Page 184 of Wild Like Us

I’m about to step away from Booger when we hear ading dingof a bicycle bell. Dawn is nearing, but even through the darkness, I make out Akara.

He pedals harder on a pink child’s bike, fit with a basket and ribbons out of the handles.

He’s in one piece. It’s one of the first times I almost smile.

Sulli exhales relief. “What happened? You’re alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. You both are good?” He jumps off the bike, coming next to us and assessing our ragged states. Sulli nods enough that Akara doesn’t press, and he just explains, “The nearest gas station had cell service. I called a tow truck, but the closest one available is really far away. It’ll takefourhours to get here.”

“Fuck,” Sulli and I say in unison.

Akara seems less concerned. “The shop is actually closer. It’s only another mile away. I called them already. It opens in an hour, but no one picked up. So I bought a bike at the gas station—it was the cashier’s nieces, and I went to the shop, banged on the door, and got ahold of a mechanic. I told him the Jeep’s model, and he said he has the air intake boot and carburetor we need.”

Now I really smile. “What are we waiting for?”

Akara smiles, and we share a bigger one with Sulli before we all return our hands to the Jeep. One more mile to go, and we push together.

All three of us.

For once, the Jeep feels light as air.

45

SULLIVAN MEADOWS

We reachthe small Minnesota town after pushing Booger for five hours. Exactly twenty-four hours until the wedding, I feel hope surge knowing that we can still drive to Philly in time.

Pumpkins are set out beside a burnt-red garage. Ghosts hang from the trees, and fake cobwebs are stretched between toolboxes inside. The sky lightens to a morning blue, but the sun is still hidden.

It’s quiet in the garage. The doors are open to the lonely road while we wait near Booger. After the mechanic brings out the parts, Banks pops the hood, and they talk and start to work their magic.

I’m exhausted. My whole body is sore, but I’m less physically spent and just emotionally wiped out. Akara pockets his phone so he can hold my hand, but before our fingers even clasp together, everything comes crashing down again.

Banks comes over to us fast. “It’s the wrong carburetor for this older model. He thought they would match, but it’s not gonna fit.” He uses the bottom of his white tee to wipe grease off his hands. “We can order parts, but he said they won’t be here for another two days.”

I butt in, “Booger stays here. Shestays here.” I convince myself that nothing bad will happen to my Jeep if we desert her. She’ll survive, and I’llneverforgive myself if we don’t do everything possible to make it to Jane and Thatcher’s wedding.

That’s my cousin. My big sister. I can’t miss her walk down the aisle. Banks can’t miss his twin brother get married.

I’m a bridesmaid. Banks is the best man. Akara is a groomsman. We’reallin the wedding party and supposed to be a part of the ceremony.

I add strongly, “And we don’t have time to argue about it. Salvaging her isn’t a part of the plan anymore.” It hurts when I think about the day my dad gave me the keys. How he started crying with me. My dad rarely cries like that—like something was torn open in him for a second and he was brought back to a place in the sky where he released the ashes of his friend.

He gave me the Jeep because he said I’d get more use out of it. He didn’t want the car to languish in a garage.

I still remember him saying, “Adam Sully took his car around the country, and he’d want someone to go on just as many adventures in it. It’s yours, Sulli. Just promise me you’ll take care of it.”

I promised him, but no matter how painful, I’d break it for Banks.

Softly, Banks asks, “Are you sure?”

“I’m more positive than I’ve ever fucking been,” I tell him with everything in me, my voice shaking with emotion. “I love you more than that car.”

His chest rises, lips parting at my declaration. I told Banks that I love him. It just came out. It came out in front of Akara. Fuck!

Fuck.

I’m dying inside, seeing Akara’s face contort in heartbreak. It hurts like a hundred knives stabbing my lungs. And I’m not that dense that I’d fling anI love youat Akara right now. Because he’ll just see the words as a pity thing.