Page 109 of Final Drive

She sits with that for a second, turning her empty cup between her palms. Then her eyes narrow.

“Psych major.”

“It comes up.”

Her laugh is sudden and loud enough that the guy at the window glances over. That’s the one. Not the polite laugh or the one she gives Jackson when he’s being an idiot. This one comes from somewhere lower and only seems to happen when she forgets somebody might hear.

A moth the size of a small aircraft immediately throws itself at the light above us.

Reese ducks. “Jesus Christ.”

“It’s a moth.”

“That thing has a mortgage.”

I laugh and get up. “Come on.”

The beach isn’t really a beach. It’s a strip of sand on the lake about a mile and a half off the county road, down an unmarked track nobody finds unless someone shows them where to turn. The entrance sits between two rocks that look exactly like every other rock out here, which is probably why nobody comes down this way.

I take the ruts slow. Reese’s hands rest against my ribs, not clasped around my waist or gripping my jacket how they did the first few times she rode with me. Just there. Warm and flat.

I notice.

I notice everything with her.

When we reach the lake, I kill the engine, and the sudden quiet lasts maybe half a second before the crickets take over. Reese gets off before I do. She leaves her helmet on the seat, pulls off her boots, and walks toward the water.

I stay where I am.

The lake is almost black tonight. The moon isn’t much help, but there’s enough light to see her standing ankle-deep in the shallows, jacket hanging loose around her, face turned toward the water.

I give her a few minutes. She’s had eight people within arm’s reach of her for most of the week. Somebody has been making sure she eats, sleeps, drinks water, answers her phone, doesn’t answer her phone, gets to practice, gets home from practice. All of it necessary.

All of it probably driving her fucking crazy.

Eventually she looks back at me. “Ask me.”

“No.”

Her whole body turns this time. “No?”

I get off the bike and walk down as far as the dry sand. “You’ve been asked for something by pretty much everybody you’ve spoken to since the eighth. Carmine wants blood. Kowalski wanted your father. Vance wanted your collar. Reporters want a quote. The university wants you to keep your head down until nationals.” I sit and stretch my legs out in front of me. “I’m not getting in that line.”

She watches me for a moment before coming a little farther out of the water. “Then why did you bring me here?”

“Because you haven’t been anywhere in six days where somebody wasn’t waiting for you to make a decision.” I nod toward the lake. “You can stand in the water. That’s the whole plan.”

She waits like there’s going to be more.

There isn’t.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“That’s your whole plan?”

“Pretty much.”