Page 21 of Ride By Your Side

Plus, she was right. With the Pacific Coast Highway stretching out before us, the wind whipping through our hair, and the salty scent of the ocean filling our lungs, it’s hard to feel anything but pure joy. Without a doubt, this was precisely what my car was made to do.

“Let’s stop here for dinner,” she suggests, her voice breaking through our carefree silence. We’d occasionally exchanged words about the passing landscape or a special landmark, but the overwhelming beauty of the drive transcended the need for conversation, as we both seemed to get lost in this once-in-a-lifetime memory.

“Yeah, sure.” I nod, taking the exit.

Taking charge again, Veronica decided that a picnic was the way to finish off our time in California. We’d stopped at a small grocery store, grabbing supplies for sandwiches, along with chips, and fresh fruit.

I drive into a small, nearly empty lot and pull my car into a stall. Reaching into the back, she pulls out one of the blankets we’d bought since arriving in California, while I grab the bags of our recently purchased food.

“Ahh! This is beyond perfect,” she practically squeals, reaching for my arm and giving it a quick, excited shake. “And we’re just in time for the sunset.”

I nod, taking it all in. The sky is awash in a soft, ethereal glow of orange and pink, reflecting over the vast expanse of the dark blue ocean beneath it. It really does feel fitting—a stunning sunset on its way to bid us a final farewell from our time in California.

Reaching the sand, we remove our shoes, and she lays out the blanket for us to sit on. I drop the bags and eagerly sit down, but she takes her time, carefully settling in as her flowy blue summer dress spills around her.

My stomach protests waiting any longer as it lets out a soft, hungry growl. I reach into the bag and work on building myself a small sandwich, while Veronica opens the clear container of prepared fruit and pops a green grape into her mouth with a soft crunch.

“I’m going to miss this,” she says, closing her eyes and seemingly savoring the moment. I don’t blame her—I feel the same exact way.

Despite the setting sun, the slight breeze, and the fact that I’m only wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a black T-shirt, I can still feel the residual warmth of the day on my skin.

“Our mountains back home are pretty great, but nothing compares to this. I think I may now understand why Blair loved living here so much and why she chose this over me. I'm starting to think I might choose California over going back home,” I joke.

She waves me off, reaching into the bag to grab the Salt and Vinegar chips she’d picked out for dinner. “Oh, hush. She didn’t choosethisover you,” she says firmly, but her voice softens as she continues. “We both know she was running away from her feelings for a certain someone. ‘Exploring the world’ was just an excuse. Hell, the only reason she ever came back to visit was because of how much she missed you. And let me tell you, that says a lot, considering how stubborn she was, especially over these past two years.”

“Maybe.” I sigh before taking a bite of my sandwich. I don’t fault my sister for wanting to escape our tiny town, but I can’t deny that her moving so far away stung. Luckily, based on her recent texts, it looks like she might truly be settling down for good.

“Plus, you wouldn’t want to live here full-time, anyway. I’m pretty sure the thing that makes this place so special and magical is that when you’re here, and for only a short time, you get to enjoy all of this,” she explains, waving her hand out toward the ocean, “without it ever getting old. I don’t think I’d ever want to live in a place that would make me take this view for granted.”

I bob my head up and down as I ponder her words, wondering if she’s right. “Maybe that’s why I’m not finding you as annoying as I normally do,” I say with a teasing smile as I glance her way, meeting her narrowing gaze. “Maybe California really does make everything better.”

“So you’re saying that as soon as we get back to Evergreen Grove, you’re going to go right back to hating me?”

I furrow my brow, staring down at her with a stern expression. “Not this again. You know I don’t hate you. I just don’t usually appreciate you. But who knows? Maybe there’s a chance I’ve somehow been wrong about you this entire time.”

Her eyes light up. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t go as far as saying you’re one of my favorite people, but hey, at least you aren’t my least favorite anymore.”

“You know,” she says, after biting into a chip. “With you? I’ll gladly take that. But now I’m curious—who’s taken the lead for least favorite?”

“Pete,” I reply with little thought and no hesitation as I lean over, reach into the bag she’s holding and grab a small handful of chips.

“You can’t steal my answer,” she insists, her voice thick with indignation, even as she leans the bag closer to make my attempt easier.

“I’m allowed to hate whoever I want, especially someone as fucking insufferable as Pete West. Seriously, what kind of idiot lets someone like you get away?” I ask before I can think betterof what I’ve just admitted. Did I really just say the quiet part out loud?

“Someone like me, huh? And what exactly is he missing out on?”

I close my eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know. You’re fun, and not horrible company. I’d maybe even go as far as saying I now get what Blair has seen in you all these years.”

“He’s missing out because I’m fun?” she asks, poking my arm playfully as I flinch back, feeling the need to avoid her touch at all costs. I’m clearly not thinking straight, and her close proximity is already doing a number on me. The last thing I need is her touch sending my mind into another confusing spiral.

“Among other things,” I mutter, the salty and tangy taste of the chip being a much-needed distraction from the conversation I’m desperately trying to avoid. Sure, she’s been less irritating as of late, and I find that I’m not only starting to enjoy being around her, but also enjoy looking at her—not that I can say any of that, or rather, I’m not going to. There are some things that are just better left unsaid. Now if only I could make these thoughts stop happening altogether. Nowthatwould be helpful.

“And you’re not planning on sharing what those other things are?” she asks, reaching over to snatch the half-eaten sandwich I’d made for myself and taking a bite.

My mouth drops open. “Are you serious?” I ask as she casually shrugs her shoulders, savoring the taste. “Well, in that case, I take back what I just said. You’re just as annoying as I always thought,” I smugly reply as I retaliate by grabbing the bag of chips and placing it in my lap.

---