24. Ahead By a Century
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
ahead by a century
LOGAN
MANITOBA
PRESENT DAY
Fuck, I feel terrible.
Abi’s shut down. She just keeps staring out the window, silently tearing off little pieces of her muffin, and rolling the pastry between her fingers into a little ball. She eats like this when she’s nervous, or embarrassed about something, and it doesn’t take a PhD to guess what’s on her mind.
I could have knocked this morning, but instead I burst in like the Kool-Aid man with a fucking plastic lamp without thinking. It was pretty obvious what she was doing, it’s not like I didn’t grow up with a sister who would frequently forget to put the shower head back in its place. Now we’re halfway through the day, cruising through the middle of some small town I’ve never heard of before. A lot of it looks abandoned, and the grey skies above us don’t give me much hope for the rest of the drive.
“Hey, um… about earlier?—”
She’s already turning red. I can see it out of the corner of my eye.
“Logan—”
“I just wanted to say I shouldn’t have burst in like that while you were meditating?—”
“You’re making it worse,” she whispers, her cheeks practically fuchsia.
“I just— It’s not so bad! We’ve seen each other naked before, and?—”
“Logan!”
My name comes out of her like a half-laugh, half-bark.
“Okay, I’m sorry!” I sigh, offering her a sheepish smile. “I really am sorry, Abi. Seriously.”
I don’t want things to be weird. It throws off our shtick. I’ve got kooky antics and she laughs at said antics and eggs me on. That’s our thing. It’s always been our thing. It’s not like I haven’t thought about throwing caution to the wind, especially after Roman and Imogen’s relationship exploded. That whole thing gave me some hope that Abi and I might actually be able to do it too, if we managed to get so fed up we just said fuck it, and ignored all of the reasons it’s a terrible idea.
Sure, Roman ended up quitting his job, and my sister transferred schools just so they could be together, but they did it. I mean, they also almost didn’t really have a choice of anything but leaving in disgrace, but they got lucky.
So, I guess that’s the question: am I willing to give up my job for her?
My mom says that a relationship should enhance your life, but it shouldn’t be your life— and I think she’s probably right about that. I love Emerald Bay University, and I don’t know if I have the stomach to leave after all the work I’ve done and the people I’ve met.
I know Abi feels the same way.
When my dad died, my sister shut down. She refused to let anyone into her life until she met Roman. Me? I went the opposite direction. I’ve been wearing my heart on my sleeve, like a badge that screams, please just fucking love me .
And I found the one person who might just be able to do that.
She soothes something restless in me, a part deep inside that’s been yearning for this kind of connection, of companionship, for most of my adult life. The worst part is, I’m certain I could never find someone like her again, even if I met every single one of the 7 billion people in the world.
“I’m so embarrassed,” Abi mutters, her head turned off to the side.
“Hey, look on the bright side: maybe in the next hotel, there’ll be a centipede in our room and I can be the one to scream like a girl. I’ve got a good set of pipes on me, as you well know.”
Abi stays silent, staring out the window.
“You’re supposed to laugh at that, you know. It’s a classic bit! Me screaming like a girl?—”
“Maybe we should book separate rooms for tonight.”
I keep my eyes on the road, feeling the grin that was so wide on my face falling back into neutral. The suggestion shouldn’t hit as hard as it does. Falling asleep next to her has been the highlight of the trip so far, her soft skin, the way she smelled, and even her snore was sort of adorable… until I had to elbow her to get her to stop.
“Sure,” I reply. “Of course, whatever you need.”
I’m terrified the rest of the drive is going to be like this, mired in an awkward silence, but thankfully she pipes back in after only a minute or so.
“Are you mad?”
“No,” I laugh a little awkwardly. “Not at all. If that’s what makes you feel comfortable, that’s what we’ll do. We can re-book two rooms tonight when we get into— where are we ending up, anyway?”
“Swan River,” she replies, pulling out her phone.
“Does the river look like a swan? Because if not, I’m complaining to the mayor. I’ll write the strongest worded letter a Canadian has ever read.”
“Oooh, with swears?” Abi teases.
I lean over, cupping one hand around my mouth.
“The eff word ,” I whisper. “I’m bringing out the big guns.”
She snickers, cheeks still a little pink as she scrolls through her phone. If I had a nickel for the amount of times Abi’s been blushing around me lately, I’d probably be able to trade them in for one of those godforsaken toonies. I know this whole thing’s been humiliating for her, but she’s so fucking cute.
“Well, I’ve never spent the time mapping out the exact shape of the river, but I do know there is a giant swan statue. Everyone makes their way over there when they’re heading through, so you can take all the goofy pictures you want.”
“Only if you’re in them with me, Shortcake.”
Suddenly, as if on cue, I hear a loud pop from the car, and it feels like we’re being yanked off to the side of the road. Abi yelps as I try to regain control over the wheel. I can’t accelerate, so I take my foot off the gas and do my best to keep the car straight, hoping that’ll be enough to make sure I don’t accidentally fucking kill us.
And then I hear that unmistakable sound.
Flap, flap, flap, flap.
“Fuck, did we blow a tire?!” She squeals.
“Hang on!”
My heart is racing as I wrench the wheel hard to the right, trying to pull off to the side of the road. Abi squeaks as she reaches up to clutch the grab handle, her body going rigid as memories of my old drivers test from 20 years ago flash through my head. Despite what Imogen always says about my driving, she’s the one who drives like she’s a character in a Fast and fucking Furious movie, and this is probably the one time I wish she was at the wheel.
After struggling for the longest few seconds of my life, I spot a small patch of gravel off to the side of the road and manage to stop the car. The two of us let out a collective breath, taking a moment to let our heart rates slow.
“Let me check the trunk. I think there’s a spare tire in there.”
It’s just one more thing to go wrong on this damn road trip.
“I’ll help you.”
She unbuckles her seatbelt.
“I’m fine, Abi. You can sit tight, I’ll?—”
“Logan Michael Flynn, if you pull this macho shit I’m going to smack you so hard a blown tire will be the last of your problems,” she snaps. “Shut your mouth and let me help.”
I blink, too surprised to respond before she hops outside and slams the door.
Out and away from the blessing that is modern air conditioning, it’s so humid it’s actually hard to breathe; worse, it smells like rain’s coming, and my suspicions are confirmed when I look off into the distance and see a particularly sinister cloud formation. I’m so used to the Pacific Northwest, and seeing mountains framing the horizon in most directions, but out here there’s nothing but wide open space.
Nothing to slow down the inevitable.
“We’ve gotta move,” she murmurs. “Those things look like they’re ready to burst, and I’m pretty sure they’re headed this way.”
“Agreed.”
We rush to the trunk and I drag out the spare tire, while Abi finds the jack and lug wrench. The smell of petrichor ramps up around us, and I kneel down next to the burst tire and get to work. It probably shouldn’t surprise me, but we function well as a team, sliding into our roles as I loosen the bolts and she jacks up the car.
My dad taught me everything I know about cars, and I learned how to change to a spare when I was barely 10 years old. He was always in the garage, especially when he needed to think, or take a break from working on a paper. He said that seeing all those parts laid out around him helped put things into perspective. After he got diagnosed with cancer, we spent a lot of time fixing up junkers and pet-projects alike. We didn’t talk much about his illness in that garage, in fact we didn’t talk about much of anything other than cars. I think he was thankful just to be doing something close to normal at that point.
I finished up the Jaguar after he died.
It was my way of telling him that I would be okay without him.
“Grab me that tire?”
In the distance, I hear the roar of thunder, and I glance over at Abi, reaching out my hand.
“On it.”
Abi rolls it over to me, holding it still as I place the bolts and tighten them one by one. Suddenly, with only a couple left to finish. the sky opens up. Abi shrieks, letting out a loud laugh as she tries to keep her grip on the tire; we’re immediately drenched, the deluge of warm summer rain completely enveloping everything in seconds.
“Logan, hurry up!”
“I’m trying, just one or two left!”
Water pours down my face and I feel Abi reach over, brushing my hair out of my eyes so I can stay focused. When I finally secure the last bolt we’re immediately on our feet, dashing over to toss the old tire back into the trunk. Abi’s jet black hair is plastered to her face, and she’s soaked from head to toe.
Another clap of thunder echoes through the sky, accompanied by the slam of the trunk as we rush for our doors. The two of us burst out laughing, the adrenaline flowing as the rain continues buffeting the windshield.
I glance over, quickly catching sight of Abi’s pebbled nipples sticking out under her soaked t-shirt; it’s difficult to fight the urge to lean over and bite down until she squirms.
I didn’t expect to see so much of her this morning, and I haven’t been able to crush the thoughts that came along with the view. All of those feelings that got brought right to the surface are still swirling around inside me, and now we’re here, and I don’t know what the fuck to do about them.
I keep thinking about her soft skin, and that little splash of freckles adorning her hip. The ones that I traced with my tongue that first magical night. Thankfully, the only thing drowning out my rising horniness is the extremely irritating sound of the rain, and what I’m shocked to say must be hail, hammering against the roof of the car.
“Earth to Logan.” Abi raps gently on my head with her knuckles. “You in there, Sunshine?”
She’s staring at me like I have two heads.
“I left a hair tie in the cup holder, have you seen it?”
“Yeah— I— uh… I don’t know. Maybe it got thrown out accidentally?”
Abi lets out a groan before climbing into the back seat, giving me a full view of her perfect ass.
“What are you doing?” I ask, carefully adjusting my quickly stiffening cock in my pants, in the vain attempt it won’t be incredibly obvious if she just happens to look down.
“I need something to put my hair up. The water dripping down the back of my neck is a fucking sensory—” She grunts as she starts to pry the back seat open, trying to get into the trunk. “Nightmare!”
Her skirt rides up as she struggles, giving me a distressingly good view of her lacy red panties.
Do not look.
Do not think about her like that.
Think about anything other than tearing them off with your teeth.
Maybe baseball?
Do Umpires ever get hit in the nuts accidentally? Why are the beers so expensive at the games? Why does Frankie scream at the TV like he’s a deadbeat dad getting divorced when his team’s playing?
And why are the games so long? They should have baseball cheerleaders. Abi would look so good in one of those skirts, I bet she’d?—
Fuck.
“It’s really coming down,” I murmur, making sure to look straight ahead.
I hate a full circle moment.
Suddenly, something hits me in the back of my head, and it takes a few seconds of blindly fumbling behind me before I realize it’s a t-shirt. Abi crawls back into the front seat, plopping herself down and using the shirt to start wringing out her hair.
“Sorry,” she mutters. “Didn’t mean to toss it that hard.”
I glance over and shrug, watching her for a bit before a giant clap of thunder overhead makes us both jump. It only took a few minutes to get so dark it feels like we skipped the afternoon, almost like night is already descending. Even with my wipers on, the visibility is complete shit. I wouldn’t even drive in this in Emerald Bay, much less a city I don’t even know.
“How long do you think this is going to last?” I ask.
“Well, the good news is that there are no mountains around here to trap the storm, so normally it would move along quickly.” Abi wipes her face, digging out her phone and swiping through it. “The bad news is it seems like the wind patterns are gonna keep it stuck here for another hour at least. You wanna wait it out on the side of the road?”
“Probably should,” I mutter, spotting a lightning strike off in the distance.
“I know it’s kinda lame, but lightning sorta freaks me out.”
Her tone is wavering a little, and she’s obviously unnerved.
“We get really bad thunderstorms in Blackburn, and I was always terrified that I’d get struck by lightning whenever I got caught outside.”
“Did you know 28 people in the United States die from lightning strikes every year?”
“No,” she laughs, whacking me in the arm. “And that’s definitely a stat I could have gone not knowing, Dr. Flynn.”
“Sorry,” I mumble, turning on the car radio to distract myself.
From her. From this road trip. From us.
I told myself I agreed to play out this cute little lie to help out a friend, but that’s bullshit. I did it because it’s the closest I’ll get to the real thing. We’ve both said so many times that we’re just friends, and it’s all we’re ever going to be, so if I want to taste the life I could have had, this is it. This is the only way it’s happening.
The rain hammers against the roof of the car, the sound drowning out every last thought in my head, except for one.
“Have you heard of multiverse theory?” I ask.
She glances back at me, looking bewildered.
“Multi-what?”
“You know, multiple universes, that different versions of us exist in. Places where things are… different.” I shrug. “Like, say, if you took a different job, or maybe you ended up dating Sebastian Stan?—”
She grins.
“Oooh, where’s that universe? I want in!”
Now I’m wondering how well alternate-universe Sebastian Stan could fight. Maybe I could beat him if I went for the knees.
“Why are you asking me this, Logan?”
“Have you ever thought about what one of those universes would be like? Say if you hadn’t taken the job at EBU, or hadn’t gotten a PhD? Maybe one where you didn’t leave Blackburn Falls?”
“I think my life would suck,” she replies flatly. “Those are three of the best decisions I ever made.”
I bite my lip, listening to the soft sigh escape her lips.
“I mean— obviously it probably wouldn’t totally suck, things would just be different, but…” She pauses for a moment, frowning as she tries to figure out how to say exactly what she wants to say. “Ugh, this is going to sound so stupid.”
“Hey, I’m the King of saying dumb shit. You can take pretty much everything I’ve said today as evidence of that.”
She snorts, looking a bit more comfortable after another one of my stupid jokes.
“Well, if I’d stayed in Blackburn, if I’d married Brendan, if I hadn’t gone for my PhD… I wouldn’t have been happy– not really, I don’t think. And I wouldn’t have found Emerald Bay. Or any of you.”
“And I wouldn’t have spilled my drink on you,” I snicker. “Sometimes the smallest things make the biggest ripples.”
Abi’s straight-faced, clutching the t-shirt so tightly in her hands her fingers are almost bone white. Her eyes blaze, piercing into mine with such a vicious intensity that it makes the back of my neck heat up. I can’t tell if the rain’s picked up even more, thundering against the car, or it’s just the blood roaring in my ears.
“Do you believe in fate?” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “Like… that things are meant to happen the way they do?”
Out of the corner of my eye I catch another flash of lightning, but Abi refuses to take her eyes off me.
“Do you?” I ask.
She gnaws on her lip. Is this really happening right now? Are we having this conversation?
“You asked me if I think about alternate universes, and I sorta do. I’m constantly thinking about another place, or maybe it’s more like a different road, one that leads to a different future, a place where…”
The hairs on my neck stand up as she trails off.
I want to tell her that she’s all I think about.
That if we let it happen, my entire world would revolve around her, that the love I have for her hasn’t ever faded, not even a little, just shifted into something I’m trying to outrun.
“Where what?”
I need her to say it.
“A future where what, Abi?”
Her chin quivers and her eyes fill with tears.
“Where we made it.”