Page 87 of UNAwere

I find his phone in the front right pocket and ease it out. When it asks me for facial recognition, I hold it up to his face. It doesn’t work, and I realise his eyes need to be open. Gritting my teeth, I lean over him and lift my other hand until my fingers are able to peel back his eyelids. Jude grumbles, and I apologise, letting out a breath when the phone unlocks.

There’s an app called Primrose, which I assume is something to do with his job. So I open it and find a file called Alliance Gift Transport. I turn my nose up at that. Warner could have at least used my name.

Inside the file are notes, maps, and the pre-approved list of each motel and eatery. I go through it, running down the list, until I see the name of the motel we’re currently at. And then it dawns on me.

We’re only a couple of days from Warner.

I let out a shaking breath and press on the map icon. It opens into the maps app and, relieved, I transfer the data onto my phone so I can use it to get me back on the road. I leave Jude’s phone in the centre console and pull out of the motel’s drive, getting back onto the highway.

And then I turn on the radio and start singing.

Jude wakes close to lunch.

He mumbles something and shifts in his seat. And then he must feel the seatbelt scrape across his wound because he grunts and sits up properly, his eyes flashing open.

I glance across at him and then back to the road.

‘You okay?’ I murmur.

He blinks, looking around, as if completely taken aback by the fact that he’s in a moving car and I’m driving.

‘What…?’

‘Don’t worry, we’re still on schedule,’ I say happily. ‘Well, kinda. I went through your phone.’ I realise how that sounds and stammer, ‘I-I mean, just to find the schedule and pre-approved places. And we’re back on track!’

‘Smart,’ he murmurs.

‘Thanks.’ I smile at him.

He winces, and I sigh.

‘Do you want me to get you some painkillers from the back? I can pull over?’

He shakes his head. ‘I’m okay.’

‘Are you sure—?’

‘Yeah.’ He meets my gaze, and I quickly glance back at the road, glad that I have an excuse to avoid his black-golden eyes. ‘You did good, Red.’

‘Thank you. I thought so.’ I smile at him, feigning bravado. Even though I feel like shattering into pieces.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says after a moment.

I wave a hand.

‘I shouldn’t have been such an arsehole to that arsehole,’ he continues.

‘Hey, look, you were kind of asking to be stabbed, but it’s fine.’

‘I just don’t want you to think that I thought you were trying to… hit on him.’

I snort. ‘I don’t think I even know how to do that.’ I think for a moment, and then say, ‘I think I need to be a bit more drunk to feel comfortable. But even then, it’s usually straight to the point, like, “Wanna go do-the-do?”’

It’s his turn to snort. ‘You did not say that.’

‘I think it happened once or twice.’

He shakes his head.