In my peripheral vision, I see Micah raise both his hands.
“You…you know I was joking, right? Of course we don't…I know that that's dangerous. I didn't mean—”
“No, I know,” I interrupt. I even manage to pry one of my hands free to tentatively place it on his leg in return. It feels awkward as hell, but I don't know what else to do.
I cannot keep driving like this, when every mile that brings us closer to my parents curls like a vice around my chest. If we arrive at the farm and I behave like this, my parents will instantly know something is wrong—and convincing them Micah isn’t my boyfriend will be the least of my worries then.
“I…there's something else you need to know before we get to...” I nod off into the darkness that still lies ahead of us.
Micah opens his mouth, but then bites his lip.
I'm grateful he doesn't make any guesses and lets me take my time.
“My…my parents don't know,” I start, holding up a hand before he can voice the obvious guess—which would be wrong. Everyone in my family knows I'm gay. This is a much worse secret than that. “They think I'm still doing an agricultural major. I never told them that I switched and plan to become a vet.”
Micah blinks a few times, having obviously expected something very different. He raises his hands higher, pulling off his cap with one and raking through his hair with the other.
“Oof, that…okay?”
I stay quiet, trying to figure out whether I'm relieved or even more worried now. It's my most guarded secret, and as always with secrets, the more people know, the harder it is to keep.
“And…and you didn't want to tell your parents because…?”
I huff out a bitter laugh. My stomach turns over, and I suddenly wish I hadn't drunk all of the Pepsi.
“My dad always wanted me to take over the farm. Especially now that all my sisters are married. And after his accident, hewouldn't stop mentioning it. I mean—he's not even sixty yet and talking like he's days from keeling over!” It bursts out of me; I wish I could stop. Micah doesn't deserve having to carry all of my burdens on top of his own.
Especially because he must have expected a light-hearted summer fling, and instead he got me. Neurotic, secret-keeping me.
“They already didn't think I'd need a degree. I mean, not like I'd have to apply for the job, but I needed—Iwantedto get away sobadlyand the classes were just soboringand-and then I just…switched and never told them because I could justhearwhat they were going to say, but I also needed the money and now I'm so close, I only need to make this semester and then I can work part time while doing the MCATS andthenapply to a vet school and—”
Micah is once again reaching for me, though this time he's pulling my hands away from the steering wheel. I hadn't even noticed I was gripping it tightly enough that my fingers ache. I slowly wrap them around Micah’s instead of the wheel. His hands are warm under my palm, like holding a fresh cup of coffee on a cold day. The warmth seeps slowly up my arms, and I bite my tongue.
“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put all that on you. And…and I'm sorry that I kept this from you.”
“I didn't actually forget to get my car repaired,” Micah says, not quite interrupting me, but his voice is sure and strong, whereas mine was frail and frantic.
I struggle to catch up to the change of topic, staring blankly for a few moments.
Micah's lips quirk up when my eyes finally meet his. “I simply don’t have the money to get it fixed right now.”
“Whu-oh.” My mouth drops open.
“And when Nicko offered me his room—I knew I could never afford it even with my scholarship, so I was actually glad Olli had already asked someone else,” Micah continues.
“What…what are you doing?”
“Sharing secrets,” Micah replies, winking at me as he holds my other hand, his thumb brushing along the lines in my palm.
“Because I get why you don't talk about some things. And don't worry, I won't tell your parents, I promise.” He brings my hand up and uses my fingers to cross his heart.
The inexplicable desire to kiss him tingles right under my skin. Instead, I awkwardly pat his leg again, trying not to notice how he’s staring at me. I reach down and turn the key in the ignition.
“Alright, enough delays!” Thankfully, the radio pops back on to cover my fake cheer with another country classic.Get us home, country roadsindeed.
Micah, June 26th-27th
It’s past 11 p.m. when Linden finally turns onto a long gravel driveway. The truck’s headlights sweep over a row of fence posts; then I see the sign:Woodrow.
