Page 11 of The Love Bus

I wasn’t a religious person—definitely not Catholic—but I couldn’t deny there was something about this place, something that oddly enough, reminded me that the people I’d loved and lost might not be as lost as I’d imagined.

The feeling wrapped itself around me like a weighted blanket, and I would have relaxed if I hadn’t caught a movement at the back of the chapel.

My gaze shifted, and there he was again—Noah. He leaned against the stone wall near the entrance, hands in his jacket pockets, his head bowed slightly as though deep in thought.

There was a heaviness to the set of his shoulders, a quiet melancholy that didn’t fit the man I’d met on the plane.

Noah. The name suited him. Soft, but also…strong.

I should have looked away, but instead, I found myself wondering what was going through his mind—what he was thinking.

And I really, really, wanted to know why he was on this tour. Was it possible he was just being a loving son? Could it be as simple as that?

Then, as if sensing that he was being watched, he glanced up, his eyes distant at first. For a second, it seemed like he didn’t see me at all. But then, just as I was about to turn away, his gaze focused, locking onto mine.

The moment stretched, too long, and my breath caught, my fingers tightening around the edge of the pew. Shaken, I forced an awkward smile. He blinked and looked away.

What the hell was that?

He’d looked…sad. And also…as lost as I felt.

Tay’s voice faded into the background as I sat there. Was I being fanciful? Was all this talk of love and ghosts and long-lost legends messing with my head? My eyes drifted toward Noah again, but he wasn’t looking back. Head down. Closed off.

Leo always said I overthought things. That I was too sensitive.

So had my mom. And it wasn’t the only opinion they’d shared.

And, not for the first time, the fact that my mom hadn’t really warmed to Leo struck me as strange.

He checked all the boxes, didn’t he? College-educated, career-minded, stable.

He was the one who’d insisted we take the show off the internet and onto TV.

He said we needed to be more professional.

That real success meant getting away from “influencer fluff” and doing something grown-up. Something that was real.

And I’d gone along with it—half because it sounded smart, and maybe, if I was being honest, half because I’d thought that’s what my mom wanted.

Not that I’d ever admit that to her.

Good gravy, I could barely admit it to myself.

Especially when her first response to my blow-up was to suggest a clerical job at an insurance office, or one of the hospitals in Providence—medical records, or billing, or something equally soul-killing.

Did she even know me?

And honestly, I was already doing a fine job criticizing myself; I didn’t need her help. My entire life, she has always been there to point out what I’d done wrong, happy to steer me in a more practical direction.

Dad had been different. He had been the one to soften the blows, to remind me I wasn’t a total failure. They’d been so different, my mom and dad. Sometimes, the fact that they’d stayed together so long seemed impossible.

My gaze drifted to Babs, to the way she carried Morty with her—not just in memory, but literally. His hat, his necklace. Pieces of him, always with her.

Had my mom loved my dad like that? Or had she just held on because that’s what she did? Because she wouldn’t let go, no matter what?

I swallowed and looked away, and suddenly, I was in a different church—one with modern carpets and cushioned pews.

My father’s funeral.

The air had been thick with lilies and quiet condolences, but the only thing I could focus on was my mother. She stood on the opposite side of Ashley, dry-eyed, her back straight, her hands clasped so tightly together they looked carved from stone.

And I had been the opposite. A mess. Red-faced, sobbing, shaking.

I’d felt…weak, like my grief was something embarrassing, something shameful. I knew she mourned him—of course, she did—but she’d refused to let anyone see it. Refused to let me see it.

And that day…Leo had been my rock. I’d held onto his hand like a lifeline.

He hadn’t just been there—he had been there , wiping away my tears, pulling me close. And when I’d broken down, he hadn’t hesitated to wrap me up in his arms, letting everyone see how much he felt things.

At the time, it had been a relief to be with someone who didn’t hide. Someone who didn’t make me feel weak for breaking. Unfortunately, though, we hadn’t been able to stay for the reception. We’d had to drive right back down to Newport so Leo could meet with one of our producers.

Pictures from that day were right there on his Instagram feed. Proof that he had loved me.

Or had it all just been part of the show?

My chest tightened.

What was it Morty had told Babs about the mountains? That you came to them to get a better view of yourself?

Maybe, that was why I was here. Not just to take up this seat that my mom had paid for, and not even just to run from all my problems at home, but to get a better view of myself.

Maybe it was fate.

Leo would laugh if I ever mentioned something like that to him. It would be a gentle, humoring kind of laugh, but it would have made me feel small for believing in something he didn’t. At some point, I’d simply…

It had been easier to keep those thoughts to myself.

Now, though, without his gigantic presence in my life, I didn’t have to worry about his opinions.

Something fluttered in my chest. This vacation had barely begun, and I felt more adrift than ever. I didn’t have any answers. If anything, I had more questions than ever about myself.

But maybe that was the point.