Page 21 of On the Way to You

He opened his eyes slowly, watching me, pupils fluctuating in size as they flicked back and forth between my own. A hardness seemed to wash over them as we laid there, the vulnerability slipping away just as quickly as it had come. I’d offered to drive thinking it would help, that it would make him happy, but it was like I’d disappointed him, instead. Or, maybe it wasn’t me at all. Maybe it was the dream, or himself, or life, in general. But suddenly I felt like I was the nest, a waste of his time, of his energy.

He didn’t speak, but I heard his voice anyway, asking me that same question he did the day before.

What makes you happy?

I wanted to know his answer, too.

I wasn’t sure how long we laid there before he finally nodded, his eyes still tired as he did. I opened my mouth to speak again but he was already up, covers thrown back, and I was alone in his bed. The ridges of the lean muscles that lined his back were all I saw as he dipped inside the bathroom, a stranger yet again, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.

We’d been on the road for three hours, and Emery hadn’t said a single word.

The sun warmed our skin as we drove with the top down again, and this time I’d been smart enough to slather my shoulders and face with sunscreen. I was a little burnt from the day before, just a tinge of red on my otherwise tan skin, but enough to know it wouldn’t be pretty if I didn’t protect myself.

Kalo laid behind my seat most of the drive, finding shade there, and the music blasted over the sound of the wind as it whipped through the car.

I’d watched Emery from my peripheral most of the drive, glancing over every now and then to see if he’d look back at me. He never did. His eyes were either on the scenery as we passed through each town or on the pages of his journal as he wrote. Even when he wasn’t writing, the book sat in his lap, pages wide open. He held the pen in his hand the entire time, too, the cap hooked on the top of it, always at the ready.

Emery wore a permanent scowl that day. Not just the easy lines between his brows, but a full-on, eyebrows pulled low and mouth in a thin line scowl. The edges of his clean jaw seemed even sharper, the sun and shadows battling for dominance when we passed under lazy Louisiana trees. I wanted to know what he was thinking, how he was feeling, but every attempt I’d made at a conversation had gone off about as well as a lighter in the rain.

We stopped in Lake Charles long enough to grab new snacks and use the bathroom. Emery still didn’t speak, but he did take Kalo for a walk while I filled up our gas tank. I massaged my thigh gently and surveyed them together in the small patch of grass at the edge of the parking lot, Kalo hopping around in the grass with a goofy grin and tongue hanging out. Emery just stood and watched her, hands in his pockets, shoulders rounded.

When we were back on the road, I propped the bag of beef jerky I’d just purchased in-between my legs, ripping the top of it open and digging inside for the first chunk just as I noticed the bridge coming up in the distance. It was a steep incline, pointing us toward Westlake, and I chewed on the teriyaki snack with a glance toward Emery.

“Are there a lot of bridges where you live in Florida?” I asked, trying again to get some sort of conversation flowing. The awkward silence left between us from the morning was still hanging around, and I was ready to get rid of it.

Emery didn’t answer, his eyes on the water as we started to ascend over the bridge.

“I used to be terrified of them,” I continued, shredding another bite off a large piece of beef jerky. “My dad said when I was younger, I would literally scream at the top of my lungs anytime we crossed over one. I don’t really remember that, but, ironically enough, I got into a car accident on a bridge. And ever since then, I haven’t been afraid of them anymore.”

Still nothing.

“Have you ever been in a car accident?”

He looked at me over his sunglasses then, brows gathered in a pinch of concern.

“Oh,” I said, cheeks flushing. “I guess that’s probably not the best topic of conversation on a road trip, is it?”

Emery looked at the road again, and I washed down the beef jerky with a drink from the large fountain soda I’d purchased at the gas station. Tapping my thumbs on the steering wheel, I racked my brain for what else to talk about.

“I bet this bridge would be so fun on a bike. I mean, not the way up, of course. That would suck. Calves would be onfire.But look at this hill down,” I said as we dipped over the apex. “Could you imagine? You’d go so fast, just flying down with the wind in your face, wheels turning faster than you’ve ever seen them go before.”

I paused, smiling.

“Do you have a bike?”

Emery sighed then, folding his hands over his journal with the pen still threaded through his fingers. He just looked at me, as if he was asking, “Are you done yet?”

“I’m talking too much, huh?”

He forced a smile, but not the encouraging kind. The kind that said, “Yes, you are.”

I laughed. “Just another reason why I’ll be single forever. Add it to the list.”

Emery had started turning his gaze back to the road, but he stopped then, facing me again.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He speaks, ladies and gentlemen.