Luanne rubbed her dry, scratchy eyes as she paced around the concrete picnic table. Exhaustion seeped through her pores. She’d driven all night and only stopped now to call Scarlett to give her an update.

The pink and golden rays of sunrise danced through the branches of the trees surrounding the roadside rest stop, and birds sang their morning song. Jack’s phone pressed to her ear repeatedly vibrated with incoming texts. She ignored them and waited for Scarlett to answer.

“Hello.”

Crap, it was too early for any decent person to be calling. “Hey. I’m so sorry to wake you, but I have cell service now and don’t know if I’ll have it later today. We’ve had a change of plans.”

“We’ve?”

“Jack and I.”

“You and Jack?” Instantly, Scarlett sounded way more awake.

Luanne ran her fingers through her hair. “Yes. It’s a long story and not entirely mine to tell. But what I can tell you is that my father pulled his sweet-talkin’ routine on me last night, and I nearly fell for it.”

“You called your dad?” Scarlett’s shock pierced her eardrum.

“He was at Gigi’s. When I called her he highjacked the phone. He said…it doesn’t matter. The point is I can’t see him yet, and he said he was sending someone to pick me up. Which would’ve meant a Justice of the Peace wedding for me and Doug when I got back to Zachsville.”

“He said that?”

“Not in so many words, but I know that’s what he wants.”

“He’s really not letting this go, is he?”

Luanne used the seat of the picnic table as a step and climbed up on the concrete slab to sit cross-legged. “No. He must be up to his neck with this business deal.”

“So now what’s your plan?”

“That’s part of what I can’t talk about, but we’ll stop tonight and I’ll call and let you know what I can.”

“Okay, tell me where to send the money when you can. I don’t like the thought of you going cross-country without any resources.”

She glanced over at the car containing her lifeline. “I’m not alone. Jack’s with me.”

Scarlett snorted. “Yeah, that makes me feel better.”

She didn’t want to talk about Jack. Her feelings toward him were very confused. On the one hand he was Jack, the annoying yet gorgeous thorn in her side. On the other hand, he was Jack who’d just found out his mother had lied to him his whole life, and she couldn’t help but feel bad for him. “I’ll call you later then. Oh, wait. When are you leaving for your trip?”

“Our flight’s at noon.”

“Okay, if you’re not available when I call later I’ll leave a message. Thanks.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Take care of yourself.”

“Love you, bye.”

She placed the phone on the table, leaned back on her hands, and enjoyed the morning rays on her face. What was she going to tell Jack? He wasn’t going to be happy. She’d made the decision to leave his father’s house, she’d driven his precious car, and she’d put him in danger without his consent. Yep. He was going to be pissed.

The staccato beat of her pulse was a direct result of guilt.

Guilt and anxiety.

But didn’t he deserve to meet his father? And his father’s family. She’d found the second page of the letter underneath Jack when she’d manhandled him up and maneuvered him to the car. Had he even seen it?

Not only did he have a father he didn’t know about, but he also had a grandmother and aunt who were anxious to meet him. So much family. Wanting him. The broken, lonely little girl inside her ached for a long-lost family to want her too.

Stupid, Luanne. This is about Jack, not you.

Still, if he did this to her, she’d be furious. She chewed on her thumbnail. Yep, this could get ugly. Indecision pulsed through every mental argument and a bead of hot sweat rolled down her temple. Enough. Time to brazen it out.

When in doubt, grow a pair of balls.

* * *

The incessant pounding of the bass drum shattering Jack’s head would not stop. He might have been able to ignore it if it weren’t accompanied by a piercing pain in his neck and shoulder. Slowly, he peeked one eye open, but all he could see was black leather. His attempts to get into a better position were met with resistance in the form of something long and round shoved against his ass.

What the hell?

He moved his hand behind him to investigate the object in question, but stopped short when pain shot through his shoulder. Gingerly, he turned his body and saw the stick shift from his Porsche. How had he gotten into his car? Oh, God. He hadn’t tried to drive somewhere, had he? Panic gripped his gut. He never drove drunk.

Relief washed over him when he realized he was in the passenger seat. But how had he gotten in the car? Maybe he’d decided sleeping in the car was preferable to sleeping in a house with a father who wanted him gone.

The events of the night before scrolled through his head like a movie on an old projector, yellowed and harsh. The alcohol, the letter, his father telling him to be gone in the morning, and the alcohol…so much alcohol. He tried to swallow down the fiery bile chugging up his throat, but his mouth was so dry.

An eighteen-wheeler’s horn blasted nearby. His head exploded in agony, followed by a pitiful groan. Hangovers were a young man’s game. He was definitely too old for this shit.

The driver’s side door opened and Luanne slid into the driver’s seat. “Oh. You’re awake.”

Even the slight dip her small body caused made his insides bubble and roil. Why did she look so guilty? “Where are we?”

“How are you feeling?

“Like hell. Where are we?”

“I bought some water. Would you like a bottle?”

“No…yes. Where are we?”

“I know I get terrible cotton mouth when I drink too much.” She turned and began rummaging through a plastic bag on the floor behind his seat.

“Luanne.” Damn, it hurt to speak above a whisper.

She sat up abruptly with a water bottle in one hand, a pill bottle in the other and an innocent expression so fake she looked like a mannequin. “Yes?”

He eased himself into a sitting position. The alcohol still present in his brain sloshed back and forth like one of those tubes full of liquid. The slightest movement caused a tsunami wave to roll around in his head. “Tell me,” he swallowed down some seriously nasty stuff, “Where are we?”

“Not far from Verna.”

“Verna?”

She glanced out the driver’s side window and bit her bottom lip. “Verna, Mississippi.”

“Luanne, I’m hung over, my head is pounding, and I might puke at any moment, so could you kindly tell me why the hell we aren’t far from Verna, Mississippi when last I checked we were in Beauchamp, Louisiana?”

“You don’t have to yell. I’m sitting right here.”

“And yet you aren’t giving me any answers.” He gripped his forehead with the hand of the arm resting on the door. “Just tell me, please.”

She opened the console between them and retrieved a piece of paper. He immediately recognized it. “Where’d you get that?”

“You gave me the first page and I found the second page underneath you when I got you up off the sofa. You’re heavy as hell, by the way.” Her attempt at levity did nothing for his mood. He gave her a flat-eyed stare that had her looking down at her hands. “Anyway, you told me about you and your dad—”

“My dad!” He started patting his pockets and searching on the floor.

“What are you looking for?”

“My phone. I need to call my dad.”

“I have your phone, and I left your father a note.”

“You left a note? Who gave you the authority to leave my dad a note? Or drive my car? Or kidnap me and take me to fucking Verna, Mississippi?”

She whipped around to face him. Flames sizzled in her baby blues. “You did, when you got so drunk you couldn’t sit up straight, let alone hold a pen to scribble out a note. You put me in the position of coming up with a solution for getting us out of there, especially since you told me your father wanted you gone by morning.”

Jack flinched at the words. Fresh heartbreak blasted through his chest. “He didn’t mean it.” But even he didn’t believe his own words.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. And I’m sorry for what happened with your dad.”

He picked up the papers. Even though there was no way in hell he could focus on the words. Didn’t matter. He knew what it said. “Did you read it?”

“I sort of had to. You shoved it in my face and told me to.”

“Sorry.” He massaged his temples.

“Take these.” She handed him the water and shook out two white pills for him to take.

He gratefully took the tablets and threw them back, then chased them with the water.

She unwrapped a packet of gum and gave him a piece. “Here.”

“Thanks.” He took another pull of water, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Sweat broke out on his upper lip and the churning in his stomach worried him. In situations like this concentration was the name of the game. Breath, swallow, will it away, repeat. “Could you turn on the air?”

“Oh, sure. You don’t look so good.”

With his lids still closed he blew out several puffs of air. “Yeah, well, I don’t feel so great. You got any Pepto in your bag of tricks?”

“No. Sorry. We can stop and get some at the next convenience store.” She started the car and cranked the air to high.

Something was missing in this conversation. He searched his pickled brain. “I only saw one page of the letter.”

She glanced over at him and he didn’t like the worried expression on her face. “You did?”

“Yes, what does the rest of the letter say?”

Without looking away from the road she opened the console and withdrew the letter. “See for yourself.”

He read but the words on the page wouldn’t arrange themselves into a coherent thought. “I can’t read this right now. What does it say?”

“Why don’t we wait until we get you something for your stomach before we discuss that?”

“Luanne.”

“What?”

“Tell me. How much worse can it be than to find out my father isn’t a factory worker from Beauchamp, Louisiana, but a gay syrup farmer from Vermont?” He rested his arm on the door and dropped his head in his hand.

She laughed nervously. “I do like syrup.”

“Tell me.” He hated the defeated tone of his voice, but at the moment it was all he had.

“You have a grandmother and an aunt who live in West Virginia.”