Page 34 of Roadrunner

He read the label on his bottle and shook his head. “I still can’t believe you’ve got me drinking root beer.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve got me in a leather vest on the back of a Harley.”

He sat up. “You’re a born biker.”

“I am,” I agreed. “You didn’t have to twist my arm to get me on that thing, did you?”

“You didn’t have a choice. You were down to your last sip of water.”

“I had plenty of choices,” I said. “I came with you because I wanted to.”

“I saw your water bottle. You’d have been dead by sundown.” He finished his root beer in two swallows. “I still can’t believe we kissed on that rock.”

“What do you mean?”

“I hadn’t kissed anyone but my mother since high school. Then you show up, and every rule I had went out the window. Who does that? Kisses a stranger the day they meet her?”

“That kiss rearranged something in me,” I said. “For the record.”

“Same.” He set the bottle on the nightstand. “I figured I’d be single forever. Then there you were. Stranded.”

“I broke down in the desert and it turned into the best day of my life.”

He went quiet for a second, somewhere back on that rock. Then he looked at me. “You remember when I asked you what your dreams were?”

“Up there?”

“Yeah.”

I’d never forgotten it. “I remember.”

He moved closer. “What’s changed?”

“With what?”

“Your dreams. You’re two years from graduating, two years smarter. Same dreams, or different ones?”

I hadn’t thought about it in those terms, so I didn’t have an answer ready. When I met Riley I’d been chasing whatever adrenaline would make the day feel like it mattered. I hadn’t been unhappy, exactly. I hadn’t been much of anything.

Now I had everything I needed. The one thing still missing was the same thing that had always been missing. Some version of my parents that actually wanted to be in my life. I knew better than to expect it.

I let myself want it anyway.

“Same as last time you asked,” I said. “A normal life with my parents. It wouldn’t even have to be normal. Different would be enough.”

“They’ll come to your graduation, won’t they?”

“Sure.”

I regretted it the moment it left my mouth. They hadn’t come to my high school graduation. I’d told them about Riley in every message I sent home, and they still hadn’t met him. There was no version of the truth where they showed up for this one either.

“They probably won’t,” I admitted. “If I’m honest.”

He rubbed my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I wish I could do something about it.”

“I’ve got you. The guys. Your family. My friends at school.” I took a drink of root beer. “The only thing missing is a family of my own, someday. If I can’t have one with my parents, maybe I get to build one instead.”

I hadn’t planned to say it. Once it was out, I half expected him to go quiet the way men were supposed to when a woman brought up the future too soon. I made a mental note, too late, to think before I spoke.