LILAH

PRESENT

It had been three days since we hit Bob's Convenience.

We were in full on lay-low mode, which meant no going out, no having fun, no doing much of anything.

It was detrimental, but it was also a drag-and-a-half. After eating the little food that we had, I finally managed to convince Noah to go on a quick run for supplies.

We left our crummy hotel, where the board was cheap and the other guests made us look like church clergy, and headed to the nearest gas station to find something to put in our empty stomachs.

Noah went in alone and came out with a plastic bag in one hand, a folded newspaper in the other. Something was off in his expression, and as I watched him cross the parking lot, a bad feeling twisted its way up the notches of my spine.

Noah tossed the folded newspaper down on the seat in between without uttering a word. From his silence, and the way he couldn't seem to look at me, I had a pretty good idea of what to expect, but I picked it up anyways and started reading.

2 suspects wanted for string of armed robberies

My heart sunk like an anchor, making a firm landing on the ocean floor of my stomach. Noah was surprisingly stoic, his face revealing nothing. His fingers ran absently over the stubble on his jaw, waiting for me to continue. With a heavy sigh, I did.

Two people are wanted in connection with a string of armed robberies that occurred over the past twelve weeks.

Officials say the investigation spans several jurisdictions and crosses multiple state lines, including the new border of Virginia, Tennessee, and Kentucky.

Witnesses claim a young man and woman are responsible for the crimes, entering the establishments armed and holding employees at gunpoint.

It's estimated that the culprits have made off with over $30,000 in stolen cash and merchandise. Police are asking for the public's help in bringing these criminals to justice.

It went on to include a very in-depth description of both of us—including the fact that we both carry heavy southern accents—where we were last spotted, and a hotline number to call with tips and information on our whereabouts.

I dropped the newspaper and placed my hands in my lap to hide the fact that they were trembling. Several, long seconds passed, the silence racing back and forth between us, charging the air with nervous ions.

Finally, I mustered up the guts to say, "At least, there's no reward out for us."

"Yet," he scoffed, still unable or unwilling to look me in the eye.

I couldn't blame him for being upset. More than once, he'd warned me that things were getting too hot.

And, what did I do?

I ignored the feelings of utter mortality that his words induced, and leaped blindly into the fire, dragging Noah along with me. And now, my naivety would burn us both.

He had every right to be angry.

He should've been angry with me for much more than that, including the fact that we had to leave Midnight in the first place. I had the strong suspicion that if it wasn't for me, Noah would still be there, surrounded by his friends and family-not running from the law.

In fact, it was his clear lack of anger that was the cause of my growing guilt. That, and the colossal secret I'd been keeping from him, one that was sure to destroy us.

Maggie, the woman who birthed me, always knew I would make a mess of my life, just as she had. She told me so... many times. And now, I had proven the bitch right.

"Noah," I said, hesitating like the coward I was. "I know that you're mad at me..."

"—I'm not mad at you," he interrupted. "I'm pissed at myself. I shouldn't have let it go this far."

More knots of guilt. So many knots, I should become a fucking sailor. The boy scouts would never take me.

"They didn't mention the Mustang," I added hopefully, like it might make up for the fact that I'm shit inside.

"It's only a matter of time, Lilah. We can't keep running, we can't keep stealing, and we can't go ho—to Midnight," he corrected. "I don't know where to go from here."

For the first time, his words truly sunk in. They melted straight through skin and bone and landed somewhere deep inside me.

I ached to make things better, to comfort him in some way but knew it was futile. He was right. And, it was all my fault, whether he was willing to admit it or not.

"We'll have to start using fake names," I said, being completely serious. But, for some reason, this is what finally lightens the mood.

"What'd you have in mind?" he asked, his mouth curling into an almost-smile.

He was contagious, and it wasn't long before the corners of my own mouth started to lift. "Well, I was thinking I might have to start calling you Cotton, again."

A full-on smile erupted. "I thought you forgot about that stupid nickname."

"Not a chance."

It was an old nickname, a joke really, from our childhood. There was a cotton field behind Noah's childhood home, and he was always covered in the white bolls from playing in the fields.

Any time his older brother, Reid, would spot us playing, he'd shout, "Cotton Ball and Candy Cane!"

I guess the nicknames sort of stuck, though eventually, we shortened them. The adventures of Cotton and Candy, two peas in a pod.

Every time I thought about that cotton field, it brought back a world of memories. Most of them were completely innocent. Others, not so much.

One particular memory had my cheeks flaming red.

My insides came alive like there was a flurry of flapping wings wreaking havoc in my core. As if he knew what memory I was reliving, Noah's lips parted, his eyes darkening, watching my reaction.

Noah's eyes were beautiful and dangerous, like standing over the edge of a cliff and seeing jagged, black obsidian jet out of the raging ocean below.

They were all fractals, and darkness, and never-ending blue.

Staring into them, I became fearless. Weightless with electricity. And, ready to face whatever lay at the bottom, knowing it would all be worth it.

Noah took my arm and tugged, wanting me to come to him. And, I did.

I slid across the leather seat, crumpling the newspaper as I went. His heat immediately warmed the atmosphere, filling it up with his scent.

I thought he would kiss me, but he didn't. Instead, he held me tightly in his arms, taking a deep breath, savoring the moment like it was the last time he would ever get to.

Suddenly, I was afraid.

Afraid it would be the last time. Of losing him for good. I knew if we ever got caught he would try to take all the blame.

I tried to imagine what life without Noah would look like. He was my true North, the one steady thing in my life. My only constant. Without him, I knew I would be lost. 

I pictured myself, alone and vulnerable, wandering the highways with my empty pack. My shoulders—and everything about me—slumped, like my features had been beaten down by the hand of God. Cars zipping past all hours of the day and night. Never anyone to stop. Never anyone to care.

It was at that moment, I knew what we had to do—and I hated it.

"Let's go back," I said before I had the chance to change my mind.

He lifted his head, his eyebrows, narrowing in confusion. "Back where?"

You need to do this. You owe him.

"Midnight," I took a deep breath, "Home." Saying the word left a bad taste in my mouth.

His head drew back in surprise, deep creases forming on his forehead. "I thought you hated that idea?"

"I do. But, you said it yourself. We're running out of options."

Once his surprise lifted, I could see him mulling it over, his gears starting to turn.

"We have family and friends there that would help us. We just have to be careful not to let the wrong people know that we're back," I said, trying to convince myself, more than Noah.

He snorted. "You mean your mother?"

"Yes," I said, thinking back to the last time I saw her. That horrible night that felt like lifetimes ago. It was hard to believe it had only been a year.

"We don't have to actually stay in Midnight. We could go to Silver City, instead," Noah suggested.

I shook my head. "Too many people know us there." 

Silver City was the town we went to high school in. Any of our old classmates would be sure to recognize us.

"What about Yazoo City?" Noah asked, perking up at the thought. "It's close to Midnight. There're more people, so we'll blend in. Nobody knows us there."

I thought about it for a minute and slowly nodded. This could work. 

It had to.

We spent the rest of the evening eating cold, greasy, gas-station food and planning our drive back to Mississippi. I wasn't happy about returning to Midnight but it was better than us going to prison, so I gritted my teeth and tried not to act like the pouting child that I was.

And even though we didn't talk about it much, I knew Noah was dying to see his mom and brothers. He hadn't spoken to them in over a year, but they were his family and he loved them. Especially his baby brother, Cash.

Being so much older than Cash, Noah always tried to look out for him and protect him from their psycho father. I knew being away—not knowing if they were ok—was hard on Noah. He tried to put on a good face but the pain was always there, hiding just under the surface. Ready to drown him if he dipped in too deep. 

It was yet another knot of guilt to add to my heaping, tangled pile. It's a wonder I could even digest food anymore. 

We waited until nightfall and loaded everything we owned into the Mustang with Noah insisting that we double check so nothing got left behind. As we stood at the trunk doing a final inspection, a certain finality swirled in the air. Everything to our name fit so easily in the space and as Noah closed the lid, it felt like he was also closing a door we could never go back through.

Our eyes met, and I knew the question shining brightly within his was being reflected in my own.

Was this the right decision?

Before either of us could voice our concern aloud, a raindrop splattered down my cheek. I wiped it away and lifted my gaze to a starless, night sky. Was this some sort of sign? A message from the Heaven's, encouraging us to stay on this path? Or a bad omen, warning us to abandon it completely? I had no way of knowing as we climbed into the Mustang.

The two of us settled into our usual roles, him driving and me riding shotgun, while I began thinking of ways to entertain myself on the long trip. At the last minute, I grabbed my camera from the bag.

We drove for a while, the rain, coming down in leaky drizzles and spurts. It wasn't until we crossed into Alabama that I realized we were driving into a much bigger storm. 

Rain began to pound the car in angry torrents, and I shifted around nervously in my seat, unable to shake the feeling of a bad omen. The hollow patter on the car's steel body was so loud and hollow, it became nearly impossible to focus on anything else. The car swayed erratically down the lane as the wind whipped around it and howled across the highway. 

"Maybe we should pull over," I asked, finally giving in to my growing anxiety.

"Nah. We'll be fine. Just gotta drive through it."

As if God himself could hear us, the rain fell even harder. It blasted the windshield full-force, making it nearly impossible to see. Noah tried adjusting the wipers but they were already moving at top speed. After a few seconds of trying to squint through the onslaught, he was swearing.

"God damn, son of a—" He didn't hold back. It was one of the reasons I loved him. "We're getting off at the next exit."

The Mustang was Noah's most prized possession and I knew he wouldn't risk anything happening to it, or us, for that matter. Still, I felt a surge of relief. The last thing we needed was to be in an accident and have the police called.

We took the next exit and drove down a stretch of road towards the glow of a sign, towering in the distance. Through the haze of the rain, I could just make out the words. Barry's Truck Stop and Diner.

"There," I said, perking up. "There's a diner."

A few minutes later, our headlights illuminated the building's old, brick walls. The lot was mostly empty, only a few big trucks parked along one side. The haze from the rain and dim lighting made it feel eerie and desolate.

"You ready?" Noah asked.

I took a deep breath and nodded.

We got ready to run and threw open our doors, the cool rain, immediately assaulting me, stealing my breath away.

I pulled up the hood of my jacket and began my mad dash while Noah stayed behind to lock up the Mustang. Keeping my head down, I sprinted down the walkway up to the entrance, and just as my fingers wrapped around the door's steel handle, I glanced up, only to be met with a pair of dark eyes.

Trying to avoid a collision, I drew up short and gasped, nearly choking on the rain. Realizing that I had placed my hand on his chest, I took a step back from the man that had startled me. 

The hood of his dark raincoat was pulled up, shrouding his face in shadows. Why on Earth is he standing out here in the pouring rain?  My hand went to my frantic heart. "I'm sorry," I exhaled in relief. "You scared me. I didn't see you standing ther—"

"Lilah."

I froze at what I thought was my name coming out of his mouth. What did he just say? I took a closer look at the man, thinking that maybe we somehow knew each other.

He was middle-aged, with a worn face and a sun-beaten complexion. Dark eyes bore into mine, a half-smile twisting the corners of his mouth. I didn't recognize him.

The hairs stood on the back of my neck and it had absolutely nothing to do with the chill from the rain. "What did you say?" I asked.

He grinned. "I asked if you have a lighter?"

I shook my head slowly. I was sure he said my name.

We continued to watch each other with equal interest. His eyes were terrifyingly dark, but it was his mouth that I found captivating—a twisted smirk that made me feel as though there was some juicy secret that I wasn't a part of. That's when I felt Noah come up behind me. 

"What are you doing?" He stopped beside me, his eyes darting between me and the stranger.

I pulled my eyes away from the man to smile at Noah. "Waiting for you." Without waiting for his response, I yanked the door open. Just before starting inside, I glanced once more at the stranger. He responded with the slightest of nods before we disappeared into the diner.

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the fluorescent lighting. I made my way towards the booths but Noah grabbed my arm, stopping me. "Did that guy say something to you?" he asked, his eyes, sharp as a hawk's.

"No."

He studied me for a moment. "Are you sure? You had a weird look on your face."

"I just scared myself, is all. I didn't see him standing there."

Noah seemed to accept this answer because his eyes softened, and he turned his attention toward the diner.

The place smelled like fried food and diesel fuel. Several booths lined the left side in red, dingey vinyl that peeled away in places. A long counter with matching stools lined the right. We helped ourselves to a booth by the window. A woman clad in a Barry's t-shirt, who I assumed was our waitress, stood behind the counter, shamelessly flirting with one of the patrons. She batted her heavily made-up eyes and twirled her dirty-blonde hair around her finger, immersed in their conversation.

I turned my thoughts back to the man outside. "What do you think he was doing out there? Standing in the pouring rain like that?"

"Beats me." Noah shrugged. "He was kind of dirty looking. Maybe he was letting the rain wash away some of the grime."

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"What!?" he snickered. "He's probably a vagrant."

"A vagrant?" I asked. Now it was my turn to snicker. "What are you, my grandmother?"

"Vagrant, drifter, hobo... you know what I mean."

I looked out the window expecting to see the guy, but the angle made it impossible. "I just feel bad for him, is all. Stuck out in the rain like a stray dog."

"Well, what do you expect us to do about it, Lilah? We're pretty much stray dogs ourselves."

We both paused, our eyes meeting for several long seconds. Then, the corners of Noah's mouth lifted and we burst into laughter. 

Thirty minutes and two helpings of peach cobbler later, we were walking out the door of Barry's in a much better mood.

With the rain seemingly over, we climbed into the Mustang, it's dark paint reflecting the neon sign above. Noah started the engine and just as we were backing out, I spotted the man again.

He stood at the end of the lot near the road. His arm was extended, his thumb out, trying to hitch a ride.

He carried what looked like an oversized duffel bag on his back. You could probably fit an entire person in it. He looked like he might tip over if the wind picked up again.

"Noah. Look," I said, nodding towards the man.

Noah followed my gaze and his face filled with recognition. "See. I told ya."

"We should give him a ride," I said as if it was a completely normal thing to do.

"Are you crazy? Ain't you ever heard stories about picking up hitchhikers?"

"Look at the guy! He's soaking wet, carrying a hundred pounds of gear. He's probably miserable!" I argued.

"Lilah," He spoke my name like he was talking to an unreasonable child, "... we're wanted criminals. We can't be picking up total strangers. What if he turns us in?"

I snorted. "That's ridiculous! How would he even know who we are? That was a hundred miles away!" I snapped. "And even if he did, do you really think he would care? I mean, look at the guy! He's not exactly your typical, model citizen."

I didn't mean to get so upset. Especially when I knew Noah was only trying to look out for us. But, all I could think was, this is gonna be me if Noah goes to prison—wandering the world, lost and alone.

Images from my daydream earlier popped into my head and I couldn't take it. I shook away the images and turned to Noah with pleading eyes.

"What if it was us, Noah? Wouldn't you want someone to stop if it was me out there?"

Noah shook his head and turned his face away. For a moment, I thought I really pissed him off. Then, he sighed, his shoulders sagging. "Fine. But, if I get any bad vibes from him at all, I'm tossing his ass out of my car and leaving him. I don't give a damn if there's a hurricane outside."

My eyes lit up and I threw myself at him. I squeezed him tight and looked up into his blue eyes, smiling. "You know I love you, right?"

Noah huffed a little but hugged me back. "Don't know why you care so much about some dirty drifter anyways."

I swallowed, hard. "Cause... it's the right thing to do."

Noah shook his head once more and then maneuvered the Mustang across the lot, creeping to a stop a few feet away from him.

Fog billowed off the pavement as the man turned to us. His hood was still up, his silhouette outlined from the street light above. The whole thing looked like a scene out of a bad slasher film.

My hairs stood on end as I watched the man approach. I told myself it was the eerie setting making me feel this way.

Surely, he can't be any worse than us.

Right?