by Jessi Kirby
“Honor? You sure you’re all right in there?”
I shook my head at my pitiful reflection, then tried to suck it up even though I wanted to cry. And open the door and bury my face in her shoulder and tell her I wasn’t near all right. That I’d lost my one chance to meet Kyra Kelley and tell her about Finn, like he asked me to do. The one thing he’d asked me to do. And now the one thing I’d failed at, all because I’d been trying to show off for Rusty. Thank god I hadn’t had the tickets with me. Or his letter.
I tried to clear the regret lumped at the back of my throat. “I’m fine, thank you,” I called through the door. “I’m just gonna get cleaned up.” I reached out a shaky hand and turned on the water, hoping that was enough to send her on her way. Right now, all I wanted was a shower. And a magical cure for my own stupidity.
“Grease,” Bru said, when I stepped into the kitchen. “Best cure for a hangover.” He was sitting at the table, finishing up what had been a plate of eggs, bacon, and potatoes. Rusty stood at the stove with his back to me, pushing something around a pan with a spatula. I swallowed down my nausea.
“What about bad decisions?” I asked, pulling out a chair next to Bru. “Got a cure for those too?” Rusty turned around then with a smile that confirmed my fear that I hadn’t just thought about kissing him. I dodged his eyes and turned to Bru. “I think I might’ve made a few last night.”
Bru raised an eyebrow. “That one’s a lot trickier.” He looked from me to Rusty in a way that seemed like he’d added some things up, then sopped up the last of his runny egg yolk with a bit of toast. “Nothing easy for that. Humility, mostly.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and pushed his chair back from the table, then walked over to Rusty with his empty plate. “I gotta head out, but you can use whatever tools I got out there, all right?”
“Thank you,” Rusty said.
Bru patted him on the arm. “And thank you for breakfast. That’s the best cookin’ I’ve had in a while. Truly.” He grabbed his hat off the hook and put it on. “I’ll be back before you go.”
I nodded as Bru stepped out of the kitchen, leaving me and Rusty alone, which was awkward in about eight different ways. He didn’t look nearly as bad as I felt. Actually, he was all bright eyed and clean shaven. He walked over with two plates of picture-perfect breakfast and set one in front of me, then sat down across the table. I waited for it. For him to come out with some comment about me, and him. And me kissing him. He didn’t, though. He just picked up his fork and used the edge of it to slice into his sunny-side-up egg.
I watched him chew and decided he was holding out to make me bring it up first. “I didn’t know you could cook,” I said, intent on not bringing it up at all.
“You didn’t know I could dance, either, until last night.” He smiled, then shoveled a bite of egg and potatoes into his mouth. There it was. I knew it. I did kiss him. He pointed with his empty fork at my plate. “You should eat something. It might help.”
That would definitely not help. “No thanks,” I said, pushing my plate away. “Still a little queasy over here.” A new strategy for dealing with this whole thing occurred to me, and I tried to sound as casual as I could. “So . . . we must’ve had a lot to drink last night. I mean, I don’t remember anything. I probably had no idea what I was doing.”
Rusty laughed. “Oh, you knew what you were doing. Between the dancing on the stage and the body shot you took off Shana, you seemed like an old pro.”
“What? Are you serious?” I needed to get up and run far, far away before this could get any worse.
Rusty almost choked on a laugh. I wished he would have. “Calm down, I’m just giving you a hard time.”
I tried to be relieved. “So . . . I didn’t, then . . . do those things?” Actually, those things might’ve been better than having kissed him.
Rusty smiled and took another bite, taking a long moment to chew and swallow before answering. “No,” he said. “You didn’t.”
“Okay, good.” I pulled my plate back toward me and picked up my fork like I might actually eat. “So . . .” I took a deep breath, braced myself for the worst. “What did I do? Besides have Wade Bowen autograph my chest?” Rusty’s eyes went to the black smudge that peeked out of my tank top, and he smirked. Again. At me.
God, this was getting old. I was gonna have to suck it up and ask. Just get it over with, pride be damned. I rested the fork on my plate and leveled my tired eyes as best I could at Rusty, hating the question that was on the tip of my tongue. Then I stalled. “I need to ask you something.”
Rusty sat forward and folded his hands on the table. “Ask away.” He grinned.
I took a deep breath and let it out slow. “Okay. Um . . . did we kiss last night? Because if we did—if I kissed you . . . that was a big, tequila-filled mistake. Huge.” I spread my hands wide in the air to show just how big. “Because I don’t even think of you . . . it’s just wrong, and I didn’t mean it. I mean, if I did. Kiss you. Which I don’t remember.” I stabbed a potato and shoved it in my mouth to shut myself up and chewed it with plenty of humility.
Rusty looked at me like the question surprised him, then like he was entertained by the prospect, and I saw a tiny glimmer of hope. Maybe I hadn’t. Maybe we’d just danced and I never tried. But now he knew I’d thought about it, or else why would I ask? Damn it. My head throbbed again.
He slowly put his feet up, one at a time, on the empty seat between us, then laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back, getting good and comfortable.
I wanted to punch him. “Rusty, come on.”
“Tell me somethin’, H,” he said with a smile. “Did you want to kiss me last night?”
I didn’t answer. This was fun for him, making me wonder. He was enjoying this whole thing.
“It’s okay, you know, if you did,” he continued. “You definitely wouldn’t be the first girl to lose control of herself over me.” He paused and looked right at me. “But then again . . . would you really want me to tell you if you did? ’Cuz you don’t seem too happy about that prospect, either.” He smirked. “Which probably would be a first.”
“Rusty—” How did I ever find him remotely attractive?
“You seen my keys?” Celia asked as she walked in. She did a quick scan of the kitchen counter. Rusty motioned at the key rack near the door, which held a set that had to be hers. I poked my fork at the egg on my plate, trying to look like we weren’t just having the discussion we’d been having. “Aw thanks, honey. I shoulda known. Bru always hangs them up for me.” She gave me a once-over. “You sure you’re okay, Honor?”
“Just fine, thank you,” I muttered.
“We’re good,” Rusty said, smiling at me. “Just talkin’ about how it’s not proper to kiss and tell.” He reached across the table and grabbed a piece of my bacon, crunching it as he stood. “You weren’t gonna eat that, were you?”
I wondered what would happen if I threw my breakfast at him right then. That probably wouldn’t be very proper either. “No,” I said, pushing my plate away. “Lost my appetite.”
Rusty snorted and snapped up my other piece of bacon before he stacked our plates and took them to the sink. “I’m gonna go get that hose changed out, then give the dirty porn-star car a little tune-up before we get back on the road.” He glanced over at me for a reaction, and I almost smiled at the flash of that conversation. Almost. Rusty leaned back against the counter. “You wanna give me a hand? So you know how to take care of your own car?”
“No. I don’t.” I turned to Celia. “You still have that stack of gossip magazines? I want to see if I can find out anything else about Kyra Kelley before we go.” It was a hollow excuse, especially considering I had no illusions now that I would actually get to meet her. I had no idea where I could have left the phone number Ashley had given me. The best I could hope for at this point was that we’d make it to the show. I still had the tickets, at least, and now there was no way I could let Finn’s gift be wasted. Not after what it must’
ve taken him to get them.
Celia looped her jangly purse over her shoulder. “Sure thing, honey. They’re all there in the living room. And I’ll see if there’s any new ones out when I’m in town, okay? I’ll be back in a little bit.”
“Thank you,” I said, as sweet as I could. It wasn’t her I was mad at.
Celia stepped out the door, leaving me in the kitchen with a splitting headache, a turning stomach, and the near certainty I’d lost all sense the night before and gone and kissed her son, who was now leaning against the counter looking amused as heck by the whole thing.
“Anything else you’ll be needin’, princess?” he asked.
“Yeah, actually, there is.”
Rusty cocked his head. “And what’s that?”
“I need for you to not talk to me right now.” I slid my chair back from the table and stood to go. “This is starting to feel pointless, I feel like I got run over by a truck, and I don’t want any crap from you about it, okay?”
His face fell just a little, but he was quick to recover. “Fine with me,” he said. “I’ll be outside. Fixing your car. For your trip.” He ducked out the door, then shut it with a force that hammered at my temples.
My trip. That’s what Finn had meant it to be when he sent me that letter. But when I got in the Impala and pointed it at California, I’d wanted it to be our trip. Mine and Finn’s. I’d wanted to take his car and his letter and that pinch of dust and give him something impossible in return. A send-off he’d be proud of, no matter how crazy it sounded.
All I’d done, though, was go off course—miles and miles from where I should have been, and I didn’t know where to begin to find my way back now.
26
“I don’t have a map,” Celia said, “but this should get you there.” She handed me a MapQuest printout. “It says it should take around seven hours, so you’ll make it there by this evening.” She squeezed my arm. “I’m so happy for you, honey. Your brother would be proud of you doing this for him.”
“Thank you.” I didn’t argue, just set the papers down on the passenger seat and squinted at her in the bright sunlight that made my head ache even worse.
“You’re welcome, but it’s me who should be thanking you.” She hugged me to her tiny frame, and I tried not to stiffen.
“Why?” I asked, pulling away as gently as I could.
She glanced toward the garage, where Rusty was talking with Bru, then motioned for me to lean in. “Just that you . . . and this trip . . . it’s good for Rusty. He took the news about Finn so hard I thought it might break him in two, I really did. Lord knows he’s got his daddy’s tendencies to deal with things with a bottle. Which is just what he started to do. His energy was so dark for a while there . . .” She glanced at him with eyes that were tender and wet with emotion. “But once he worked things out about you, and about that promise he made to Finn, it gave him something important to focus on, something that mattered, you know?”
I didn’t, actually. I hadn’t realized I was just a chore to look after, or a way for Rusty to feel important. I tried to push away all the implications of what she’d just said to me: that Finn had thought I needed looking after but left anyway, that he’d decided Rusty was the one to do it even though he couldn’t look after himself most the time, that I was still somehow on the outside of their friendship, even now.
“Honor,” Celia said, putting her hand on my shoulder, “I know he can be hard to handle. I do. Which is why I’m thanking you—for being someone worth enough to him to help him through. And for being gracious enough to let him take this journey with you.”
I looked at the ground, not wanting her to see how wrong I thought she was, wishing I could bite my tongue just a little longer, but it was no use. “This isn’t some spiritual journey,” I said. “This is the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.” It felt rotten to say, but it was true. “I was supposed to be at school a day ago, touring campus with everyone else,” I went on. “I took off the day after they put Finn in the ground, lied to my aunt, and haven’t spoken to my best friend since I left. And for what? So I could go to California to see Kyra Kelley’s last show? And hope I got a chance to talk to her about my dead brother who sent me the tickets?” I stood there clinging to anger because it was easier, right then, than facing up to everything else I felt. “This is not a journey. This is just . . .”
Celia smiled gently at me like I hadn’t just let loose on her, then put her arms around me and held me there, all wrapped up in reassurance and the scent of rose oil. She spoke softly, through my hair. “I think this—you . . . and Rusty . . . going to the concert . . . it’s part of something bigger for you. We all do crazy things, and sometimes they don’t make sense until we’ve seen them through, but this—this is something you need to see through. I know it. So you go, like your brother said, and—”
“And what?” Rusty asked as he walked up. He didn’t wait for Celia to answer, just looked right to me. “You ’bout ready to go? Better pee now, ’cuz I’m not stopping till we’re halfway there.”
I felt Celia’s eyes on me, trying to finish what she’d been saying, and I was thankful for an excuse to walk away. She’d brushed awfully close to a lot of things I didn’t want to think about. Already having failed Finn being the biggest one.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, excusing myself. My boots crunched over the red-rock driveway back to the house, almost loud enough to cover up Celia murmuring something to Rusty about being careful with me.
When I came back out a few minutes later, I’d swallowed everything down enough to say our official, polite thank-yous and good-byes to Celia and Bru out by the car. I didn’t argue when Rusty walked around to the driver’s side and got in. If he wanted to drive, that was fine with me. I’d sleep all the way to California and then figure out what to do when we got there. I ducked into the passenger seat and pulled the door shut after me.
Bru bent down to the open window. “You two have a safe trip. And keep your ears open for the universe.” He winked. “Sometimes it whispers.”
“Okay.” I smiled. But I was sure it didn’t have anything else to say to me. I’d already wasted my cosmic grace.
He stood and gave the hood a pat, Rusty turned the key in the ignition, and I sat back against the already hot vinyl seat, shoring myself up for the next seven hours.
“So you’re really not gonna talk to me this entire drive, huh?”
“No,” I said, eyes trained on the ugly, endless nothingness of the landscape outside. We’d made it a surprisingly long time in silence—across the California border, and now we were somewhere in the middle of more desert. “Nothing to talk about.” Why would I want to talk about how I was just a favor Rusty was taking care of for my brother? Or how it turned out to be true that I really couldn’t take care of myself? What I wanted was to stay mad about it, because maybe then those things wouldn’t hurt so much.
He turned down the music. “C’mon, Honor. I’ve known enough girls to know that means there’s plenty you wanna talk about. Why don’t you just yell at me for somethin’ and get it over with?”
I looked over, and he did too for a second before we both looked away again.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at Hell Week or something? Why are you even here?” I said it more to my window than to Rusty, but I felt him shift in the seat.
“Why are you here?” he countered. “You’re supposed to be in Austin, going to school, being a big success, making it worth it.”
“Making what worth it?”
Rusty didn’t answer.
I looked out the dusty window. “I don’t know why I’m here with you. It’s not like Finn made me promise to look after you or anything. At least he had faith in you.” Out the corner of my eye, I saw Rusty glance over at me again, but I kept my eyes on the solid yellow line that went on forever next to us.
He sighed. “It wasn’t like that, H. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. I’m not babysitting you. I got drunk and passed out in y
our car. And then I woke up in New Mexico.”
“You could’ve stayed in Sedona. Or you could’ve turned us around today, back to Texas.”
“You want me to turn around, I will. Say the word.” Rusty slowed the car like he was gonna pull over. “I’ve had about enough of you as you’ve probably had of me, but the road back home is a lot longer right now than the road to the coast, and I’d rather make it all the way to the ocean today than end up back in Big Lake tomorrow. If that’s all right with you.”
The ocean. I’d almost forgotten about it. Seeing Kyra Kelley seemed like a more ridiculous idea every time I thought of it, but the ocean didn’t. I thought of Finn’s letter, and how he’d said to go on a trip and put my feet in the ocean. Rusty wasn’t Lilah, but he had a point. We’d come this far already. “How far away are we?”
“Couple hours.”
“Fine,” I said, climbing into the backseat. “Wake me up when we get there.”
27
“Hey. We’re here.”
Rusty cut the engine. I creaked one eye open enough to see the dotted ceiling of the Pala, or Paula, or whatever we were calling it (her) now. “I don’t have to pee, okay? Keep going.” I rubbed both eyes with the heels of my hands and blinked away what felt like only a few minutes’ sleep.
“No, we’re here.” Rusty grinned back at me, then turned around and looked out the windshield, shaking his head. “I’ll be damned.”
I sat up quick and looked around, trying to get my bearings. We were parked on the side of the highway, in front of a small yellow building with white trim and a sign on the front that read THE SHAKE SHACK. To the side of it was a big blue deck with a giant postcard-perfect palm tree right in the center, its fronds sticking up against the dusky sky like crazy morning hair.
“We’re here here? Oh my god!” I yanked on the metal handle and gave the door a nudge with my shoulder, just as Rusty did the same thing from the front seat. And then we both stepped out into balmy, warm air that smelled like nothing I’d ever smelled before. And then I heard it. Above the sound of the cars zooming by on the highway, I heard a loud crash, a staticlike rush, and then another crash.
