Page 108 of Love Me Fearless

When I turninto my driveway, Everett pulls in after me and waits until I get inside. I signal to him that all is well with a flick of my porch light. I peer through the window as he backs out and cruises down the street.

Hutch is due in an hour for the run he promised me, so I start a load of laundry, fold the towels in the dryer, scrub the sinks in my bathroom, and make a grocery list while also thinking about what we could make for dinner. I’m craving something spicy. Maybe I’ll make my Szechuan chicken. Or beef curry?

Out of the corner of my eye, two hummingbirds zip past the feeders, their colorful wings practically iridescent in the golden evening light. I lean sideways to get a peek at the feeders, but they’re almost empty. Huh. I try to remember when I last filled them, but the past few days are a blur.

I whip out my saucepan and measure the water then tuck into my tiny pantry to grab the sugar, then remember that I’m out thanks to my latest baking urges. Crap!

After turning off the burner, I think through my options. While living in San Francisco, I discovered the glory of online grocery delivery,but such a service doesn’t exist in small town Finn River. I could text Hutch to pick up some sugar for me, but he’s with his mom at the doctor’s office right now.

More hummingbirds dart from feeder to feeder, taking time to bicker and nip at each other. The store is a mere six miles away from my house. On well-traveled roads.

If I leave now, I can be back with the feeders topped up by the time Hutch arrives for the run we both need. Yes I’m not supposed to be alone, but it won’t take long and it’s not like I’m going for a hike by myself. The roads are totally safe. After snatching up my purse, I slip through the front door and deadbolt the lock behind me.

Just to the store, then home, I tell myself as I climb behind the wheel.

As I drive, I soak in the pretty forest views and the vibrant green of spring evident in the thick foliage of the cottonwoods and aspens and the lush grass edging the road. The Bitterroots in my rearview look sharp with their snow-dusted spires and rocky bowls against the deepening blue sky. I roll my window down and savor the warm breeze on my face.

I’ve just turned onto Lakeview when my car gives a jolt, like I’m out of gas…only I’m not. What the heck? I press the gas pedal but that only seems to make the problem worse. The dashboard doesn’t show me any error messages. What is going on? I start lurching, a metallic clatter rising from the rear of the car. Okay, something is really wrong.

I flick my signal and pull into a parking lot for a storage facility, the little office closed so I have my choice of spots. A red CHECK ENGINE message lights up my dash as my engine dies and I coast to a stop in the middle of the lot. “Yeah, thanks,” I grumble, shifting into PARK and setting the emergency brake.

When I was sixteen, before my dad let me get my license, he made me practice changing my tire, drilled me on how to connect jumper cables, taught me how to replace my battery, fill my washer fluid,and change out a broken headlight. So I’m not completely clueless when it comes to basic car maintenance, yet CHECK ENGINE is out of my league.

I huff a groan because it hits me that the failed engine is going to be the least of my worries. When my many protectors find out I snuck out of my house to run this errand, they are going to skewer me.

I stare through the windshield, thinking. There’s no evidence of what caused my car to die. No fire, no steam. Should I have a peek first? I reach under the dash to pop my hood and step out of my car.

The crunch of tires from a car turning into the parking lot catches me off guard, but behind the wheel is a friendly face.

He parks behind me and leans out his window. “Saw you pull in. Car trouble?”

I cross my arms. “Unfortunately.”

He steps from his car. “Maybe I can help.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I helpMom into the passenger side and climb behind the wheel. The doctors were all smiles, showing me the graphs of Mom’s EKG and results of the bloodwork. I want to believe in their optimism, but there’s a nagging fear that they’re wrong. Or maybe it’s a fucked-up way for my emotions to jerk me around because if she’s well, my obligation to stay comes to an end.

“Have you heard from your command?” Mom asks like she’s reading my thoughts.

“Yeah,” I reply.

She touches the back of my hand resting on the console. “You’re heading back soon, am I right?”

“Sunday.” I could push it to Monday, but what will that buy me except a more painful goodbye?

She turns to gaze out the window, blinking. “I bet you’re excited. You’ve already missed so much.”

Have I? Or is it the other way around, and I’ve missed out on something much more important?

“Thank you for being here, honey,” Mom says.

I try to smile, but my face feels ready to crack. “Of course.”

“Have you and Ava talked? About how you’ll make it work?”

“Make what work?”

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