Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Fitz turned, opening the trunk to put their bags inside. “We got ourselves a fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants girl here, Max.” He paused before closing the trunk. “Do you need anything out of here before we go? We won’t stop until Missoula.”
With her mouth closed tight, she quickly shook her head.
“Good.” He closed the trunk with a nod of finality.
“ButIwantedtosay,” she whispered in a rush, shrinking under his glare. “I just wanted to tell you thank you. I know you’re doing this under duress, but it’s very important to me.” Digging into her coat pocket, she pulled an envelope free and thrust it toward him. “I also made you a card. Okay, now I’ll try to stick to rule six.”
He took the envelope, unceremoniously ripping it open. Inside was a hand-drawn card with the words THANK YOU “JUST FITZ” in bright block letters surrounded by a vibrant field of tiny, intricate fireworks. Yellow and orange, green and blue, red and purple. The precision, up close, was impressive, she knew. But when viewed from a little bit of a distance, it would look like stained glass. She’d made it last night—had spent nearly two hours on it, in fact—and she was proud of how it turned out.
For a beat, Fitz’s grumpy forehead smoothed as he stared down. “You made this?”
“Yeah.”
He exhaled a defeated breath and squeezed his eyes closed for a beat before shoving the card into his pocket and pointing to the passenger door. “Get in.”
Excitement rolled up inside her, bubbling free with a tiny clap-and-jump combo.
“Knock it off,” he said, rounding the car.
“I’m just so exci—”
“Shh.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FITZ
Even the click of her buckle was too exuberant.
“Calm down,” he muttered.
“I’m just getting in the car!”
“Just—” He exhaled a gusting breath. “Do it with more chill.”
She nodded firmly, and he could swear she tamped down the urge to salute.
He pulled away from the curb, and they were off. He watched as the lights of Corona College grew smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror…along with his enthusiasm for this trip.
This was not how he imagined making the drive from Spokane to Nashville. He’d imagined himself, Max, a giant mug of coffee in the cupholder, and some music blasting, windows down. He imagined having the freedom to let his thoughts run wild with the first What’s Next he’d ever relished. He was three months from graduating college, three months from getting everything he’d been promised, three months from beginning his revenge and starting fresh, alone.
Except he wasn’t alone. He had the world’s most annoying tagalong, who was furiously writing something in the notebook in her lap.
Maybe that’s what she’d do the entire time?
Maybe she’d write and draw, and Fitz could just pretend she wasn’t—
Ren raised her hand, and he tightened his grip around the steering wheel. “Yes?”
“Do you have a map?”
“You mean GPS? Yes, of course.”
“Not a paper map?” she asked.
“People don’t really use those anymore.”
“Well, as you probably know, I don’t have a ph—”
“Rule nine,” he reminded her.
“I’d be less inclined to speak,” she said pointedly, “if I could follow our progress on the road.”
“Then you should have brought a map yourself.”
“Oh!” She clapped, delighted. “I couldn’t sleep last night, so I borrowed Miriam’s laptop to look up some road trip games!” She opened her notebook again, where, a quick glance told him, she’d been writing down his stated rules for the road trip. She flipped back a page. “There’s the license plate game, where we can—”
“No.”
“—try to find a license plate from every state, and—”
“No.”
“—the alphabet game, where we find signs that start with each letter of the—”
“No games. Just—here.” He growled, reaching for his phone and, with his eyes on the road, holding it up to his face to unlock it. “Open Google Maps, but don’t touch anything else.”
She squealed, holding it up at arm’s length.
“Don’t read my texts.”
“I won’t.”
“Or emails.”
“Why would I read your emails?”
“I don’t know, just don’t.”
After about five minutes of blissful silence, Fitz felt his shoulders loosen in relief. Maybe she was capable of being quiet. Ren was transfixed watching their little blue circle bob along on the interstate, which allowed Fitz to return to the absorbing relief of the What’s Next. He mentally listed the overarching path: finish school, secure a letter of recommendation from Judge Iman, complete his law internship, take the LSATs, enter law school. And then ruthlessly take down his father.
Finishing school wouldn’t be an issue; securing the letter from Judge Iman might be, but there was nothing he could do about that right now. Now he should focus only on nailing the interview for a yearlong paid internship at the law offices of Fellows, Wing, and Greenleaf. Not only was it the best corporate law firm in the country but it was in Nashville…where he could be near Mary again. Where he could finally keep an eye on her.