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Once we settled in our room, we both climbed into bed, huffs of relief mixing into the room around us. I need touch and comfort, so I pull his arm around me and pretend it’s not him who’s holding me.

“Every time we end up somewhere, it brings me back.”

“Back to what?”

“My mom and our two backpacks of clothes. We did this every night until I was ten, when she finally saved up enough money to buy a house. She took us all over the place, not wanting to settle down anywhere. She was too restless.”

“Traveling like that must’ve been nice.”

“No… I mean, it was fine, because I didn’t really understand that it wasn’t normal. But security was never really there.”

“You think I’m like her?” He asks, voice breathing, into my hair. “Keeping you from security? Dragging you from hotel to hotel.”

“Maybe. I was able to cut off a relationship with her; I’m not sure I can with you.”

“No?”

I shake my head, nuzzling further into my pillow. “As much as I want to hate you, somehow I get dragged back under. I don’t know what it is.”

“Possibly love?” He tickles my ribs as he teases, and I wriggle under his touch, a smile present.

“Probably not,” I laugh, shoving his fingers from the spot, wrapping my hand around his to hold his fingers down. I pull his fist against my body, holding it there tightly.

With his body wrapped around mine, the fear seems to subside, and I’ve never felt so much security.

23

Darling

Iawake to the feeling of my body jostling around without resistance. I whine low in my throat, wanting the shaking to stop; I hate waking up when I know what the day will entail. It’ll be nothing more than endlessly sitting in a car looking over our shoulders.

“Wynnie.” The sound of Preston’s voice startles me.

A groan festers as I attempt to pull the blanket over my head. “No. Go away, I need sleep.”

“You need to see this,” he insists, tug-of-war-ing the blanket.

“Are there police?”

“No.”

“Then let me sleep.”

“Just trust me. Come on.”

I sigh, kicking the remainder of the comforter from my feet. I rub my eyes when I stand, slightly off balance, but Preston is already at the door, still in his sweatpants and no shirt. While I’m probably a mess from just waking up, hair everywhere, drool dried on my cheek, I’m sure, yet Preston looks at me as though I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

It makes my chest tight.

He takes my hand without a word, leading me out of the hotel to the back of the building. I follow behind him, still half-asleep, expecting him to show me something important. Maybe a map that has a better route out of town or a new car to drive.

Instead, I see wildflowers. Hundreds of them, thousands even, spilling across the dirt field. Yellow, orange, and white flowers nod gently in the morning breeze, their petals catching the early light. It’s like the earth opened up overnight and offered us some purity.

“This… is so pretty.”

“Those orange ones, they’re desert marigolds. Happens after the rain. Sometimes their seeds lie dormant for years, waiting for the precise conditions to bloom.”

I stare up at him in awe. “How do you know that?”