of is a day and a half’s hike if you know the terrain like I do.”
“And if you don’t know the terrain?”
“Three days minimum to get to where we’re going.” Either way, we were putting some distance between us and the authorities.
The key for the cabin was buried shallowly in the earth just under the porch step. I unearthed it, opened the door, and ducked inside. There were two backpacks lined up against the wall, and a note pinned to one of them.
‘Good luck!’
Crumpling the note, I stuck it in my pocket and knelt to do a quick check of the contents of the backpacks, intent on taking out anything unnecessary. Extra weight would only slow us down.
There was a creak behind me as Miles stepped inside.
“The bathroom is down the hall and to the left if you want to use it,” I offered.
He disappeared into the bathroom while I went through the second bag. Cameron had kept the contents down to almost the bare necessities. I pulled out one or two things I was confident we could get by without, then redistributed some of the weight so the heaviest pack by far would be the one I’d carry.
Miles reappeared, wiping his hands on his pants, just as I had finished and got to my feet.
“Ready?” I asked him.
He nodded and stepped forward as I held out the lighter pack. Once he had it on his shoulders, I helped tighten the straps to make it more comfortable.
“It’s not too heavy, is it?”
“No.”
I grabbed my own pack and led us out, locking the door behind me and returning the key to its hiding place.
“Okay, let’s go.”
Miles was a very quiet hiking companion. I was used to Blaise, Wyatt, and others telling stories and jokes to pass the time. The few times I tried to engage Miles in conversation it fizzled out after a sentence or two. How would we make a connection and form a bond if we couldn’t even hold a conversation?
It began to grow dark, but I kept us moving. We needed to create as much distance between us and civilization as possible. It was the night before a full moon and, with a cloudless sky, we had enough light to see by. But Miles was tiring and starting to lag behind.
I turned back to him. “Here, why don’t you walk in front of me.” That way he could set the pace and I’d be right there behind him if he stumbled.
But when I reached out to move him in front of me, he backpedaled, slamming into a tree.
He froze and so did I, both watching each other.
“Are you hurt?”
He shook his head.
“Good. Here, take my hand.” I held it out and waited.
Just when I began to think he wasn’t going to move, he did, placing his hand in mine and letting me tug him in front of me. I settled my hands gently on his shoulders, so he could feel their weight, their strength, before letting him go.
“I’ve got your back,” I said.
He glanced back at me over his shoulder.
“I’m not going to hurt you, you have my word on that. But I can and will protect you, for as long as you allow me.” And probably longer. If it came down to it, if he chose to go back, how would I ever let him go?