The Road That Leads Us Home (COMPLETED)

Zoya read over the escape plan one more time. It'd been years, but she couldn't help herself. At this point, it soothed her. Eight seasons of watching The Catch had helped put the plan in motion, but if she'd overlooked a step, they'd find her.                           Episode 18-Keep go-bag packed for aquick getaway. For weeks she'd camouflaged the bag by burying it in a box of old clothes.                           Episode 21-Destroy credit and debit cards. Put cash into pregnancy bag. On the day she left, she'd strapped on the fake belly, pulled on an oversized sweatshirt, and waddled around like a penguin for effect.                           Episode 36-Get fake ID and cosmetology certification. Even after all

Zoya recognized Roman  DeRoux from the stack of pictures Miss Charamel kept in a leather box on  the mantle. But he looked different in the flesh.                     A little south of six  feet, he wore faded jeans, topped with a fleece-lined jacket. Days worth  of stubble surrounded full lips. Dark brown hair curled beneath the  edge of a knit beanie while cold brown eyes stared back.                     Zoya rose from the  water, reached for the towel hanging on the rack next to him, and  wrapped herself, tucking in the corner to secure it.                     "Did you escape?"                     He blinked like it was a stupid question, but it w

When Zoya got home,  Roman's motorcycle was nowhere to be seen. She didn't know if she should  be happy or sad. Glad not to face him or depressed about postponing the  inevitable. She knew his attitude concerning her living there, but she  couldn't leave. Not yet.                     Once inside, she  released the cats and cleaned the laundry room. At least Roman had  followed her instructions, right down to hanging the dishcloth over the  faucet. She needed to make him understand how easy it would be for them  to live together. If he followed her directions, she'd stay out of his  way.                     She removed his clothes  from the dryer, placed his shirt and jeans on hangers, and then neatly  folded his underwear and socks. They didn't look new, so that made her  th

Roman wanted to kick  himself. He kept letting this intruder get the best of him. But it'd  been almost a decade since he'd had Charamel's fried chicken and Buko  pie, and if yesterday's meal indicated his lola's training, his  expectations were high.                     Almost every dream he'd  had in prison was of this place. Helping in the garden. Picking  blackberries off the fence row. Swimming in the pond. Sleeping outside.  As soon as the weather warmed, he'd do that again. Another thing he'd  missed about freedom. A star-filled sky.                     For now, he'd let the  girl stay, but the cats were going first thing Monday morning. She  claimed no attachment, but he'd bet otherwise. Getting rid of them might  convince her to move on. That combined with last night's a

After work on Sunday, Zoya parked in the drive but didn't go inside. Roman's truck wasn't there, so he'd probably gone into town to find another fuck buddy. Instead, she took a sketch pad and hurried to the treehouse. Still fuming about the invasion of privacy, for dinner, she'd let him fend for himself.                       Multiplying her monthly payment was his way of telling her he knew she had money. Or, it might be the other way. He didn't know about the stash and by increasing her expense, hoped she'd look for something cheaper. Her brain hurt from thinking about it. Paranoia either way. Even though she'd never gotten the photos in the can mixed up, it was a possibility. If Dad were here, he'd say not to read so much into things. He'd flash the smile he reserved just for her and use all those clichés he loved to spout. It is what it is. Don't make a chicken out of a feather. She'd always