Page 12 of Four More The Merrier

"License and registration." He taps on my window with his flashlight.

My hands shake as I pass them over. "Officer, I know I was speeding, but I'm actually running really late for-"

"Step out of the vehicle, ma'am."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"This vehicle is registered to Robert and Linda Dupree." He shines the light in my face. "Care to explain?"

"They're my parents." I dig through my wallet. "Look, I have my ID. Same last name and everything."

"Could be stolen. We'll need to verify."

"Are you kidding me?" I slump against the car. "Listen, I'm their daughter. Their very desperate daughter who's about to lose the biggest opportunity of her life if I don't make it to Montana by tonight."

"Montana?" He squints at my ID. "That's quite a drive from Tennessee. Suspicious, are you running from something?"

This can't be my life. I think to myself.

"Let me just call my parents, you can talk to them." I inform the officer.

My fingers tremble as I dial my parents' number. The officer stands nearby, radioing in my information. The Montana-bound GPS mocks me from the dashboard.

"Quinn?" Mom's voice carries that familiar mix of worry and disappointment. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." I swallow hard. "I'm actually calling because-"

"Where are you? That sounds like traffic."

"I'm in South Dakota-"

"South Dakota?" Dad's voice cuts in. They must be on speaker. "What in God's name are you doing there?"

"If you'd let me finish..." I press my forehead against the steering wheel. "I'm opening for this holiday tour and-"

"Another tour?" Mom sighs. "Honey, remember that bar tour that ended up being a scam?"

"This is different. It's legitimate. I'm supposed to be in Montana by tonight."

"Montana?" Dad's voice rises. "In that death trap you call a car? Quinn, this is ridiculous. Come home for the holidays instead. Your mother's making her sweet potato casserole."

"I can't just give up. This could be my break."

"Your break?" Mom's voice cracks. "Sweetheart, you've been chasing 'your break' for three years. There's nothing wrong with admitting it didn't work out."

I thrust the phone toward the officer. "Here, talk to them. They'll confirm everything."

He takes it with a skeptical look. "Mr. and Mrs. Dupree? This is Officer Peterson with the South Dakota Highway Patrol."

My parents' voices buzz through the speaker as I pace beside my car, kicking at loose gravel.

"Yes ma'am," He pauses, listening. "I understand your concern."

I groan, running my hands through my tangled hair.

"Well, she was going fifteen over..." He glances at me. "I suppose I could let her off with a warning, given the circumstances."

My heart leaps. Finally, something going right.

---