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I pack up the truck, get her a sandwich for the road, and settle things with Lula. Then, we’re on the road by noon.

I’m feeling pretty good after the absolutely mind blowing sex we had in the motel. It might be the best I’ve had in…I don’t actually know how long, maybe ever. It wasn’t just the sex, though. It was everything. It’s amazing what being around good people with no expectations, having a good meal, sleeping all night, and getting laid in the morning will do. There’s a recurring sensation in my chest that I’m not familiar with anymore. It’s been coming and going the last few days, but today, I think I know what it is: interest.

I’m interested in where we’re going.

In what we’re planning on doing.

I’m looking forward to wherever we land tonight, what we’ll eat, what we’ll do when we get in bed together.

The sensation is like…coming back to life, a trickle at a time.

“Where do you want to go?” I ask, flipping on the cruise control and settling back once we’re on the highway.

“Hmm…what state will we be in by the afternoon?”

I touch her thigh. She’s in these little pink shorts that show miles of tanned leg, a rope bracelet around her ankle. She put a little linen shirt over her bikini top, and it’s giving me a nice view of her stomach. Forcing myself to drag my eyes back to the road, I tap the screen to bring up the map.

“We’ll be in Texas around mid-afternoon,” I say.

“What’s in Texas?”

“Lots of things.”

“The world’s biggest ball of yarn,” she says. “In Lubbock.”

“I’ve never heard of that before.”

“I don’t know if that’s real. It’s in this TV show I used to love before they cancelled it,” she says. “It’s like sci-fi, end of the world. Dystopian. ”

“What’s it called?”

“Revolution or something. Have you seen it? It’s kind of niche, but I had a huge dystopian phase when that’s all I wanted to read and watch.”

I shake my head. “I don’t have a lot of time to watch TV. Or movies.”

She frowns, shifting so she can face me and crossing her legs. “Is that it? Or are you just not interested in anything?”

That makes me take a pause and think.

“I haven’t been interested,” I admit.

“What do you do at night? To unwind?”

The highway is getting a little fuller as we near a city. I flip off the cruise and sit up in my seat.

“I work out a lot to deal with the adrenaline,” I say. “I have a lot of issues coming down after being on stage.”

“Why’s that?”

I shrug, fingers tightening. My pulse accelerates slightly. “It’s like the craziest drug you’ve taken. Tons of adrenaline, people screaming, pressure, and you perform in real time, live. While it’s going on, it feels so fucking good, you don’t want it to end. But when you step off the stage, it’s the biggest crash you’ve ever felt.”

“Like a depressive crash?”

“Just like pulling a plug. When I did my first gig as lead guitar for Dax Williams, I used to leave the hotel at midnight and pace in the street all night until Jamie found out. It wasn’t safe anymore, not with people starting to recognize me. That was about a year before I was pulled aside and told I needed a security guard. Then, there was nowhere to go but to the hotel gym and just run on the treadmill until I was so tired, I couldn’t stay upright.”

She’s quiet. Then, she touches my forearm.

“I appreciate you telling me things,” she says, offering a soft smile. “I know it doesn’t come easily to you.”