AN: Not abandoned! More stuff cropped up, I'm so sorry it's taken so long to write. I have the next five chapters mapped out and outlined and will likely be posted every few days from here on out once they're edited and fleshed out. I'm going to be doing prompts and one-shots for this story on Tumblr, the URL is inxanotherxworldx. I've also got a playlist for this story up on Spotify. In Another World by thornelockehart, feel free to check it out!

Well, if you're anything like me
You just might be doing whatever it takes to outrun the storm
But I'm almost out that door

Luke Combs — One Number Away

The mercury on the thermometer continued to rise into the triple digits in the late afternoon sun. Rhiannon had shifted more hay bales from the back of Edward's truck than she could remember. It was easy and solid seating for kids. It was easily disposed of, yet it didn't mean it didn't render her gym membership useless. If she hadn't had the foresight to use sunblock and wear a hat, there would likely be a burn across the exposed skin from her black tank top.

Seeing Gemma before going home the next day wasn't on her bingo card for her last night in Charming, but Rhiannon was still carrying one per her uncle's request.

"Where do you need this, Gemma?" she asked, balancing a bale on her knee and shifting her weight. She could hear old country crooning from an old radio somewhere close by. "Uncle Ed's got several more leftover bales after the seating for the concert, along with some sheets if you need more than this."

"Bobby will probably need it when he gets here, so you can set it by the table right there. Tell him I said thanks," she responded without looking up. Rhiannon spotted Shane manning a grill at the police department with a fake grin plastered on his face. A shiver of disgust curled down her spine and meeting his steely gaze made her want to retch.

How in the hell had she ever been in love with him? How could she have been so blind to how utterly venomous he was? How could she have fallen for his tricks?

The world blurred and voices slowed to a warble. A hand on her arm and Rhiannon dropped the bale onto the ground, landing on her foot. The cold water bottle pressed against her forearm brought her back to reality. For all of her issues with Gemma, she couldn't remember being so grateful for her presence right then.

"Sorry," she muttered as she dragged the bale to its designated spot. She accepted the water and took a long drink before twisting the bottle in her gloved fingers. Shane was watching her and she wasn't so naïve to think otherwise. It was just a matter of time before something else happened and she was gaslighted into believing something else was her fault. Whatever hungover courage she had had that day in the police station was long gone and now she couldn't help but feel like a bug under a microscope.

He wanted to see her sweat. He wanted to see her nervous and scared. He wanted to watch her be upset and he wanted to feel anything as a result.

"I could use some help at my booth," Gemma offered and it didn't take a genius to see a rare olive branch. Strangely enough, out of all of her exes' mothers, Rhiannon had gotten along best with Gemma. At some points throughout her relationship with Jax, the two of them had been somewhat close. No one had been good enough for Shane, in the eyes of his mother Tammy. She had been too young for Will, according to his mother Camille.

No matter the motive, it was a relief.

"I'll help out once I get the rest of the bales here," she responded, pointing with her thumb over her shoulder towards her uncle. It was a strenuous process; Rhiannon had forgotten just how taxing hauling hay from a truck bed could be, despite her extensive workout regimen at home. Six years' worth of self-defense classes, working out in a gym after work, none of it had anything on the cardio from hoisting hay bales. The reason for self-defense classes stood not twenty feet from her and stared through her as though he couldn't decide if he wanted to kill her right then or later on.

It didn't matter how many years of kickboxing or Krav Maga she took, it meant nothing if she froze up when she needed it the most. The very best she could do was ignore the bug-under-microscope feeling and turn kids into tigers or cats or paint flowers on their faces until Bobby arrived.

"Did Jax tell you about Kyle Hobart?" Gemma asked once there was a lull. Rhiannon swiped a paintbrush across a paper towel to dry and set it on the folding table.

"Yeah, he did. I've got my marching orders. I doubt Kyle would get within spitting distance of me, anyways." There was a code one didn't break, even after not being in the circle anymore. Rhiannon knew her place. "He's got some serious stones even asking to set foot in Charming, kid or not."

Her gaze didn't break from Kyle Hobart standing not fifteen feet from them as he chatted casually with whom she assumed to be one of the moms. His friend giggled beside him.

"I bet if you gave her a penny for her thoughts, you'd get change back," she commented, nodding towards the pair and earning her a derisive snort from Gemma. Some people truly had no class if Kyle decided that parading the bimbo in front of his ex-wife was a good idea. "He'd screw anything that walks with a wiggle, that much I do remember."

"When are you coming back into town? I know you've probably got some shit to handle."

The olive branch extended further and Rhiannon's eyes narrowed slightly in her direction. "Next week or so, I've got some stuff to sort out from the will post-probate. I've got some business to handle in 'Frisco and then I have a meeting with a client in Lodi later on. I also wanted to check in on Di at the center. Uncle Emmett's death and the funeral were tough on her," she responded.

Since leaving town, going low contact had been crucial. Boundaries didn't exist otherwise and drunken rages from her sister and father had her nearly dropping out and moving home. Being accused of being a 'golden child' or 'favorite' had worn on her. Being accused of not caring about Diane's well-being because she had moved was another. Yet part of her often wondered the what if. What if she hadn't left home? What if she hadn't gone to Oakland that night?

"I'm going to snag a soda if you want anything," she offered by way of changing the subject and cutting the awkwardness that hung in the air. She uncrossed her legs and stood up from the worn camping chair, hissing a little as her formerly bad leg straightened. "Snack?"

It wouldn't be anywhere near the police department booth, she'd already long-since decided.

"I'm okay, you go on ahead," Gemma answered, waving her hand in dismissal. Rhiannon dusted any wayward dirt from her jeans as she walked away from the booth.

She pulled her worn, sweat-soaked black Stanford University baseball cap further down on her face to keep anyone else from approaching her. With how quickly the sun was setting, taking it off was an option she didn't particularly want. She was fooling no one, yet the security blanket kept her sane. If anyone asked, she could simply say she had a gnarly case of hat hair.

Selfishly, in her heart of hearts, she wanted to see Jax again, at least one more time before she left. Even if she was coming back in a few days, even if it was a quick farewell or greeting. Their last meeting hadn't gone well, despite the lighthearted humor.

It's better this way, she chided herself. You're different people. You don't know each other anymore.

It had been too long. Rhiannon had waited too long to come home to fix anything or move forward. They were completely different people, polar opposite from who they had been in the past. They had nothing in common but the past.

Now she stood in the crowd, waiting for the fireworks to go off while the music from the band played in the background. Her finger tapped on the top of her soda can and she finally cracked it open. Sugar and caffeine would probably keep her up a little later than usual, but it was a welcome distraction from her current wayward thoughts.

It's because you've lost one of the most important people to you.

Rhiannon finally pulled out her phone to call Edward, anything to get her mind off of this and go back to the house sooner. "Hey, Uncle Ed, are you ready to head out? I think I'm all done for the day," she said by way of greeting.

"What are you talking about? I left two hours ago."

Fuck.

She hit the end button on the screen and scrolled through contacts. Percy would certainly be asleep and waiting twenty minutes for a five-minute car trip wasn't ideal, even if she knew she would. Percy would drive three hours to take her down the street, if necessary. It left one person.

Before Rhiannon would talk herself out of it, she quickly hit the call button. There was every chance he was asleep as well, but the greeting said otherwise.

"Hey. Did I wake you up?" she asked, finally pulling her hat off her head once and for all.

"No, I'm still up. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you headed to the fundraiser at all to help break it down? Some miscommunication happened with my uncle and I'm kind of...stranded. Is it too much to ask for a ride back to Emmett's? I hate to ask."

"I'm heading past that way in a bit. I don't mind."

"Thank you for your contribution to making sure I don't walk home in the pitch black." With that, she hung up and stood near the exit. In her bid to get home, there was one thing she hadn't counted on and it was Jax on his bike versus a car.

Her stomach twisted in knots once more as she surveyed the motorcycle beneath him. Even if it was a new bike in comparison to his old, likely mangled one, Rhiannon hadn't been on a motorcycle since that fateful night. Her ex-boyfriend Will had had one for a hobby, but even then, she had refused to ride on it. Jax had been the first person whose bike she had ridden and his bike was the last. He was also a far more experienced rider than before.

"Sorry, I haven't ridden since that night," she admitted as she shoved her hat into the back pocket of her jeans and hooked her finger into the hair elastic keeping her messy chestnut hair in some semblance of a ponytail to shake it out. She adjusted the strap of the helmet with shaky fingers after setting it on her head.

"We're the only people on the route to Emmett's," he assured, leaning the bike her way to allow her to climb onto the backseat. "I've got you."

I've got you. How many times had he spoken those words to her in the past? Whether it was helping her out of the truck, on and off the back of his bike, in and out of a saddle, those words were likely the most reassuring coming from him. They still held the ability to lower the stress she felt sitting on the seat, at least slightly and only temporarily. The feeling of the bike gaining speed still took her breath away, not unlike taking off on a horse, though much smoother.

It didn't mean she didn't hear the screeching collision of metal or the blood-freezing sound of glass splintering upon impact when she closed her eyes. She still remembered how it felt when her helmet slammed on the pavement and how badly her body ached when she came to in the hospital. Under foundation and concealer laid the scar that had never fully gone away from a piece of glass embedded in her cheek. If Jax hadn't thrown her first upon collision, she could have died that night or suffered injuries worse than a shattered knee and broken ribs.

The feeling of his hand on her arm jerked her from her daze and she realized then that they were parked in Emmett's driveway.

"Thanks," she murmured. She could feel his strong hands on her slender waist and her hip to help her dismount the bike. "It's been a really long time. I appreciate the ride."

It felt too familiar. It felt like the times that he'd later sneak her out of her window and they would go someplace remote until the sun came up.

It's because of the bullshit from the past couple of weeks. It's because of the funeral. It's because of Shane. You're leaning for no reason, she told herself. It's not there anymore.

"Wanna get out of here?" he offered finally. "Old time's sake?"

There was no one waiting up for her inside. There was time to regret it later, probably when the sun came up if they were going by old time's sake. By the look of his face in the light of the dated sconce outside the garage, he needed it as much.

"Yeah," she agreed, accepting the helmet once more. "Let's go."