“You wouldn’t have brought it up if you hadn’t already thought ofsomething.”
Pete chuckled and shook his head. “Not this time. I was hoping you’d do the thinkingforme.”
I couldn’t tell if he was serious about the last part, but his pensive gaze told me he didn’t have all the answers. “You worktoomuch.”
“Sodoyou.”
I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. “Not like you do. I still have time for myself—to do the things Iwantto do. When was the last time you did something that wasn’t for someone else’sbenefit?”
“I’m notworkingnow.”
“No, but you’re here because Portland is somewhere I needtobe.”
Pete said nothing, clearly turning it over in his mind, but I knew I was right. Pete had been burdened by responsibility since long before I’d known him, and he’d forgotten how to let it go—even for a just a fewhours.
“You think I should take somevacationtime?”
I shrugged. “Maybe, but then what? Go back and work yourself into the groundagain?”
“I can’tnotwork, Ash. I’d lose myfuckingmind.”
“You’ve lost italready.”
Pete whistled. “Harsh.”
“I was kidding, but I kindameantit.”
“Iknow.”
He didn’t say anything else for a while. I tried to focus on the road and not let my anxiety take over—a tough request when my heart was already fluttering. I white-knuckled the steering wheel and forced myself to breathe from deep in my belly. Pete’s hand on my leg stopped me from flippingmyshit.
Or did it? In the past, I’d believed him to be the only thing keeping me together, but I’d learned in recent years to own the strength I’d had back then. And I couldn’t fight Pete’s recovery battle for him now, any more than hecouldmine.
Hours later, or at least that’s what it felt like, Pete squeezed my thigh. “Don’t panic, fucker. We’ll think ofsomething.”
* * *
“This placesucks.”
“Uh-huh.” I followed Pete’s gaze around the campground and had to agree. The site Jed had recommended had been full, so we’d opted for the next one we came across. Big mistake. “Is that a fratparty?”
“I fucking hope not.” Pete dumped our sleeping bags on the mattress in the back of the van. “I need a shower, and I might kill someone if there’s silly string and beer bongseverywhere.”
I didn’t doubt it. I also didn’t doubt there was no way I was using the communal shower on my own. If Pete was going for a shower, so was I. And even without the showers, I didn’t want to be away from himrightnow.
If he noticed me trailing him like a lost puppy, it didn’t show. We each took a quick turn in the worst bathroom I’d seen in years and then retreated to the van. On the way, we passed a few groups of college-aged kids. I was set to ignore them until someone calledmyname.
A scrawny kid got up from a nearby campfire and came towards us. In a flash, Pete was in front of me. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew him well enough to know that his glare would be epic. “What do youwant,kid?”
“Um… an autograph?” The kid held out a sketchbook. “I follow you on Instagram, dude. You’re, like, myfreakin’hero.”
Fucking Instagram. The running of the studio account had nothing to do with me, but it was a rare day that I wasn’t plastered all over it one way or another. I accepted it as part of my job, but it still startled me when people all over the world recognized my face. Especially in the dark when I had a goddamned hat pulled pretty much down tomychin.
I stepped around Pete and signed the kid’s sketchbook asFagin, the moniker I’d adopted for my tattoo work, street art, and beyond. “There you go. Have a nicenight.”
“You too. Thank yousomuch.”
The kid returned to his buddies. Pete watched him with an expression I couldn’t decipher, and then as we turned back to the van, he sighed. “I don’t like it when oddballs get up in your face, but I like that youlikeit.”
