Girl Out of Water(66)

“Not everyone runs away,” Dad says.

I look at him sharply. “I know that.”

“Lincoln doesn’t seem like the type to disappear.”

“I know.”

But after this summer, after falling off the grid, ignoring my friends, I can’t help but think Lincoln might not be the type to disappear, but what if I am?

? ? ?

Twenty minutes later my phone beeps, announcing Lincoln’s arrival. I text him back, telling him I’ll be outside in a second. Dad and I head to the front door.

“Here.” He pulls a small folded envelope from his back pocket and hands it to me.

“What’s this?”

“A little emergency money…or, if there aren’t any emergencies, a little ‘have a great trip money.’”

“Thanks, Dad.” I hug him. It lasts longer than usual and takes a bit of willpower to pull away.

“Drive safe and text updates. Hourly.” He scratches his thick hair. “Actually, make that half hourly.”

I nod in agreement. “Promise.”

I turn to open the front door, and as I do, two figures hurdle down the stairs. “Slow down, Parker!” Dad and I warn at the same time.

“Is he going for a set of broken arms?” I mutter.

The boys get to the bottom of the landing and stare at me with agitated eyes. “You were going to leave without saying good-bye,” Nash accuses.

“Yeah, not cool.” Parker agrees.

Instead of pointing out that I did say good-bye last night, I say, “Very not cool of me. I agree.” Then I bend down to hug both of them, being extra careful of Parker’s broken arm.

It’ll be strange to wake up tomorrow morning without these shaggy-haired nuisances trailing my every step. I’ve gotten used to having three shadows instead of just the one.

“We got you something,” Nash says.

“Yeah, give it to her.” Parker nudges him.

“Wait, I don’t have it. You do!”

“No, I don’t! You do!”

“No you—”

“Guys, seriously,” another voice cuts in. Emery emerges at the top of the stairs, carrying a small, square package in hand. “I have it.”

She trots down the stairs and passes the package to me. The boys chant, “Open it! Open it!”

I tear at the newspaper wrapping to find a CD labeled ANISE AND LINCOLN’S AWESOME ROAD TRIP MIX. The illustration features Lincoln and me rushing down the highway in his open-top Jeep. Most of the songs are road trip themed, like Halsey’s “Drive,” but halfway down the list I notice “No Night to Sleep,” my favorite Motel/Hotel song.

“They helped pick out the music,” Emery says.

“When you’d let us,” Nash says in a dark tone.

“Oh,” I say, my throat tight, and not in that I-just-woke-up-and-need-water kind of way or even in the Dad-put-too-much-jalape?o-in-the-omelet kind of way.

Parker and Nash stare up at me expectantly. Emery toys with the cotton ties of her pajama bottoms, but I know she’s waiting for my reaction too.

“It’s perfect. It’s really, really perfect. Thank you guys.”

“We’ll miss you.” Parker and Nash jump forward and hug me again.

“You will?” I ask, my voice muffled by their hair.

“Yeah,” Emery says, and I catch her eye and a small smile. “We really will.”

? ? ?

I stuff my luggage in the back of Lincoln’s Jeep. He put all the windows and roof panels back on, probably so we don’t get caught open-topped in a torrential downpour as we speed down the highway. I climb into the passenger seat and hand Lincoln the CD. “Does this mean we get to listen to something besides Bruce Springsteen?”

“Absolutely.” He grins, dimple popping, and I think of the first time I saw that dimple and how it was attached to a cute stranger, and now only weeks later I’m driving halfway across the country with that same dimple. Lincoln inserts the CD. The Beatles’ “The Long and Winding Road” plays.

“How appropriate,” Lincoln says, then frowns. “Though it’s more like the long and very straight road.” He grabs a mug from the cup holder, takes a sip, then offers it to me. “Want some?” he asks.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Tea.”

He hands it to me, and I take a sip. “Fuck, that’s delicious.” Even better than the green tea Dad made me this morning. “What is it?”

Lincoln smiles. “Remember our first adventure? The wild bergamot I grabbed?”

I take another sip and let the flavor wash through me. That first day at the river seems so long ago; it makes me realize how much I’ve settled into this new place. As Lincoln pulls out of the driveway, I lean my head against the cool window and stare at the houses we past. When I first arrived, they all looked like cookie-cutter homes, but now I can spot the differences in each one of them.

“You okay?” Lincoln asks.

“Just tired.” I know I should be bubbling with enthusiasm, sneaking a kiss to Lincoln’s smooth cheek, rambling on about all of the amazing things we’re going to do at Surf Break, but I can’t muster the enthusiasm. Because the thing is, as we pull out of the neighborhood and toward the highway, I can only think of Parker, Nash, Emery, Aunt Jackie, and Dad.