Page 23 of The Road to Finding Us

“What if you’re what I dream about?” The words come out before I think about their meaning. My intention was to flirt with her, throw a wrench in her demeanor, but the words ring a little too true. Something she hopefully doesn’t read into.

Her plump lips are sealed shut when I look over at her, her eyes darting in every direction but mine. Her front teeth make an appearance and seconds later she’s rolling her bottom lip underneath them. My fingers twitch in my lap to pull it out—an old habit—but I hold back.

Not yet. She’s not ready.

“What option do you choose?” I ask, waiting for her to look in my direction again.

Lily sighs, her eyes rolling before the aqua globes land on me. “Lead the way.” She reaches into the backseat, quickly grabbing her purse before opening her door a moment later. Her sandals make a slapping sound against the concrete as she jumps out.

I follow her lead, opening my door and stepping out. It feels good to finally stretch my legs. I reach up to the air, working out the kinks in the rest of my body as well.

The hot springs will definitely be nice after the first leg of our road trip.

I hear a screeching sound and Lily exclaim “Shit!” a moment later.

Rounding the back of the car as fast as possible, I find Lily standing there looking aghast. The panicked look on her face makes sense when I notice the handle to the tailgate resting in her hand…no longer attached to the truck.

“I’m…I’m so sorry,” Lily apologizes, lifting the handle and waving it in the air between us. “I was just trying to open the back and I had to pull a little harder than I expected, and then it just…well, it just came off.” The handle lingers in the air between us. Lily cautiously watches me, waiting for my reaction.

It’s quiet for a few beats, with only the sounds of the surrounding trees rustling in the wind. Finally, I can’t hold it in another second. A huge laugh erupts from me. I can’t stop it. I have to brace my palms against my thighs to regain my breath.

“Aspen Michael Bellevue, stop laughing!” She whacks me with the disassembled handle. After it hits my bicep, she loses control of it and it drops to the concrete with a clank. “I was worried you’d be mad at me,” she whines as she runs her hands through her hair.

“Lily, it’s fine. It happens all the time. I can get it back on easily.”

Her eyes widen. “It happens all the time and you let me panic over it for that long?” There’s disbelief in her voice.

“I didn’t realize you were that bent up about it,” I note, reaching to pick up the handle. In less than ten seconds, I have it clicking back into place and the tailgate pulled down. Wiping my hands on my jeans, I toss her a glance. “See?”

Her shoulder bumps against me as she goes to stand in front of the bed. I watch in amusement as she grabs the handle of her suitcase at the top of the pile. She plants her feet and gives it a good tug.

Once, twice…

On the third tug, I step closer to her and try to offer a hand. “Can I help?”

“I’ve got it,” she huffs, her arms shaking with tension as she pulls. Finally, the suitcase flies out of its position. Unfortunately for Lily, she was in the middle of pulling extremely hard, and she tumbles to the asphalt. She screams when the suitcase falls right on top of her.

I take the few steps to reach her, positioning one leg over her body so my feet are on either side of her thighs. “Still think you’ve got it?” I ask, extending my hand to help her up.

She shoves the suitcase off her, slapping my hand away in the process. Refusing my hand, she stands back up. When her body is vertical again, she stands no more than a foot away from me.

It’s closer than we’ve been in a long time.

Her chest rises and falls in quick breaths. I’m stuck to the ground as her eyes roam over my face. I’m getting ready to open my mouth to tell her something. What exactly, I’m not sure. But she’s allowing me this close to her and I feel like I should take advantage of it.

I’m nanoseconds away from saying something when she slides her purse onto her shoulder, using one hand to grab her duffel bag strap and the other to grab the handle on her suitcase. The wheels sound against the concrete as she begins to roll it toward the treehouse.

“Thanks for your help, asshole,” she yells over her shoulder, not bothering to look at me.

What the actual fuck? I’m staring blankly after her as she continues to move farther and farther away from me.

I tried to fucking help her.

“Thanks for the help, asshole,” I mock in an uppity tone as I grab my own belongings. There’s a loud bang when I slam it shut a little too hard.

“I did try to help,” I whisper to myself while I follow in her footsteps, now way behind her.

This woman might actually drive me to insanity.

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