Page 63 of Torin

Because he is convincing.

If I hadn’t met Hannah, I’d be sitting here thinking exactly what the waitress is thinking: poor girl. Poor family. Thank God she has a father who’s trying to find her.

But I have met her. And I know exactly what he’s doing.

He’s made sure that if Hannah asks anyone for help, they’ll call him instead.

Fuck.

And she doesn’t even know this is happening. She’s sitting up at that cabin with no internet, no way to see what he’s saying about her or find out how far this has spread.

I reach for my wallet, throw enough cash on the table to cover breakfast and head for the door.

The cabin door flies open before I’ve even killed the engine.

Hannah steps onto the porch and shades her eyes.

A grin spreads across her face.

I smile back, even as the image of her face on the TV screen flashes through my head.

She has no idea.

I climb out of the truck and reach into the passenger seat.

“Back again?” she calls.

“Can’t seem to stay away.”

Her smile gets bigger.

God, she’s beautiful.

Then her attention shifts to the box. “What’s that?”

“Internet.”

She comes down from the porch. “You can’t fit the internet in a box.”

“Shows what you know.”

I carry it around the side of the cabin, looking for the clearest stretch of sky. Hannah follows, frowning.

“What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head and comes closer. “When I complained about the internet, I wasn’t expecting you to actually do something about it.”

“You said you needed it.”

“I said the cabin didn’t have it.”

“Same thing.”

A little smile appears.

I set the box on the ground and open it.

Hannah crouches beside me as I pull out a satellite dish, a tangle of cable and several pieces of hardware whose purpose isn’t immediately obvious.