Page 115 of Shared By the Mountain Men

Melissa

“I can’t believe Mom roped you into this,” I said.

Brian, my younger brother, shoved a box of my clothes into the back of my SUV. “I can’t believe you’re actually leaving Toledo.”

“Why do you say that?”

He wiped his hands and shrugged. “I always pictured you staying in Ohio. Like, forever.”

The old me would have done exactly that. Settled down in Toledo, popped out a few kids, and called it a life. Maybe I would’ve been happy.

But I was glad I was doing something different.

“Toledo is fine, but…”

Brian pointed at me. “Exactly. Toledo isfine, but life shouldn’t just be fine. It should be awesome. And there are places in the world more awesome than Toledo.”

“Is that why you picked a college in California?”

“Yes!” he said as if I should’ve already known that. “California is about as far away from Ohio as I could get, and only because Dad said he wouldn’t pay for my tuition in Hawaii.”

“Alaska is even farther,” I pointed out while closing the back of the SUV.

“Ugh. I’d rather stay in Ohio,” he muttered.

I gazed up at my apartment building for what would be the final time. It wasn’t a bad place. I had liked it here, more or less. It was fine.

But like Brian had said, life had more to offer than justfine.

“Okay,” I said, turning away from the building. “Let’s do this. Twenty-three hours to Crested Butte. If we makeveryquick bathroom breaks, we can be there by this time tomorrow morning!”

Brian stared at me. “Start over, and say different things this time.”

“Fine. Eleven hours to Omaha, where we’ll spend the night in a hotel.”

“And where you’ll buy me dinner.”

I climbed into the driver’s seat. “Why do I have to buy you dinner?”

“Because I’m doing you a favor by making this drive with you instead of flying back to college. You owe me.”

“I owe you? I’m giving you my car to have this semester!”

“Then you should buy me dinner because I’m a broke college student.”

“I’m even more broke than you.”

“I’ll settle for a Chili’s or something.”

“You’ve got a deal,” I quickly said.

I started the car, took a deep breath, and left the town where I had spent the entirety of my life.

But I wasn’t sad. Not even a little bit.

“You can take over when we stop for gas,” I said.

“Fine,” Brian replied while texting on his phone. “I don’t understand why you don’t need a car in Colorado.”

---