Page 17 of Every Beautiful Mile

I shake my head. I’ve heard the story a million times, but my mom’s love of it never really gets old.

Marin beams as she shows my parents the new and improved Avion in the driveway. It had taken us three months, but we made it. After tireless hours scouring flea markets and thrift stores, the Avion had returned to its 1978 glory.

We painted the inside a creamy white and layered on textures of polyester, macrame, and a burnt orange shag rug. It almost makes me laugh at how good it looks after I hated it so much when Travis brought it home.

Finn leans on the side of the hood, disinterested, as he scrolls his phone before wandering into the house.

I try to ignore how that simple gesture lashes yet another shallow mark across my heart.

My arm hooks through my mom’s as we walk.

“Thanks, Mom. I can’t believe we leave tomorrow. It feels surreal.”

The truth is, I’m nervous as hell. Even though the trip has Travis’ engineering behind it, he isn’t here to execute it—I am. The person who doesn’t like driving long distances or living dangerously is in charge of keeping us alive as we drive thousands of miles away from home. Over mountains and through deserts. To another ocean. As excited as I am for the time with the kids, I am scared to death I’ll fail. That I won’t translate Travis’ plan into an actual meaningful experience.

“You don’t come back here until you figure it out,” she says, turning to look at me when we get to the top of the steps. “You are going to get out there and want to come back when things feel hard, I know you. It will feel hard, and you’ll think it was a mistake. I want you to keep going. I want you to see what you need to see until you can come back here and breathe easy. Until you find yourself again, even if it’s just miles and miles of pavement.”

I hate how well she knows me.

I let out a long exhale. “Finn doesn’t want to go.”

“Ahh. Well, he’s seventeen, would you?” She laughs softly, her wild hair blowing in the breeze. “Remind him how fun you are. He’ll come around. You lost your husband, but he lost his dad, and his mom didn’t fully walk away from that crash either.” She wraps her arm around my shoulder and leans her head against mine. “Some people say time heals all wounds, but I always thought laughter was the real salve for a wounded soul. You all need to go out there and find some.”

Her familiar lavender scent envelops me.

“Now let’s get a glass of wine, and I’ll show you some new stuff I’ve been painting. I’ve been exploring nudes.”

She gives a sinful smile and wiggles her eyebrows as we step into the kitchen.

Gabe meets me there, shoving a glass of tequila in my hands.

“You’ll need this to soften the blow. She’s already shown me,” he says, face puckering. Mom slaps him in mock offense before disappearing down the hall.

I take the glass and give him a hug. “That bad?”

“Just wait.”

His dark eyes widen so dramatically, I laugh.

Gabe’s wife, Jenny, walks into the kitchen and squeezes me in a hug.

“I’m so excited for you!” she says in a near-squeal as we pull apart.

She’s a little thing—a former cheerleader with a blunt brown bob, shiny blue eyes, and a huge smile. If she wasn’t my sister-in-law, I would have hated her for how adorable she is. The red polka-dotted dress she’s wearing would make me look like a clown, but she pulls it off effortlessly.

“I can’t wait to hear about every single place you see!” she says, leaning into me. “And I’ll vicariously live through you.”

As if planned, one of her boys screams from outside, and she rolls her eyes then gives me a look that silently sums up the chaos of parenthood perfectly.

Again, I laugh.

“I will. I know, I really can’t believe it. I’m sure Gabe here has told you what an excellent driver I’ve become,” I say, shooting him a look.

“We’ll be lucky if they make it off the island,” he teases.

I flip my middle finger toward him with a fake smile, knowing he isn’t entirely wrong.

“That’s not fair. You never stopped yelling at me,” I argue.

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