“You have free will, Reese. Nobody made you raise that drink to your mouth.”
“I’m not talking about that,” I snap, slamming my palms on the table so hard that the vibrations hum through my bones. “I’m talking about Granny. How could someone so wonderful, so faithful, have been taken so suddenly? I don’t understand it.”
“We aren’t meant to live on earth forever.”
Unable to breathe with the onset of tears clamping my throat, I shoot to my feet. “That’s not a good enough answer for me. I loved her more than anything and now she’s gone.”
The deep ache throbs in my heart. A pain I’ve spent years trying to ignore.
“I miss her too.” He places his hand over mine and squeezes. We stay like that for a few minutes, grieving in the silence. “I didn’t mean to upset you by bringing it up.”
“I went to the cemetery today, so it’s still fresh.”
“Oh. Did you go in this time?”
“No.” I sigh.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”
I shrug, hating to admit that I need his—or anyone’s—help. “Maybe. We could go when I get back from Texas.”
“Be honest. Are you sure I’m not asking too much of you with the RV?”
“No. I want to do it. Consider it my wedding gift—the labor and retrieval service is free. When do I need to leave?”
“How about this Friday? There’s a three-day weekend next week, so maybe Lewis won’t miss you.”
“You’re right. The auto shop is closed for Labor Day.”
“How does this sound—I’ll buy you a plane ticket down there and you drive the RV up.”
“Fly to Amarillo?” I pull out my phone and search nextweek’s plane fares. “Des... the tickets are a little pricey. Maybe I could take the bus down instead.” I compare the bus information, and my eyebrows shoot up at the difference in price. “Wow. It’s way cheaper.”
“The bus? That doesn’t sound safe.”
“People use it all the time. I’d be doing the same thing I would on a plane, sit until I reach my destination. How hard can it be? Plus, it’s crazy cheap. With the money you save on airfare, I can spruce up the RV’s interior and make it cozy and romantic.”
“Hmm, I do like the idea of saving money, and I know Maya would appreciate the new decor. Are you sure? That’s more work than I planned for.”
“It keeps me busy, and you know I love a good project.” When he hesitates, I whisper, “Trust me. I can do this.”
“I know you can. Ok, let’s book it. This works out perfectly. With everything on my plate with the wedding and midterms at school, removing any task, no matter the size, will help keep me sane.” He covers my hand with his. “Thank you, Reese.”
And for the first time in a while, it feels like I didn’t screw things up.
Friday arrives in record time. My suitcase has sat for three days by my door, packed and ready to go, mostly with extra spare parts I ordered should I need them. It’s the first time I’ve left Colorado or been anywhere on my own. My stomach buzzes with nerves, yet I can’t stop smiling at the adventure that lies ahead.
I check my notes for the umpteenth time. As long as the driver stays on schedule, the Greyhound bus will leave Denver Union Station at 8:10 p.m. and arrive in Amarillo, Texas, at 5:45 a.m. Gary Snead and his motorhome should be waiting for me in the parking lot.
A simple, foolproof plan.
I race down the stairs with my backpack slung over my shoulder and a thermos of hot coffee in hand. None of that frou-frou nonsense—just straight up caffeine to keep me awake for the long ride. No way am I taking the chance of falling asleep and missing my destination. I also loaded Maya’s new favorite Evie Chandler audiobook to occupy my time, but I suspect I’ll be watching RV repair videos instead.
It’s eerily quiet in the garage, my footsteps echoing off the walls. The darkened windows summon the blurred memories of the night Burns broke in and tried to “win me back” by forcing me into his car. Goosebumps prickle down my arms. I try to avoid coming in here after dark, especially alone, since the attack. I flick on a few more lights and instantly feel better, and I start searching the tool bench for a few extra tools and add them into my suitcase. But before I zip out, I write Lewis a note to remind him,again, that I’ll be gone for the three-day weekend.
If it weren’t for me, Lewis wouldn’t remember what day it was. He’s one heck of a mechanic and took me under his wing when he saw my potential in high school. But that man can’t remember dates or appointments unless I tape them to his forehead. He’s probably already forgotten about the holiday weekend.
Heading to the door, I hesitate and gnaw on my bottom lip. An unexplainable feeling washes over me, like something is about to happen.
