Lucy
“Home sweet campground,” I announce as we pull into Big Lake Energy.
“Campground?” Miles looks up from his laptop for the first time in nearly two hours. It’s a wonder he doesn’t have a neck cramp. “I thought we were staying in the silver bullet?”
He’s joking, right?
A sideways glance proves he is not, in fact, joking.
“Did you think I was just going to pull into a Target parking lot and set up camp for the night?”
Which, now that I think about it, doesn’t sound half bad.
Target run and done, indeed.
“No,” Miles says, the tips of his ears turning red, “but why spend the money for a campsite when you’ve literally got a mobile home?”
“I’m a woman. Travelling alone.” He can’t really be this clueless, can he? “I’m not just going to pull over wherever and whenever. It’s much safer to have an established route and to stay in well-populated areas. For safety,” I reiterate.
Surely he’s seen the headlines about women who go missing and are never seen again. Women who disappear on trail hikes. On tropical vacations. On solo freaking road trips.
My chest tightens, and I can feel my heart rate increase as anxiety takes hold.
Deep, slow breaths.
Mierda. Why am I like this? Why does my brain insist on feeding me the worst-case scenario all the time? Why can’t it be sunshine and rainbows and freaking bunny rabbits? Is that really too much to ask?
I exhale slowly, forcing myself to counter the negative thoughts with facts.
I have a plan.
I’ve taken all the appropriate precautions.
People know where I’m going to be each day.
There is no immediate threat.
Everything is fine.
Miles is quiet for a long moment, gaze pressing down on me like a weighted blanket. When he finally speaks, his voice is firm and reassuring. “You are not alone, Lucy.”
No. No, I am not.
He is by my side, putting off a fierce, protective vibe.
One that has my insides melting and my heart wishing this moment could last forever.
But I can’t afford to think like that. That kind of thinking is exactly what got me into this mess. He may be here now, but it’s temporary.
“Yes, well, it’s not like I knew you’d be tagging along, did I?” Frankly, I couldn’t have imagined this scenario in my wildest dreams. “And I think it’s safe to say that when the novelty of this trip wears off, I’ll be travelling solo, as planned.”
“So little faith.” He snaps his laptop closed. “Where are we, anyway?”
I have no idea what he’s been working on, and I haven’t asked, since I’ve been too busy trying to keep my eyes open. It’s been a long-ass day of driving, and I’m exhausted.
“Missouri,” I say, following the signs toward the campsite I reserved online. “At this time tomorrow, we’ll be pulling into Chicago so we can really get this adventure started.”
I find our site, and thankfully, it’s designed to accommodate a much larger camper, so I have no trouble parking.
