Page 29 of Every Beautiful Mile

“Yeah, that’s fine. Did something happen? You seem upset.”

He rolls his eyes while shaking his head. “You’re so intuitive.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask calmly, trying to ignore the way his tone is begging for me to lose my ever-loving mind.

“Abby just broke up with me because she didn’t want to spend a summer waiting for her boyfriend to get back from vacation. Happy? You drag us on this little trip to fix your life while you ruin ours in the process. Seems about right. No, I do not want to talk about it, Mom.”

My breath escapes me in a gust. “Finn, that’s not fair.”

He scoffs. “Fair? I can’t wait to hear about what you think is fair.”

I squeeze my hands into tight fists at his emphasis. I half expect my skin to break open and bleed.

Finn’s face is stamped in sadness and anger and looks every bit of what it means to be heartbroken.

My anger is replaced by sympathy.

“Finn…”

Before I can figure out what to say next, Finn’s arm rears back before quickly snapping forward. He hurtles his phone against the Avion with a loud shatter and an angry yell.

His yell isn’t an actual word but holds the weight of a novel’s worth.

My mouth opens and then closes. Twice. Three times.

Marin scoffs and crosses her arms. “Really, Finny, you broke your phone over stupid Abby?”

Note to self, muzzle Marin in tense situations with her brother.

“Shut up, Marin! I don’t need to hear it from you, too.”

He runs his hand through his hair.

The wisdom I’ve accumulated from four decades of living on earth makes me want to explain all the reasons why these things happen—how relationships come and go before the right one clicks into place—but I don’t.

As much as I know about love and loss, I also know to a seventeen-year-old, none of my advice matters. My experience is irrelevant. I know his heartbreak is real and big and like the most devastating thing there is, even if it isn’t.

Finn slams the door of the Avion as I crouch down to pick up the shattered pieces of his phone, a pointless task that only serves to keep me from crying the frustrated tears I’m fighting.

Crouched down in a Marfa parking lot, it becomes painfully clear that no matter how many miles away from home we drive, we can’t outrun our own heartbreak.

Twelve

The twang of a guitar floats from speakers in the middle of the campground toward our campsite as we eat a tense dinner that night.

“Yeah, so we totally have to go see what’s going on over there.” Marin cranes her neck to get a look at the people walking toward the small amphitheater. “This is so Texas of us. The desert, the music. I bet some people rode horses to get here!”

Her eyes twinkle brightly as she watches.

I snort between bites while Finn stays silent, pushing food around his plate.

“Hey, can you give Finn and me a few minutes to talk, Mar? Then we can go to the music?”

She shoots him a look before taking her plate and going inside.

I grab two beers from the fridge and set them on the table, taking a seat across from him.

Finn’s brown eyes go wide.

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