112. Chapter 112
Stay or drive it away. Stay or drive it away.
He couldn’t drive it. Wouldn’t even know how to start the stupid thing. How did Jase vanish in the time it took Graham to take off his helmet?
He couldn’t drive the motorcycle. He also couldn’t stay. He wouldn’t risk losing the love of his life over a bike that wasn’t even his. Graham made for the doors and the attendant, who must’ve anticipated this, was on him.
“Now I told you, stay with your vehicle, or we’ll have to tow it.”
“Fine, tow it,” Graham said.
“That’s not a good idea, Graham.”
He froze at the woman—the goddess—walking through automatic doors in front of him.
“Helen?”
“You don’t want to let his bike get towed,” she said. “He just took a hit in there.”
Graham exhaled and some of the pressure left his lungs. “You’re still here.”
She didn’t leave.
She wasn’t rushing into his arms, bestowing him with kisses and forgiveness, either.
“I needed space, not a quick exit,” she explained, keeping an annoyingly large distance from him. “I should leave though. She didn’t deserve what you did.”
“Really?” His eyes narrowed. “Two days ago, you punched her in the face. Since when do you care about Lindsey?”
“Since I realized she’s not in love with you anymore.”
“It’s never been about love.”
“For a woman it’s always about love.”
“All right,” he said, venturing a step closer. “Is that why you stranded me in Santa Cruz? For dropping the ball?”
“I was helping a friend.”
“She’s not your friend.”
“She was the closest thing I had at the time. Besides,” she added, “I felt bad for her. She falls for a jerk—”
“I’m not a jerk.”
“You are, but I wasn’t talking about you.”
Graham pursed his lips and shook his head to clear it. She’s here. She’s in front of me. Just keep it that way.
“All right. Then I’m sorry. I was being an asshole.”
She sized him up as if deciding what to do with him.
“You look terrible,” she concluded. “He really messed you up.”
The bruises and blood. He’d forgotten about them already.
“I got in a few good hits,” he said.
She hitched up her chin. “I sold the car.”
“You sold my dad’s car?” he exclaimed.
“With all your stuff in it.”
“Are you kidding?”
She raised an eyebrow, and he finally understood what was happening. She wanted to see how far she could push him until he snapped.
There would be no snapping today—not this close to an exit by airplane.
“Okay,” Graham said slowly.
“For like forty bucks to some teenagers.”
“It wasn’t worth much more than that.”
“They want to spray paint graffiti on the sides and rip the back seats out for surfboards.”
Had he ever given the impression he cared about the wooden wagon?
“Shut up about the car. If you’re trying to hurt me, the only way you can do that is by leaving me.”
“You’re a mess, Graham.” She crossed her arms. “You have to get your life together. You’ve got all this stuff with Jase to sort out.”
“There’s nothing to sort out.”
“There is,” she insisted. “If we’re going to do this, I need you clear in the head. I want to be better than we used to be.”
“We are. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”
“I need more this time.”
“I’ll give you whatever you want. Whatever you need, it’s yours.”
“It might not be up to us,” she said, holding out an envelope that had already been opened.
“What is this?” Graham pulled a letter out and read it, then looked up at her, horrified. “He’s not serious?”
“I think he is, Graham.”
“No. No. This isn’t happening.” He felt his future tumbling, his inheritance check getting farther out of reach. More weeks on the road with his father at the wheel. “I want…we’re supposed to be getting on a plane for Mexico.”
“Not yet.”
“There has to be a way out of this. I didn’t know there’d be another letter. I thought we were done.” He grabbed the sides of his head, crushing the letter to his temple. “I just want to get on a fucking plane.”
“Graham,” she said. “It’s going to be okay.”
“How is it going to be okay? Is it too much to ask to just get married already?”
“You sound like a man who thinks I’m going to leave him.”
“Well, we are at an airport. You did just leave me.”
“We’re going to get married,” she said, taking one of his hands. “We have to do this first. I want to do this first.”
He blinked. She was smiling. His dad was sending them on another road trip, and she looked happy about it.
“You what?” he asked. “You want to do this?”
“Your dad got us this far. Let him take us the rest of the way.”
“You’re talking about driving the car back to Ohio?”
“The letter doesn’t say anything about Ohio. I’m talking about a real road trip, just the two of us.”
“A forced road trip. How is it different from the one we just finished?”
“It’s not about getting to the end just to get a pile of money this time. It’s a chance to build something special. Something better.”
Graham was suddenly aware of the bruises swelling on his cheeks and a steady headache behind his eyes. Another letter. Another trip. Helen eager to get back in the car she’d sold for forty dollars. Three million still a couple thousand miles away.
His fiancée looked perfectly content. A beacon of serenity and acceptance in front of the busy terminal. It didn’t make any sense.
“Are you—did you get stoned on the way here, or something?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not stoned.”
“You know what this means? It’s miles and miles—”
“I know what it means.”
“Why aren’t you fighting this?”
“It’s kind of hard to argue with a dead man,” she said. “Also, he wrote this letter to us before he passed. I have to believe he knew what he was doing.”
Graham dropped the crumpled letter to his side. It wasn’t a map of regimented stops or requirements to send time-stamped photos. Just a simple request.
“I thought you sold the car.”
She fished the keys from her pocket and tossed them into his chest. “No, I just wanted to see how sorry you were.”
Graham snorted. “All right, what about Jase?”
Helen glanced at the bike. The box from unit 31 was sticking out of the saddlebag.
“He has to find his own way, don’t you think?”
He nodded. There was nothing besides Graham and his pride standing in their way, and it wasn’t enough to hold them back this time.
“I love you,” Graham said. “You know that.”
“I do.”
She kissed him, the kind of kiss that ended arguments, and he folded the letter on his father’s words.
Take the car home, kids. Wherever that is, let her get you there.