“In Virginia, south of DC.” Ryan glanced at the GPS. “We’ll head through West Virginia soon.”
I nodded and tried to swallow, but my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. After a moment of mental preparation for the stiff ache in my bones to ricochet as soon as I moved, I sat up and put Ryan’s pillow in the backseat.
Ryan caught my hand in his before I could move it off the center console. “How’d you sleep?”
I didn’t bother jerking my hand away. The morning light had a way of bringing my shadows out of the darkness. The gesturewas the only thing that kept me grounded as thoughts of Shep flooded my mind.
“Fine,” I said with a yawn. “I’m sorry I was out for so long.”
“It’s all right.” His gaze flicked to the gas gauge. “We need to find somewhere to stop. We need gas, breakfast, and caffeine, or my eyes are gonna betray me.”
“I can drive so you can sleep.” I squeezed his hand. “I know you didn’t wake up yesterday intending to pull an all-nighter and drive halfway across the country.”
Ryan cracked a smile as he flicked the turn signal and followed a sign to Honey Hollow, Virginia. “I think the best moments in life happen when we don’t plan them.”
“Says the man with the twelve-step plan.”
His answering chuckle was tired. “The Ford Method isn’t the whole picture, cupcake. It’s an outline. You have to color it in yourself. The twelve steps are what you make of them.”
We coasted into an old gas station that looked like it had been shined up to its former glory. Crisp red and white pumps sported rotary counters instead of digital screens. A vintage Coca-Cola sign hung proudly from the clean siding. The whole thing looked like an advertisement for nostalgia.
While Ryan jogged inside to use the bathroom and pay for the gas with my card, I eased out of the car and stretched. The morning air was clean and refreshing. I rolled my neck, trying to get the kink out of it, but it was no use. Text messages from Whitney and Wander littered my phone.
In the chaos of getting Lisa’s call, arguing with Ryan about traveling together, then packing and leaving that night, I hadn’t told them that Shep was gone.
My finger hovered over the screen as I tried to find the words to tell them what happened. Two would have sufficed.Shep died.They wouldn’t need further explanation and would understand why I had gone silent.
But for all they knew, I was on my way to Michigan without Ryan instead of Kansas with him, by way of small-town Virginia.
Bells chimed as the door to the gas station opened and closed. Ryan looked devastatingly handsome in his gym shorts, sneakers, and t-shirt. His hair was disheveled from driving all night. It was unfair, really. No man should look that good after driving for hours.
“Need anything from inside?” he asked as he popped open the gas cap and shoved the pump in.
I watched the analogue gallon counter spin like a game show wheel. “I’m all right.”
Ryan opened the back door and rifled through his backpack, pulling out a little bottle of hand sanitizer, his contact case, and solution. He sanitized his hands, then swapped his contacts for glasses. I could see the redness in his eyes then. Wearing them for nearly twenty-four hours must have been awful.
The glasses . . . did something to me. Something that I didn’t want to admit. They were hot. It was another layer to who he was.
I had always liked Clark Kent more than Superman, anyway.
“The gas station owner said there’s a little diner a mile down the road. Solid breakfast and good coffee. Do you want hot food or gas station snacks?”
My growling stomach answered for me as the pump shut off. I hadn’t eaten much yesterday, and I needed something filling if we were going to make the long-haul part of the trip today.
Ryan took the passenger’s seat and I hopped behind the wheel. True to his word, there was a diner just down the road. Well, the sign was for a diner. The diner was a house.
“The parking lot’s packed, so I’m gonna take that as a good sign,” Ryan said as he unbuckled.
I glanced at the grass in front of the house. “That’s a yard.”
Ryan chuckled. “Live a little. Maybe you’ll get some book inspiration.”
Mountain Mama’s was exactly what I had thought it was from outside—a house that had been emptied out and filled with vinyl booths and four-top tables. What I assumed had once been the living room was turned into the main dining room. A second dining space was in the actual dining room. The only barrier between patrons and cooks was the formica countertop that served as a bar for single guests and to-go orders.
An older woman who had a lit cigarette tucked behind her ear whisked Ryan and me into a corner booth. “Mornin’, kids. Whatcha want?”
I looked around for a menu while Ryan did the same.
