Page 106 of A Very Merry Mistake

“It’s a ten-hour drive.” I check the time. It’s nearly six o’clock.

“And they open at eight.”

I bend down and hug her. “Thank you.”

“Just make sure you’re back in town before the tree-lighting ceremony, okay?”

“Will do.”

“Love you, Jakey.”

“Love you, too, Mawmaw.” I shove the key and piece of paper in my pocket and wonder what the hell I’ll find.

CHAPTER 29

CLAIRE

TWO DAYS LATER

As soon as I’m off the plane, I walk as fast as I can through the airport. Many flights are delayed, and others are canceled. This all feels very much like déjà vu, but this time, I’ll do things a lot differently.

I take the escalator to the rental car area and wait in line. Considering it’s Texas, I don’t even try for a luxury vehicle. The odds of me getting one are little to none, so I reserved what I knew they’d have—a truck.

“There’s a storm rolling in,” the guy at the rental center tells me as soon as I step up to the counter. I’ve learned that people in the South tend to use the weather as a conversation starter. I don’t mind it, though. It sometimes makes speaking less awkward.

“Thanks for letting me know,” I offer. He goes over every page, then I sign my name at the bottom of the contract. I’m escorted outside, where the gigantic Ram truck is parked and waiting for me. It looks as large as a bus, but this time I made sure there was GPS and satellite radio. The guy helps load my suitcase in the back seat, but since it’s a carry-on, it’s not as heavy.

“Safe travels,” he tells me as he shuts the door and waves. I take a deep breath and move the seat forward, because whoever drove it before me was tall. Then I start it and place my hand on the steering wheel. The engine roars to life as I plug my phone into the charger. I’ll be damned if I get stranded this time.

The drive to Merryville isn’t much different from the last, but it’s dark already. Of course, my flight was delayed by three hours, so I’m on the road later than I originally wanted and planned to be. However, nothing will stop me.

The first hundred miles pass by fast. I listen to a podcast and eventually call my sister to check in.

I’m excited, but I’m also nervous.

No expectations. It’s what I’ve been whispering to myself since I met with my lawyer two days ago. I think it might become my life motto, because without expectations, disappointment doesn’t exist.

The truck hums under my fingertips as I finally turn down the old country road that leads straight to Merryville. I press down on the gas pedal, seeing the speedometer climb to eighty-five, and I hope I can cut some time off my arrival.

A few vehicles pass me in the opposite direction, and they turn on their high beams, nearly blinding me. My wipers cross over a dry windshield every fifteen seconds, but I can’t figure out how to turn them off. I’m not sure how they were turned on. Distracted driving is dangerous, so I leave everything how it is and continue on my path forward.

I’m on a mission.

When I’m forty minutes outside of Merryville, and the fuel light in the truck dings and turns on, I recognize it for what it is. And just like Hank had mentioned, I see one lonely gas station in the middle of nowhere.

Not wanting to repeat my last mistake, I slow down and pull over.

When I climb out of the truck, I go to the side and don’t see a fuel door. Annoyed, I drive to the other side. I flip open the metal flap, then I look between the two handles on the pump—unleaded or diesel. I’m not sure which one to choose, so I quickly search on my phone and can’t find a specific answer. My stress level begins to rise, because I can’t fuck this up. Time is of the essence, so I swallow my pride and go inside.

The door above the bell dings, and a teenager looks up from her phone.

“Howdy!” she says but continues to scroll. The gas station is small. In the back are cold drinks and a few aisles with candy, cookies, and chips. Because my throat is dry, I grab water and some chocolate peanut butter cups, then go up to the front. After I’m given a total, I slide my card and then clear my throat.

“This may sound stupid, but if I paid you a hundred bucks, would you pump my gas?”

She laughs and shakes her head. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“As a heart attack.” I hold up the $100 bill.

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