I heard the click of the turn signal and peeled open an eye. “What are you doing?” I asked when Ryan got off at the next exit. “You’re supposed to keep going.”
“There’s a gas station right off the highway.”
“We have a full tank.”
“I want to check the weather.”
Oh. It was probably something we should have done before we left Queens, but I had been too antsy to hit the road.
I didn’t realize how tightly I was holding on to the console until Ryan’s hand covered mine.
Fluorescent light blinded me as he pulled off the road and parked beneath the awning by a gas pump, shielding us from the downpour.
Ryan grabbed his phone and scrolled, but never let go of my hand. Piercing alarms startled us both as a flash flood warning was plastered across the screen. I hurried to silence my phone while he did the same with his.
Still, he never let go.
Ryan’s frustrated sigh cut through the rain pelting the pavement. “We need to take a different route.”
“Why?”
He turned his phone and showed me the weather radar. A torrential storm covered the majority of Pennsylvania, Ohio,and Indiana. We would be driving through it for nearly twelve hours.
“It’s just rain,” I said as my throat tightened.
Ryan’s eyes were kind, glowing in shades of amber under the gas station lights. “It’s not just rain, Wills.”
Our eyes met for a split second when I realized that he saw my fear and honored it.
I turned to stare out the window again. A minute later, he squeezed my hand to get my attention, then passed me his phone. “This way takes us back down through Philly, through DC, and across West Virginia. It’ll add a few hours, but I think it’s a better option. The forecast looks clear that way. And since we’re driving overnight, the traffic through the cities shouldn’t be that bad.”
I sighed as I studied the route. “It addshoursto the drive.”
“Twenty-four hours versus nineteen hours isn’t a big difference. But doing it in the rain for most of it is.”
Ryan was dancing around the obvious, and I was fine with that. I had done plenty of road trips in torrential downpours. Rain had never scared me.
But now it did.
“Sleep,” he said, reaching into the back and handing me his pillow—the one he had thrown into the car because he claimed he hated sleeping on any pillow that wasn’t his. “I’ll wake you up when I need to tap out.”
I curled the pillow in half and wedged it between the seat and the door. “You sure?”
He put the car into drive and eased out of the gas station lot. “I’m sure.”
Ryan’s gentle reassurance was everything I didn’t know I needed. I readjusted my seatbelt and laid my head on the pillow. The soft cotton case smelled just like him—crisp and clean witha woodsy note from his cologne. It was the hug I needed as I closed my eyes.
“Hey, Ry?” I yawned.
I felt his hand wrap around my knee again. “Whatcha need, cupcake?”
“Nothing,” I said softly. “Just . . . thank you.”
Warm beamsof light crept over mountain peaks as my little sedan dipped and swerved through curving roads. Halos of sunshine echoed in patterns as the rays danced across the windshield.
I groaned as I tilted my neck. Dull pain immediately lanced through my shoulder. Sleeping upright in the car was always a terrible idea.
The car bumped and jolted as the tires hit a pothole. “Where are we?” I rasped. My mouth felt like it had been filled with cotton. I sat up and tried to blink away the protein coating my eyes, but it was futile. Between car sleep and crying, a headache was a given.
