“Junk food?”
“Yup,” I say. “Because—” I snatch the book from the purse by Kate’s feet. “I can eat whatever I want and still look like this guy.”
Kate’s scowl splotches pink.
“Uncanny, isn’t it?” I smirk, patting my hard-earned abs beneath my knit black sweater.
She yanks the book out of my hands and stuffs it away.
Winding our way toward Shawnee National Forest, a tiny part of my brain wonders if the complicated girl beside me is stillworthall this trouble.
But my heart is another story, and it isn’t concerned one bit about Kate’s worth.
It’s about mine.
KATE
Shawnee National Forest looks like a snow globe beneath a heavy gray sky. The skeletal trees are dusted with snow, and the few pines dotting the road are sprinkled with more. I check the map on Brandon’s phone, which hangs suspended on a mount on the dash.
Forty minutes left.
What was supposed to be a five hour trip has turned into six—thanks to Brandon missing an exit—and I really have to pee again. The gas station tofu salad I inhaled was barely edible, but it was one of the only nutritional choices at that forsaken establishment. An echo of hunger continues to twist the edges of my stomach, but I would rather run barefoot through the snow than ask Brandon for a bite of his chemical-soaked junk food.
I examine Brandon on the periphery of my vision. His jaw is tense, his eyes laser focused on the road. Earbuds poke out of his ears. I assume he’s listening to music, or perhaps an audiobook. There’s no indication across his phone screen of what media is playing.
Closing my eyes, I squirm against my backrest. My bladder pulses like it has a heartbeat, and my butt has gone numb. I wasn’t kidding when I said I didn’t want another stop, but I’m wholly regretting that decision. But pride keeps my mouth shut and my pelvic floor straining.
I crack an eye and peer at Brandon again. He’s about thirty-eightounces deep into a soda, so unless his bladder is made of the same reinforced steel as the rest of his muscles, he probably needs to pee too.
I smirk, but it vanishes as my bladder wrenches again.
I long for the gas station we stopped at after Brandon brought up Tanner. Yeah, I was already sad from the mention of Liza and Cam, but him speaking about Tanner pushed me over the edge.
Because thanks to Brandon’s little speech before the Winthrop dinner, I’m all alone.
Again.
Echoes of congratulations glitter in my mind like the crystal at Liza’s engagement party last week. I had a first row seat to her epic love story and my parents’ glowing admiration of them both. And like the coward I am, I chalked up Tanner’s absence to him working late.
Running from my problems is making me exhausted. Not to mention, returning home to an empty condo at night with Hopefully Yours still out there doesn’t exactly warrant a good night’s rest.
The novel I’ve been reading forresearchwinks up from the purse by my feet. I aim a tiny kick at The Blacksmith and The Orchardess for filling my brain with optimistic ideals of love, and my empty salad container beside it squeaks in alarm.
Brandon fishes out an earbud, glancing at me. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Brandon’s gaze trails over me as I squirm in my seat. “You have to pee, don’t you?”
“Maybeyouhave to pee,” I say, defensive.
He chuckles. “Oh, love. We gotta work on your comebacks. That was just awful.”
A laugh rolls out before I can stop it. “You’reawful.”
“Please,” he chuckles again, “just stop. You’re only proving my point.”
“Well, maybe I can’t think straight when I’m so full of urine,” I say.
