Chapter 15 Ellis
ELLIS
By the time we hit Mother Road Market in Tulsa, I was ready for lunch.
I was starving, not just for food but for silence.
For a moment alone in my head, where I could unpack whatever the hell had just happened and sort out my thoughts in an organized fashion.
Without Liv shooting me those knowing looks.
The drive into Tulsa had been filled with tense silence as we sat in fresh clothes, each of us trying to ignore the faint pond-water smell still lingering in our hair.
We’d hit the major sights before coming here, only a few things left to check off the itinerary, and it had all blurred together into weird statues and selfie stops.
Buck Atom’s Cosmic Curios, where Dove insisted we each pick out a pin for our bags.
Dove had also managed to secure some fireworks, which had surprised me.
Then the giant oil guy, the Golden Driller, who looked weathered and tired, as if he’d seen too much from where he stood.
I wasn’t even sure where I stood anymore on the whole Americana roadside-kitsch debate, but I couldn’t deny that Dove had looked cute posing with Buck Atom, her sunglasses perched precariously on the tip of her nose, grinning like she hadn’t just taken a faceful of pond water this morning.
I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it—the way Dove’s hands had felt on me when she caught me, trying to steady me.
The press of her body against mine. And that tiny, almost imperceptible flick of her gaze to my mouth that had sent vibrant static zipping through my brain, frying all logic and reason.
But it had to be nothing, right? Just a reflex. She caught me, we were standing close, eyes moved. It didn’t mean she—
Dove startled me as she dropped her tray of food across from me, some sort of nacho dish on her plate. She plopped down with casual ease, propping one foot up on the edge of the bench, regarding me over the lenses of her sunglasses.
“You okay?” Dove asked, picking up a nacho.
I swallowed hard and blinked, grateful for my own sunglasses. “Uh, yeah.”
“You’ve been staring at your burger for a solid minute,” Dove said, popping the nacho into her mouth and sighing blissfully.
I quickly grabbed my burger, taking a bite, then busied myself with my phone, firing off a quick update to my mom before opening TikTok for the first time since uploading.
My eyes nearly bulged at the 50+ notification icons.
I clicked into the posted video, now sitting at 25,000 views and 4. 5k likes, plus 1.2k comments.
“What’s that face?” Dove asked, pausing mid-nacho. “You all good?”
“Yeah,” I said quickly. “It’s just… the video I uploaded has gotten a lot of views. Like, in a really short amount of time. I’d posted part one of the trip and recorded some voiceovers whenever I got a minute alone, but I hadn’t thought it was much.”
But the comments…
“Whoa,” I muttered, scrolling faster. “The comments.”
“What’s it say?” Dove asked as she chewed her corn chip, eyes alight with interest. “Anything about me?”
“‘Watching these videos from my hospital bed in Ohio. Chemo is rough, but you’re making me smile, Ellis. Live your best life, girl.’”
Dove made a noise in the back of her throat, something akin to excitement. “That’s so good! What else?”
“‘My daughter has the same condition you did. She’s eleven. Thank you for showing her that there’s a lot more road ahead of her. Literally.’”
“Oh, that’s a good one,” Liv murmured, suddenly sitting beside me on the bench.
“‘Ellis, you’re living proof that miracles can and do exist. Keep living loudly.’”
A sudden sting behind my eyes had me setting the phone down. I blinked hard and took a forceful bite of my burger.
“See?” Dove said, her voice softer. “You’re helping people.”
I shrugged and bit my lip. “I mean, it’s just documenting what we’re doing. Who wants to see that?”
“People who can’t,” Liv said, nudging my arm with her shoulder.
A chill ran through me at the contact, and my heart stuttered.
“Okay, while I’m super happy that little Miss TikTok might be forging a new path here, I want to talk about tonight.” Liv propped her chin on her hands and looked to Dove expectantly, who suddenly resembled a deer in headlights.
“Uh...”
“Tonight?” I asked, frowning. “We’ll be in Oklahoma City.”
“Yeah, so I’m hijacking the itinerary, after dinner, of course,” Dove said quickly, as if she’d seen my face pale. “We’re going to go out tonight.”
“Go out?” I repeated, alarm creeping into my voice. “What do you mean?”
“Well, my own TikTok FYP has gotten a little too local, but this bar keeps popping up, called Frankie’s. It’s a lesbian dive bar. I’m talking darts, drag, and some live music.” Dove’s eyes shone with delight. “And you can’t say no.”
“B-but,” I stammered, scrambling for an excuse, “I mean, I didn’t really pack going-out clothes.”
“It’s a dive bar,” Dove said simply, shrugging. “You can wear jeans and a T-shirt and pass.”
“I’m so excited,” Liv squeaked beside us, clapping her hands.
“I don’t drink,” I pointed out, as if that might save me.
“You don’t have to,” Dove said. “Neither do I, really. Come on, let’s go play some darts and listen to some music. Let’s have some fun outside of sightseeing and museums.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek and tried to ignore the sweat gathering on my palms as I mentally took stock of the clothes I’d brought with me and whether I had anything I deemed suitable.
This hadn’t been the plan.
The plan had been gas stations, historic stops, and safe motel beds—with zero emotional or romantic hazards—and so far, it was shaping up to be the complete opposite.
“‘Dancing Queen...’” Liv began singing, humming along to the ABBA tune with glee in her eyes. Then she looked down at her clothes with a pout. “Of course, I’m wearing the perfect outfit and no one will see it. God, being dead can be such a drag.”
It was with a pit of dread in my stomach that I eyed the now-frowning clerk at the front desk of the budget motel I’d prebooked and paid for online. I knew something was clearly wrong with the booking, and that I was not about to like what she had to say.
“Confirm that number on the booking for me again, love?” the woman drawled, chewing a large wad of gum as she brushed her jet-black hair away from her face with nails that seemed far too long for someone who worked a keyboard.
“QRW987887,” I said, trying to keep my tone light and friendly, rather than let my growing panic seep in and come off as terse.
“Yeah,” she said with a nod. “Here it is, then. Just the one queen bed.”
I frowned. “No? One queen? No, I booked two twins.”
She huffed and rolled her eyes, causing mine to widen slightly. From the corner of my eye, I saw Dove glance at me, as if she were checking on my reaction.
“Right here, this is what it says. Keyed in by yours truly. One queen bed, one night, paid.”
“No, I didn’t do that,” I defended, ignoring the heat climbing up the back of my neck. “I booked two twins. I double-checked, even. I literally pressed the one that specifically said two twins.”
“Well, I can only go by what’s on the computer, love,” the woman said, turning her screen back toward herself. “Your choice is cancel—but no refunds—or stay in the room.”
“Hey, it’s cool,” Dove said beside me, her voice light. “We’ve shared a bed before. It’s not the end of the world. I promise I’ll stay on my side of the bed.”
I was both shocked at the flip in my stomach and annoyed as I looked back at the clerk.
“No other rooms available, love,” she added, the wad of gum bobbing in her half-gaping mouth. She slapped the room key on the counter. “Have a pleasant stay.”
The way she said it made it sound like that was the last thing she wanted for me.
As we walked out of the main office and headed toward our room, Dove began humming a tune under her breath while Liv joined in—though humming her own, entirely different tune. Dove seemed relaxed and unbothered, while my brain was once again melting down.
I only had one outfit that could possibly pass as bar-appropriate (to my standards, at least), and I had to get ready for the evening within the same six-foot radius as the girl who was becoming a very real problem for me.
And I had to share a bed with her.
This wasn’t like Springfield when we’d had to share, I didn’t think of her in any particular way back in Springfield… this time… there had been too many lingering looks since then.
Too many secrets shared, at least on my side.
She was funny. Annoying. Sharp. Chaotic and steady at the same time. Unreasonably cute. Uncomfortably observant.
I cleared my throat.
I held my breath as I slid the key into the lock, listening to it creak open—revealing, in all its budget-motel glory, one queen bed.
Oklahoma City was going to be the end of me.
Sitting in a booth only hours later at a greasy diner about two blocks from Frankie’s, I gripped my burger with something akin to a death grip and tried very hard not to look across at Dove, who sat opposite me—looking a lot different than usual, making it very, very hard not to stare.
She was wearing a black fitted T-shirt tucked into a pair of high-waisted dark jeans, ripped at the knees, paired with a chunky belt and worn-in black boots she’d ecstatically pulled from her duffel, exclaiming, “I hadn’t remembered I packed these!”
It was an outfit that said, No, I didn’t try too hard, and I still look better than you.
She’d let her hair down from the usual messy space buns, and it fell in long, tousled waves that looked like they’d taken hours to style, but I’d watched her simply untie it, run her fingers through, and it had fallen perfectly, like she’d just stepped out of a salon.
Like, what the hell?