Ashley looked across the hilltops at Fran and John. They’d successfully broken away from Paul, tucked behind a lone juniper tree, apparently under the impression that no one could see them. The early morning sunlight caught them there and Ashley felt a pang of longing in her stomach. She and Tristan had stolen moments like this before, ducked just out of sight. When she closed her eyes, Ashley could still hear the raspy sound of their breathless laughter.
When she opened her eyes, something was different. There was a third shadow with John and Fran. Ashley narrowed her eyes. It was another face, wedged just between them, staring across the hills. Staring at Ashley.
The world was too calm, too still, too silent.
A voice breathed in her ear. “I am—”
“Ashley,” Bug said.
The world snapped back into focus. Ashley blinked and the shadow between John and Fran was gone. The morning was as wide and bright as it always was. Ashley’s heart raced, her lungs aching for air. It was just her imagination, but for a moment, she had been sure the shadow was shaped like Tristan.
“Sorry,” Ashley said, rubbing her eyes. “I spaced out for a second. I … I think I’m just tired.”
Bug gave her a sympathetic frown. “I have some of my mom’s melatonin if you wanna try that.”
“I’m okay,” Ashley said. “Thanks, though.”
The morning rolled on, but they found nothing. Ashley and Bug scoured their assigned area, turning over every rock, rifling through every cluster of Scotch broom, checking every dusty ravine, but Ashley knew without searching that Tristan wasn’t in these hills. She knew the sound of his heartbeat, the pattern of his footsteps, the small hush of his breath when he was about to speak. If he was this close, she would feel him.
He was just out of her reach, but he still was.
He still existed.
He wasn’t gone yet.
5
Eat The Blues
A knock sounded from the door between Logan’s room and her fathers’。
She’d successfully converted her bed into a comforter cocoon, surrounded by an array of her favorite depression snacks. Most hardships only called for one: embarrassment was chips dipped in pickle juice, anger was vanilla ice cream drizzled with soy sauce, and loneliness was bananas covered in Cheez Whiz.
But tonight was a true rock bottom. Tonight required all three.
“Come in,” Logan groaned.
She minimized her tab of US road trip ideas and clicked off the TV. They walked into the room—Alejo with Brandon at his heels—to survey the damage. The motel room was stuffy and hot with the smell of mold and sweat.
“The holy trinity all at once, huh?” Alejo whispered, eyeing the snack buffet. He sat on her mattress and popped a slice of Cheez Whiz banana into his mouth. Instantly, his nose wrinkled up and he forced himself to swallow. “Kids today have no standards.”
“I have standards,” Logan said.
“We heard Judy through the walls,” Alejo said. “Judy reruns. And don’t tell me the plot sucked you in. You and me already watched them all.”
Logan flopped back against her pillow and the stifling scent of dust clouded up around her. “We’re in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of MAGA hat–wearers. Everyone is creepy and weird and I don’t wanna leave my room. But also my room sucks. I’m literally gonna die.”
She’d only been in Snakebite for a week and already felt like she was in the vacuum of space. There was nothing to do here. The walls of her room were too close. Her mattress was too hard. The night sky outside her room was too big and she was sure she’d fall into it if she wasn’t careful. She was going to suffocate here without people to talk to. The next closest town was hours away and probably just as bad. She was miles from help, and tonight Logan felt every mile like fingers closing around her throat.