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‘Is this okay with you?’ she asked gently.

I pressed the heel of my hand to my breastbone, trying to calm myself down.

‘Because if it’s not,’ she said, ‘we can go back to being friends.’

‘I don’t want to be friends.’

Brooke’s eyes widened.

‘No,’ I said, rushing to correct myself. ‘I want this. This more-than-friends thing.’

‘Then we’re more than friends,’ she said simply. Like it could be that simple.

‘Is that what you want?’ I asked.

‘What I want is to go to Molly’s.’ And I had to laugh, because of course she did. ‘And get a burger and some fried chicken, then sit outside on the porch for a while, then come back here to sleep, and then go to Nashville tomorrow. With you. I want to do all of that with you.’

‘Me too.’

She took my hand. ‘Then let’s go.’

The next day, we rolled into Nashville around two in the afternoon.

I’d already scoped out a hotel online, one that was walking distance to the city’s downtown area, and I’d made a point of memorizing directions so I could drive and Brooke could rest. She bitched about it, but the fact that she gave in at all meant she probably wasn’t ready to drive yet, even if she wasn’t going to admit it.

I thought I might like to do a long road trip like this again at some point. Maybe in an RV, so we wouldn’t have to look for cheap motels all the time. I wanted to see more of that lush country we’d come across in Wyoming andIllinois … I wanted to go to the Great Smoky Mountains and hike the Appalachian Trail and spend weeks out in the middle of nowhere.

But for now, Nashville felt like a significant stop on our journey, and I was determined to make it count – in a good way.

We found the hotel and I went with Brooke to check in. She paid in cash, running her usual line about her wallet and phone being stolen. I watched, leaning against the counter and admiring her. Brooke noticed and rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile.

With the two of us hauling our belongings from the car, we made it to the room in one trip, and Brooke made sure to lock down the Mustang before we wandered the few streets over to Music Row. The sidewalks were wide here, like they were expecting people to be walking around, and we were only a few blocks from the hotel when Brooke stopped and slapped my arm.

‘Look.’

The blackboard sign held elaborate chalk typography:OPENMICNIGHT–TONIGHT.$500 PRIZE!

Brooke turned to me and grinned, an expression I was starting to become familiar with.

‘No,’ I said.

‘Why not?’ she demanded. ‘We’ve been singing all the way down here.’

‘Singing in the car or in a choir with thirty other people and getting on a stage in front of hundreds of strangers are two entirely different activities, Brooke.’

‘Not really,’ she said. ‘Come on. Where’s your sense of adventure?’

That almost made me laugh, and I had to turn away from her so she didn’t see my expression and think she’d won.

People brushed past us on the sidewalk, and somewhere, a few streets away, a car horn blasted.

‘Well, I’m going in,’ Brooke said, and strode into the bar like she belonged there.

‘Fuck’s sake,’ I muttered. And followed her.

The bar was brightly lit, with all the work lights on rather than the candles on the tables and the fairy lights that had been strung from the ceiling. A long wooden bar bracketed the left side of the room, with tables in between it and the stage over on the right.

‘Can I help?’ a guy called from behind the bar. ‘We don’t open until three.’