Page 28 of Baby For My Ex's Brother

We continue for a few more miles until I spot a gas station aglow with neon signs advertising restrooms and cheap coffee. I signal and pull off the highway, guiding the car into the parking lot. It feels good to be doing something normal, like stopping for a break, even if it's under circumstances neither of us could have predicted when today began.

"Thanks," she murmurs as she unclips her seatbelt, her relief evident.

"Don't mention it." I try to sound nonchalant, but there's an unfamiliar warmth bubbling up within me—a strange mix of concern for her comfort and an unexpected eagerness for the briefest glimpse of normalcy.

We part ways at the entrance, Shiloh bee-lining for the ladies' room while I grab a basket and start wandering the aisles. The gas station is a sanctuary of junk food and travel essentials. I snag some trail mix, beef jerky, and a couple of water bottles—might as well stock up.

By the time I pay and use the restroom myself, Shiloh's already waiting by the car. But she's not the same corporate-clad assistant from when we started this impromptu road trip.

She's changed into something that screams 'road trip rookie': a t-shirt emblazoned with a cartoonish bulldog—the local high school mascot, no doubt—and oversized gray sweats that look like they'd fit me better than her.

I can't help it; a laugh escapes me before I can think to stifle it. It's a short, surprised sound, but it feels foreign after hours of silence and tension between us.

Shiloh beams at my reaction, and there's something infectious about her smile. It lights up her whole face, makes her eyessparkle, and suddenly, the cramped confines of the car seem less stifling.

"Nice outfit," I tease, unlocking the doors.

"Thanks." She does a little twirl, clearly not embarrassed in the slightest. "Figured I should embrace the spirit of the road."

"Embracing it with gusto, I see." I chuckle, shaking my head as I slide back behind the wheel. I'm still smiling, and I catch Shiloh looking at me like she's never seen me do it before. Maybe she hasn't.

"Road trip rule number one: Always be comfortable," she declares, buckling up.

"Is that so?" I ask, starting the engine. "And here I thought rule number one was don't drive your boss across state lines."

"Only if you get caught," she quips, and there's a spark of something—challenge, maybe, or just plain mischief—in her tone

The sun dips low on the horizon, casting a hazy orange glow over the road ahead. Hours have passed since Shiloh changed into her impromptu road trip attire, but neither of us has managed to keep up the light-hearted banter.

The map says we’re somewhere in Maryland… and that isn’t nearly close enough. I can feel the crankiness settling in like an unwelcome passenger. My eyes are heavy with the kind of tiredness that makes every blink a battle to reopen.

"Shiloh," I start, my voice rough from disuse, "how much longer do we have?"

She pulls out her phone and opens up the navigation app. I glance over, dreading the answer.

"Another seven hours," she says, and my heart sinks.

"Seven hours." It's not just a statement; it's a lament. I rub my eyes, trying to push away the fatigue. "Alright, I can muscle through it."

"Sure you can, Iron Man," Shiloh murmurs, but her words are laced with a hint of worry.

I'm about to reassure her, maybe crack a joke to lighten the mood, when a loud bang echoes from under the car, cutting through the strained silence like a gunshot. My grip on the steering wheel tightens instinctively as I ease off the gas and guide the car to the side of the road.

"What the hell was that?" Shiloh asks, her voice tense as she looks back at the road behind us.

"Something we definitely didn't need right now," I mutter. My mind races—flat tire? Engine problem? Either way, it's bad news.

And stranded on the side of some highway in Maryland is not where I want to be with Shiloh.

Not when every second around her is a test of self-control I never agreed to take.

"Are we... are we okay?" She turns to me, face etched with concern.

I meet her gaze, wishing I had the answers. "We'll find out."

I push the door open and step out into the cool night air. The distant sounds of nighttime traffic are a soft hum compared to the silence that hangs between Shiloh and me. I circle to the back of the car, my shoes crunching on the gravel shoulder.

"Stay inside," I call over my shoulder as Shiloh unbuckles her seatbelt. "It's safer."

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