Page 2 of The Other Side of Apart

“House arrest?”

“He has pictures of us together. From Nick’s phone.” I pause as a semi-truck rumbles past, sending a gust that makes me dig my toes into my shoes to keep us upright.

“What?”

“Yeah…” I look at the ocean again, since it’s just as frantic as I am right now. “He knows about us. And that you’re involved with Nick.” How involved is still the question.

“Marcus, I’m not?—”

I shake my head and sort through responses, but the cruiser door shuts again, and I close my eyes. My heart pounds up my throat as the officer approaches.

“Good to go,” she says, handing me my license.

Relief gusts through me and I let out a shaky breath. Forcing a smile, I shove my license back into my wallet. The cop’s eyes sweep Mei’s face again. Even with her helmet on, it doesn’t hide everything, so I rush a “thank you,” put on my helmet, and start the engine.

The officer pulls a card out of her shirt pocket and holds it out to Mei. “If you need anything, call this number.” Mei takes it and the officer walks back to her car. She thinks I did that to Mei’s face. If only she knew those bruises are why we’re running.

I rev the engine and pull back onto the highway. Mei’s arms tighten around me. I focus on breathing through anger and confusion and all the hurt that’s settling inside me now that we’ve been still for twenty minutes too long. Jaw clenched, I check the rearview mirror every other second.

With each mile marker we pass, my head clears a little like the wind is taking pieces of my freak-out and scattering them behind us. Mei’s arms are wrapped around me, and I relax into her. She’s here. We’re together. I haven’t lost her, and I’ll do anything to make sure that doesn’t happen. I’m gonna make this new life perfect for her so she never has a reason to leave.

Thunder rumbles through my thoughts and lightning slashes at the sky as the clouds break open and dump everything they’ve been collecting on us. I shoot forward on the seat and slow way, way down.

Mei huddles against me, yelling above the storm, “We should pull over.”

But we’re not far enough away. I want to keep going until we hit Seattle. Until all the stuff left unsaid between us blows away or dissolves in the rain. Until my thoughts are jostled into place by this bumpy road. But if I don’t stop, I’ll lose control of this bike, and I’m so tired of not being in control.

Rain runs off my helmet and down my face and neck as I search for somewhere to wait out the storm. When my eyes land on a rickety lifeguard hut down the beach, I veer off the highway and race across wet sand. Mei holds on tighter, and we roar to a stop beside the hut.

I push the motorcycle under the deck, pull off my helmet, and hang it on the handlebar. Grabbing our bags with one hand,I take Mei’s hand with the other and we sprint up the ramp. I crank the rusted knob and shove against the door. When it scrapes open, we dart inside and flinch when it slams shut behind us, throwing us into stale, murky darkness. The smell of rotting wood and rusty metal hangs in the air, and I hope nothing’s alive in here.

Crusty towels slump in one corner next to a couple of cracked plastic chairs. On the floor, toppled beer cans rock from the breeze squeezing through the wooden slats. It smells like old pee and seaweed, but I drop our bags onto the floor anyway, like they’re anchors to this reality I don’t want, but am too tired, wet, and windblown to think beyond.

Why did we think any part of this would work?We still have ten hours of driving, but don’t have that long before Dad finds out I’ve left and sends someone after us. Or Nick. He might be in jail, but that doesn’t stop his guys from coming after us.

Mei fumbles with her helmet beside me, her hands trembling, body shivering. I reach out, unbuckle the helmet, and carefully slide it off. Her face is outlined by a sliver of light coming through the broken blinds over the window. “You okay?” I ask, my voice raspy, and she nods, meeting my eyes. My fingers twitch to pull her close, but her whole body is shaking, her teeth chattering, so I snap into motion, yank open the zipper on my bag, rummage through it. A section of the aluminum roof flaps against the rafters as I hold a dry hoodie toward her.

She takes it from me and holds it to her chest. I shake my head.“This is insane. What are we doing here?”

“At least it’s not a hurricane in here.” Her voice lilts at the end as if she’s trying to smooth it out—make everything alright. But it’s not alright. Maybe it never will be.

“Yeah, but you’re freezing. And exhausted. And we’re…here.” I’m stuck in a tangled mass of things I should say and things I shouldn’t, and I can’t sort through it all right now. Perfection isimpossible when everything has been blowing up in our faces for the last twelve hours.

She searches my expression. “Marcus, you don’t have to be here. I can?—”

“You look exhausted. And you’re soaked.” My eyes trip across her face, then across the floor, over the cracked counter, the craggy rafters. “We’re not going anywhere anytime soon, so I’ll make a spot for you to rest after you change.” And avoid conversations that take us back to unresolved issues I don’t know how to deal with right now.

I reach for a life raft drooping over a weathered wooden beam above us, and it falls to the sandy floor. Fumbling along the side, I twist a nozzle and the raft hisses to life, filling the space between us.

“I’ll just wait outside.” I turn and reach for the doorknob, but pause when she says my name.

“It’s pouring out there.”

“It’s okay. Can’t get any more soaked than I already am.” Honestly, I’m more afraid of the emotions that caught up to me on our ride slipping out than I am of the rain.

“Marcus?” Mei’s voice is small, and I turn to face her, one foot out the door. “Thank you.”

A dry laugh rushes up my throat. “For bringing you to this hellhole?”

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