27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I shift on the old bench, but I can’t get comfortable. Mia’s words dig into me like my fingers dig into the wood. It creaks in protest. There is no good way to sit on a broken bench.
I check my phone. I’ve gotten thirty more dollars, and Paul will be here in twenty minutes.
I want to wait for Gabe and Mia to talk their brothers into this so they get in less trouble. I want to talk this over with Mia for as long as it takes until we’re good again. I want to wait for the Jeep to get fixed and finish this trip the way we started.
But we can’t. Even though Austin is fixing the Jeep frame, there’s still no radiator.
As much as it sucks to have Mom, Gabe, and Mia so mad at me, if we’re not on the road with Paul by 11:00, there is no way for me to meet David Lombard. I’ll call Mom as soon as he gets here and tell her not to bother flying out. I won’t be here.
I have to do this. They’ll forgive me eventually.
Except . . . what if they don’t? Can I make that trade?
I glance toward the body shop.
When did you become this person, Kendall?
I’m not the person Mia described. Except if that’s true, why do I recognize the picture she painted of me?
It’s not who I want to be.
I stare down the empty road again, this time imagining the view if I cancel with Paul, leaving no hope of seeing a red Ford rattling toward me.
That means no Redding to San Francisco to San Diego.
It means no transfers and depots and tickets. It means no connections.
No connections.
If I call Paul, Leila and Seth may be all I ever get. I want them to be enough, but they’re not. Their genes don’t define me. David Lombard’s do.
Not meeting him means that I may never know what parts of me are me and which parts are him.
The price of seeing this through is so high. I would pay it. Take every consequence. Every punishment. Lose every privilege.
When did you become this person, Kendall?
But I won’t make Mia and Gabe pay it.
I have so many questions about who I am, but there is no question that I’m not the person Mia described.
I call Paul.
“Hey,” I say when he answers. “I’m so sorry, but it looks like I won’t need a ride to Redding after all.”