Page 22 of Here We Go Again

Hearing Hale talk about how Joe changed her life reminded Logan that she wouldn’t be a teacher without him, either.

Before Joe, Logan only had teachers who saw her as a nuisance. The kid who couldn’t sit still, the kid who blurted in class, the kid who lost all her homework. The kid who wasn’t living up to her potential.

Joe sawher. He saw the way her brain worked, and instead of trying to fix it, he celebrated it. He taught her how to harness her passion and creativity, and he believed in her when no other teacher ever had. She became a teacher because she wanted to help a new generation of neurodivergent teens learn to love their brains, too.

If she and Hale had that in common, then maybe they could put aside their differences for a man like Joseph Delgado.

Of course that was before she learned Hale packed seven bags. She reaches for the nearest suitcase and tries to lift it, but it weighs as much as Hale does. “Why did you pack so much?”

“At least one of us has to be prepared!”

“Prepared? You’re wearing heels and a dress!”

Hale clicks her tongue. “I’m sorry, should I be dressed like a middle-aged insurance adjuster on a golf course in Hawaii?”

Logan looks down at her tropical shirt (this one dotted with parrots), her basketball shorts, and her Birkenstocks. She almost laughs at Hale’s attempt at humor. “This feels like a normal road trip outfit.”

Hale gestures to her own slim frame. “So does this.”

“A wool frock?”

Hale tilts her head like a confused bird. Logan wishes she didn’t find the gesture oddly endearing. “This is organic cotton,” Hale corrects with that same earnestness as before. “I got it from ModCloth.”

Hale almost looks self-conscious about the dress as she smooths out imaginary creases in the fabric. “It’s… cute,” Logan tries as she starts hauling Hale’s heavy luggage into the back of the van. Hale glares suspiciously at the compliment.

“Don’t worry, Princess, you just stand there. I’ll take care of all the manual labor.”

“Girls!” her dad raises his voice from the porch. “If you fight with each other like this while driving, you’re both going to end up dead on the side of the road. And I am not going to fly coach to Ohio just so I can identify your bodies. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Hale mutters, looking properly ashamed.

Logan puts on her sunglasses. “We’ve got to get going.”

A prolonged series of goodbyes takes place, in which her dad pulls her in close, squeezes her tight, and whispers, “You deserve an adventure, Chicken.”

She refuses to think about the fact that she’s leaving him, that he’ll be alone. She kisses him on the cheek, adjusts her duffle over her shoulder, and turns to Hale.

“Okay, Captain. What’s the plan?”

Hale hands her a laminated schedule with their driving directions for the day broken down into two-hour shifts, with planned stops for the bathroom and gas.

Rosemary:Vista Summit to Boardman.

Logan:Boardman to La Grande.

Rosemary:La Grande to Ontario.

Logan:Ontario to Twin Falls.

The amount of work and forethought Hale put into this trip in such a short amount of time is impressive. Logan could never wrap her brain around organizing a trip like this.

Logan looks up and sees Hale struggling to boost all measly five feet of herself into the driver’s seat of the van, her heels slipping on the running board, the back of her cotton dress riding up so Logan gets a peek at slender thighs and the hem of her white cotton underwear. Without thinking, Logan steps closer and places a hand on Hale’s back before she falls. The fabric of the dress is smooth against Logan’s skin, and she catches another whiff of vanilla and peppermint. It makes her dizzy.

“Let go of me,” Hale snaps. “I can get into the van by myself.”

Logan pulls her hand away, and Hale slips again before climbing behind the driver’s seat. And oh yeah.

There’s no chance of either of them surviving the next six days.