The Hearts We Sold(52)

Dee listened to the sound of his breathing. She couldn’t see him in the pitch-black, but the occasional whispers of clothing and breath were enough to lull her to sleep.

She woke the next morning, her left arm folded beneath her. She tried to shake off the numbness, sitting up and peering around the car. The sky was light now, white with that predawn glow. James was already sitting up, looking alert but rumpled.

“Where are we?” she said, struggling out from under the blanket. She stepped out of the car in her bare feet, carefully picking her way across the pavement. James had parked on an overlook. There was one other car, a red VW bus with bright yellow curtains.

“Interstate 84,” said James. “No idea how far we went, though.”

She’d read once that the Columbia River Gorge had spent millions of years being carved out by water and wind. But those descriptions didn’t do it justice. Sheer cliff faces rose all around her, the yellow rocks dappled with deep shadows. On her left was a craggy bluff. The wind had scoured away most of the greenery, leaving behind only a few rugged shrubs and bushes. On her right, ancient train tracks stood between her and the wide expanse of the Columbia River. Across the wide river was a sheer, yellow face of naked rock. She felt impossibly small, insignificant next to the towering peaks of raw stone.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

James came to stand next to her. Already, the wind had picked up and his tousled hair was dragged across his eyes. “You never came here before?”

“Not really,” said Dee. “Not a whole lot of family vacations at my house.”

She spoke thoughtlessly, unprepared for how the words would hurt. James knew. He knew. Not even Gremma knew. Dee had tucked away her home life, shoved it far out of sight and mind, hoped that no one would ever see it.

But James didn’t rise to the bait. He dug into his jeans, came up with the car keys, and offered them to her. “You want to drive?”





They continued east.

James pointed out a small town and she swerved onto an off-ramp, drawn in by the logo of a fast-food joint. They didn’t bother to go inside—a drive-through breakfast was good enough. Dee found herself holding the steering wheel with one hand and using the other to balance an egg-white sandwich. James tried to order a milk shake, but Dee put her foot down, getting orange juice and plenty of coffee. James ate pancakes out of a Styrofoam box, plastic fork in hand. The food was too oily and salty, and the coffee was so sharp it made Dee’s teeth hurt. But the discomfort was the best kind—she sipped the horrible coffee and felt more alive than she had in months.

They returned to the interstate. Driving along I-84 left little room for conversation. The road had sweeping heights and dangerous curves, and they were nearly always in sight of the river. James sat with his feet on the dashboard, his window slightly cracked.

At one point, Dee’s phone buzzed.

why did you miss school, came Gremma’s text.

“Text back,” said Dee. “Just say road trip.”

“Your roommate won’t rat you out?” asked James.

Dee snorted and waited for Gremma’s reply. Sure enough, it said:

WITHOUT ME, YOU BITCH?

“Gremma encourages bad behavior,” said Dee simply. “It means she has more company.”

James laughed. “I like her.”

“Don’t get ideas. First off, she doesn’t do boys. Second, she would swallow you whole and hack up your bones like an owl.” A pause. “Then again, you might go for that kind of thing.”

James’s grin widened. “Why do you assume I’d go for the scary girls?”

“Because you sold your heart to a demon.”

“Fair point.”

Part of Dee felt she should have been at Brannigan. She should’ve been in classes, doing homework, living out her normal life. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t pretend to be fine—and it was freeing to realize she didn’t have to. In this car, she was safely removed from her real life.

They arrived at their destination around midday. James was driving again, and he turned onto 730 East, toward the Washington border. She saw the sign for the upcoming town and raised her eyebrows.

“Walla Walla?”

James shrugged one shoulder. “I like any town that sounds like it could be named after a Muppet,” he said blandly.

Dee stared at him. “Really?”

A smile broke across his face. “Come on. Out of all the things I’ve said, that has to be the most normal. Besides, we need to stop somewhere. I figure this is as good a place as any.”

They found a hotel on the edge of town. It was a chain, plain and standard, with the promise of a continental breakfast in the morning.

They ventured inside the room together; neither had luggage, which made Dee feel oddly unburdened. It was clean and neat, with some Western theme to it, all the fabrics and paints in varying shades of orange and brown.

Two queen beds. “I get the one next to the bathroom,” said James.

Dee gave him a hard look. “Way to be gallant.”

“Actually,” he replied, “the one closer to the bathroom is nearer to the door. Should anyone break in, they’ve got to go through me first.”

She fought back a smile. “Are you anticipating a break-in?”

“Hey, that would be tame, considering our lives.”