“Oh, shut up, Wilder.” Cash smiles. “You’re going.”
Wilder’s eyes find mine.
“You’re going,” I tell him.
“Should we hug it out?” Wilder proposes as he opens his arms.
Cash and I step forward.
Somehow, in the middle of a neighborhood in Southern California, in the middle of a hug, whatever was broken starts healing.
And somehow, the only person I have to thank for that is the last person who deserves it.
Fanny freaking Allred.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Three Amigos
Ingrid
We aren’t stopping to stay the night anywhere. We’ve all been taking turns driving and sleeping in the backseat. Wilder wants to get home. He hasn’t said it out loud, but we both know why.
He wants to say goodbye to Margot.
Or, at the very least, be there for Elowyn when she has to.
I reach for his hand. He’s fast asleep in the passenger seat, but some part of me needs him. Needs to feel the warmth of his skin as the sun starts to rise on the horizon, coloring the sky gold and garnet.
I wish there was a way to slow time down. So that I could live in this moment as long as possible.
Right now, everything is fine. Margot is still alive. Elowyn hasn’t lost her mom yet. Archibald and his illicit affairs are miles away.
When we get home, reality hits. Hard and fast.
Who even knows if I’ll have a room.
Cash stirs in the seat behind me, and I take a sobering breath.
“Coffee?” he says as he sits up and stares at me in the rearview mirror.
We pass the Cadillac Ranch sign and I nod. “How do you feel about a little detour first?”
Cash groans. “Fine.”
Like he even has a choice.
I take the exit as the sun starts to rise higher.
Wilder shifts, his body reacting to the car slowing down.
“Wh-where are we?” he asks, groggy.
“We are making a stop at Cadillac Ranch,” I tell him. “We have some leftover spray paint. I thought we could write something.”
“Something like what?” Cash scoffs.
I roll my eyes as I park. “We could write a word or a name or something that sums up this trip.”
