He groans as he merges onto another road.
With each mile under his belt, his stiff posture relaxes into the worn fabric seat until we are cruising through Texas and into New Mexico in record time. The dry landscape around us seems almost barren compared to our beautiful green mountains back home. Now that there are fewer twists and turns, Tristen clicks on the radio and starts tapping to the beat as we drive along. Meanwhile, I’ve already reserved two campgrounds for my brother’s honeymoon trip. Most have beautiful views and hiking spots near a national park. I couldn’t find a library for Maya, so I plan to write up a separate map of Little Free Libraries. Since they’ve only allotted two weeks for their honeymoon, their route might not cover as muchground as Des expects, especially now that I know how exhausting it is to set up and tear down the motorhome. They will want some relaxing days mixed in with the travel days.
“You’re awfully quiet. What are you working on over there?” Tristen asks.
“I’m researching campgrounds for the honeymoon.”
I jot a reminder in my notebook about adding a day of cushion between each campground.
“You have to do that too? Drive the RV back, fix it, and plan the route? Seems like a lot.”
“I want to do it. It’s my wedding gift for them. Julia is helping me make an envelope for each location. So they won’t know where they are going until they open it up.”
Tristen tilts his head and nods. “Huh. Des didn’t want to plan out the trip? He’s not that big on surprises.”
“Oh, he doesn’t have a say in the matter.” I doodle a flower on the corner of the page. “He can look at the camper when we arrive later today, but he’ll have to wait until the big reveal with Maya to see all the paint, upgrades, and decorations. I want it to be a special moment they can treasure together.”
“I’m sure it will be. But where are you storing this monster while you fix it up?”
“Another mechanic friend in Golden said I could store it in their parking lot. It’s a bit far, but?—”
“Why don’t you store it in my yard?”
Rocosa has two distinct neighborhoods: the wealthy housing at the top of the mountain where investors, celebrities, and business moguls live, then closer to town and more bunched together is the lower income housing where everyone else lives. Tristen lives in his old family home down at the end of our street. Much nicer than Granny’s old trailer, but not as fancy as Des’s modern home he recently remodeled.
Now my teeny tiny apartment? Apparently I’m so poor I can’t even afford a house in the lower income section. Lewistakes a hundred dollars out of my paycheck for rent and calls us even.
Plus, Tristen’s property is the largest plot on our street. Rumors circulated that one family gambled away their deed in a cutthroat game of poker, thereby doubling the size of the Davis family property. While the second house has fallen into ruin and crumbled over time, the old stable from the early 1900s still stands, a little worse for wear.
“I guess I could. Maya doesn’t visit you as much. I’ll ask Nova if she can give me a ride after I get off work.”
“Why would you ask her when I’m here? Especially since you live right across the street from Cliffys.”
“This could take weeks for me to repair,” I say, picking at a loose end of paper. “I thought you’d be kinda sick of me by the time we get back.”
“That’s the thing about us, Reese. We might argue all the time, but we always find our center. Our friendship is made of tougher stuff than that.”
“Why does this sound like a country song?”
He rolls his eyes with a sigh. “The point is, I’m not sick of you and I’m offering my help. If you want it, that is.”
“I do. Thank you.”
He brushes his hand across his beard. “Sorry I was a little snappy earlier. As you know, sometimes it’s hard when you’re jarred awake on minimal sleep. I’m feeling better now.”
“Why were you up so late?”
“You gave me a lot to think about. What do I want in life?”
I turn to look at him, waiting for his answer.
He notices my intense stare. “Oh. I don’t have the answer yet. All I know is that I just need change. Rocosa has become a little stagnant lately. Working at the bar and going home to play video games, rinse and repeat. I need something new.”
“Is that why you wanted to be an audiobook narrator?”
“I didn’t want to be anything. Chantelle was at Cliffys one night, and she said she liked the sound of my voice?—”
My hands squeeze my notebook before I can stop them, and I force them to uncurl.
