Page 7 of Lost With My Enemy

"Right." My neck gets warm, which is unexpected. "I can sleep in the truck. Done it before."

"In the truck."

"I've got a sleeping bag, a camp pad. It's August. I'll be fine."

"You are not sleeping in the truck for fourteen nights."

"Why not?"

"Because it's uncivilized, and because you're doing me a favour by driving me across the country, and the least I can do is make sure you sleep indoors."

"Honestly, I don't mind. I've slept in way worse places."

"That doesn't make it acceptable."

She's already on her phone, scrolling through the booking app, frowning at something.

"Most of the one-bedrooms have a couch," she says. "You take the couch."

"Works for me."

"And I'm locking the bedroom door."

"Also works for me."

"Not because I think you're dangerous."

"Good to know."

"Because I have a routine. Night routine, morning routine. It requires privacy."

"Elise. You don't have to explain."

She stops scrolling. Her fingers hover over the screen for a second, then she nods once, sharp and decisive, and goes back to her spreadsheet.

We drive in silence for twenty minutes past Kingston, the St. Lawrence visible in flashes between trees. My phone buzzes in the cupholder.

Bro how's the road trip going. is she as intense as Sloane says.

Griffin. Of course.

We've been driving for 90 minutes and she's already reorganized my glove box.

LMAOOO told you. She's great though. Give it time.

She made a laminated itinerary.

With tabs?

No tabs. But there's an appendix.

My thumb hovers over the keyboard, but there's no good response to that. Through the windshield, the highway bends north toward the Ottawa exit, and sunlight moves across the dashboard, catching the threads of Mom's dream catcher. Blue and white. Her favourite colours. She made it the winter before she got sick, sitting at the kitchen table in the Calgary house with her reading glasses pushed up on her forehead, humming a song I can never quite remember.

Two years. It's been two years, and I still can't remember the song.

You're going to love her dude.

Also you're still coming to ivy hollow right? Sloane’s friend is getting married at some vineyard and there's a music festival the same week. She's already got your room at the inn sorted.