Page 29 of Trailer Park Princess

Kade lays on the horn, three short, angry blasts.

"We should go," Jinx says reluctantly. “Before Kade has a complete meltdown and sets something on fire.”

Cyrus hesitates, then pulls me into a stiff hug of his own. "Text us your new address," he mumbles against my hair. "We'll figure something out."

The two of them jog to Kade's car, climbing in with backward glances at me. The engine roars to life, tires spitting gravel as Kade peels out of the overlook, leaving Tank and me alone with the setting sun.

"He hates me," I whisper.

Tank shakes his head firmly, his hands moving in the signs I'm fluent in now.Not hate. He’s scared.

"Of what?"

Losing you. His eyes, so soft and sad and kind despite the scars, meet mine.We all are.

The truth of it settles over me like a shadow. I've never lied to them before, at least not about anything that mattered.

But today, I've told the biggest lie of all.

Because deep down, I knoweverythingis going to change. I know Todd won't let me see them again. I know my phone will be monitored, my movements tracked, my freedom ripped away.

I know this is goodbye, even if they don't.

Tank offers me his helmet again, and I take it with trembling hands. But instead of heading toward the trailer park, he turns onto the old county road that winds through the farmland outside town.

I don't question it. I just hold on tighter.

We ride past the creek where we built that doomed raft, past the abandoned barn where Kade taught me to throw a punch, past the field where we used to lie on our backs and watch meteor showers because none of us had anywhere better to be.

Tank takes every detour, every scenic route, like he's trying to stretch this night into something infinite. His back is solid and warm, and I try to memorize the feel of it—the leather, the rumble of the engine vibrating through our bodies, the way his muscles shift when he takes a turn.

He knows. Maybe not the specifics, but he knows something's wrong. Something bigger than a new address and a rich stepfather.

And this is his way of giving me more time. Givingusmore time. More moments to hold onto when everything falls apart.

When Tank finally pulls up to my trailer, the sky has gone full dark and the stars are out in force. I slide off the bike but I don't let go of his arm right away. Tank cuts the engine, and the sudden silence feels enormous.

You'll be okay,he signs, but it's more question than a statement.

“Yeah,” I murmur, pulling off the helmet and fighting back the tears I let spill on the ride when he couldn’t see me cry. “I’ll be okay.”

He reaches out, his massive hand cupping my cheek with impossible gentleness. His thumb brushes away a tear I didn't know had slipped out. For a long moment, we just look at each other, and I realize we’re memorizing each other’s faces. I wish for one desperate moment I could see the rest of his. But I can’t ask for that.

I'll find you,he signs.If you need me. I'll always find you.

"I know," I whisper. "I know you will."

And suddenly, I’m pushing myself up on my tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, right over the scar that cuts through his eye. He freezes, staring at me, his fingers trembling as he touches the spot where I just kissed him like he can’t believe what just happened.

I force myself to walk toward the trailer without looking back.

And I can only do it because I’m already telling another lie. That this isn’t goodbye, it's see you later. That I'll find a way—a way to fix everything, to hang onto the four pillars who've always held me up when everything else was collapsing.

This lie’s just for me.

But I feel his eyes on me. And when I finally break and glance over my shoulder, he's still there, silhouetted against the dying light.

His hand rises. Pinky extended. Index finger. Thumb. The same handshape asI love you.