Page 13 of Fly with Me

At least Jake never had to see those comments. The slurs. The threats. The vicious rumors. One of the last things Olive and her mother had been united about was their fight against the trolls coming after Jake on every possible platform. So much had happened since then.

“That’s awful.” Stella’s expression was a jumble of sympathy and surprise.

It had been awful, but it hadn’t been the worst of it. Seeing it happen had been the worst… Olive and her sister, Heather, both ended up accidentally seeing the viral video when it was shared by people who didn’t know it was Jake. It was one of those doorbell cameras. The kind of thing that gets shared over and over on social media. A child’s life saved by a random stranger. Olive couldn’t hear the screech of tires as the driver tried and failed to stop in time, but she could imagine it. She’d seen Jake get hit.

“Olive?”

She looked up at Stella. Something in her kind expression eased the tangle of tension pulling between Olive’s shoulders. “I’m okay.”

After a few minutes of silence, Stella swiped on her phone and held up her map app. “We’re almost at the park, Olive. Seven more minutes.”

“The park?”

“Your race.”

Right. The half-marathon. Disney World. The entire reason she was experiencing this ridiculous day.

“What hotel are you staying at?”

“Oh—uh, the Beach Club. It was my brother’s favorite.” Way too fancy and expensive for Olive, but she wasn’t the one who made the reservation.

“You still want to run?”

“I do want to run. God, Stella, I’m sorry.” Her brain lurched forward into the moment like it was a bike chain and a stick stuck in the gears had been yanked out. “I slept the entire time. I meant to wake up and trade off with you for a bit. Driving, I mean.”

Stella shook her head and waved a dismissive hand as she pulled off the highway, following the directions of her phone GPS. “Oh, I can’t do that anyway.”

“Can’t do what?”

“I can’t be in the car with anyone else if they’re driving. Except my father. But he doesn’t drive anymore, so that’s not important. I’ve always been that way. Are you getting excited? I remember the last time I ran a race, I could barely sleep the night before. I couldn’t wait.”

Olive gave a noncommittal shake of the shoulders. “I’m really happy to have made it here. Thank you again. But… I think I need coffee.”

“I read that coffee isn’t great the day before a race because of—well, gastrointestinal issues.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m sure you’re starving too. Thank you so much for getting the peanut butter and banana.”

Her eyes brightened again. “Of course. My pleasure.”

Olive could probably listen to Stella say the word pleasure about a million more times. It was like ASMR. If the ASMR was designed to get someone incredibly horny and make them consider doing something very ill-advised.

Stella turned left, and Olive pointed out a twenty-four-hour convenience store in the distance. The signs changed from normal road signs to festive ones. Mickey Mouse was everywhere. Stella pulled into the parking lot. Olive grabbed her bag from the trunk and went inside. She hit the bathroom first since her bladder was a bowling ball in her pelvis. The bathroom was dingy, but at least it had been recently cleaned. She changed into her running clothes, stuffing the wrinkled plane clothes into her suitcase.

After her teeth were brushed and her face washed, she put on mascara and enough makeup that she wouldn’t be mistaken for one of the ghosts in the Haunted Mansion. The makeup had absolutely nothing to do with the gorgeous woman who was driving her. Nothing at all. Putting on makeup before running thirteen miles is something people do sometimes.

She braided back her wild hair as best she could. After rummaging in her bag, she found her electrolyte gummies and mini water bottles and stuffed them into her not-dorky-at-all running fanny pack. Finally, she took out Jake’s medal and fitted it into the inside pocket of her leggings. She’d feel it during the entire race. She nodded to herself in the mirror and headed to get the oh-so-necessary caffeine juice from the big coffee vats. She would have preferred an IV of the stuff this morning. Could 3:00 A.M. even be termed morning?

Stella was already at the counter, with a coffee of her own, one of those fancy nuts-only protein bars, and, strangely, a yellow bag of Swedish Fish. There was no way Stella could know they were her favorite candy, right? Olive whipped out her credit card before Stella could free her own from her wallet.

“You don’t have to—”

“I do.” Olive offered a small smile. “And I need to know what you spent on gas.”

“You paid for the rental car.” Stella shook her head and held up her own card.

Olive pushed the card away. “The rental car was to get me down here. I should be paying you a lot of money for your chauffeuring services. As a pilot, I feel like you’re a really overqualified Uber driver.”

Stella’s laughter was more restrained than Olive expected it to be. While she could talk and talk, she always seemed to be aware of her body and volume in a way that made Olive wonder if Stella was less sure of herself than she seemed. Maybe that was why she never had a hair out of place.

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