“How long are we talking?” she said.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Patrick sent her a scowl over his shoulder, and she murmured, “It’s not an unreasonable question, Patrick.”
“No, I’m not okay.” It was good to get it out, give it voice. I’d been pretending to be all right for so long, it felt like a vindication to finally say it out loud. “I’m really fucked up, and I need to go. I’m not sure how long.”
Shannon tossed her pen back in the jar. “But Riley—”
“Riley is more than capable. Matt trained him well, and we don’t need to treat him like an idiot. He can do this, and he deserves the opportunity to succeed on his own. I’ve written a letter to the Turlans—it’s on my desk—and they’ll be happy with Riley’s work. This project will make his career.”
She clasped her hands on her desk and stared at them, nodding slowly.
“What do you need from us?” Patrick asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing. Just . . . time. Time to get my shit together.”
“Where are you going?” he asked.
I rubbed the back of my neck and hesitated. I didn’t want my well-intentioned siblings to show up and ruin the solitude I required, but I knew boxing them out wasn’t fair either.
“I’m going camping. I’m thinking Acadia, but maybe the Kancamagus. I haven’t decided, and I probably won’t until I hit the road.”
“You’ll let us know if you need anything? If there’s anything we can do?” he asked.
“There’s nothing, Patrick. I just need to be alone.”
The city was as empty as I felt, and the drive home was oddly quick. I went straight into packing mode. I kept all of my gear in one of the closets alongside the original fire truck bays, and soon I had everything loaded into the old pickup I reserved for these adventures.
I didn’t need much else; some clothes, some books, enough medical supplies for several weeks. Maybe months.
I was tossing my rucksack into the truck when Riley walked in. He pointed to the equipment in the truck’s bed. “What is happening here?”
I lifted a shoulder and shrugged into my fleece jacket. “I’m taking off.”
“Oh no you’re not,” he laughed. “Go on. Tell me another silly story.”
Leaning against the truck, I slipped on my wool socks and hiking boots. “I’m heading up north. I want to spend some time in the woods. Breathe some clean air. You’re in charge of Turlan, and the rest of my projects. Keys to the Range Rover are on the kitchen table. Utilities are paid for the next—”
“Stop. Stop.” He held up his hands and advanced on me. “This is crazy. Turlan isyourbaby, and Patrick will never go for me managing any project that important, and you were having a seizure in the fucking hospital one week ago, and if you’d just fucking listen to me, we could figure out how to fix things with Tiel.”
“He already knows, and you can handle it.” I turned away to tie down the gear.
“Sam,” he said. “Are you even going to tell her?”
“No,” I murmured. “She’s better off without me. I think that’s abundantly clear to everyone.”
His shoulders dropped and he shook his head. He watched as I secured the truck and shut the closet, silent. “Do you have enough insulin? Glucose tablets? What about replacement parts, and those little batteries?”
“All set.”
“What about food? Do you need cash?” He reached for his wallet and offered up sixty dollars. I refused, but he shoved it into my coat pocket anyway. “Do you have a phone charger? You better fucking call meevery day,or I’m going to find you and kick the snot out of you.”
I smiled in spite of myself. “There’s terrible reception up north. Most of Maine is a dead zone. I couldn’t call you every day unless I was camping in downtown Portland, and I’d rather not talk to another person for at least two weeks.”
He crossed his arms and glared at me. “Are you going into the woods to detox from Tiel, or are you going to do something stupid?”
The keys dangled from my fingers while I considered my response. I didn’t know what was going to happen when I got in the truck, and I liked it that way. I just wanted to go and be gone. I’d figure out the rest later.
