Chapter 19
ELLIS
When we’d left Adrian, it had been with numb fingers and two takeaway breakfasts from the diner, each including a scalding coffee.
I had eaten my breakfast wrap quickly and took my required pills before severely burning my tongue on the hot coffee, hissing at the same time as Dove—then we both snorted a laugh.
The cheap tent had packed away more easily than I’d expected, and I smiled when Dove mumbled something about being a tent whisperer as she folded the thing back into her bag. We repacked the trunk of the Mustang, the cold morning air curling around us, deflated grass beneath our feet.
I had stood beside Dove when we went back to the halfway point, watching as Dove scattered a portion of Margaret’s ashes, a sad smile on her face as she did so. Liv had stood with us, head bowed, and honestly, the only time I felt Liv was ever serious was when Dove scattered pieces of Margaret.
Now we were back on the road, the car seeming both full and empty with so much that was currently being left unsaid.
Neither of us talked about it.
The kiss.
I thought maybe Liv would have said something or made a big deal out of it.
She had to have heard us—the Mustang had been right beside the tent, and I knew she’d been on the roof of the car last night.
But she was once again back in that uncharacteristic silence that unnerved me.
No teasing while we packed up, no sly comments about sharing body heat.
The silence couldn’t continue.
We were two states away from her home, and she was clearly deep in her feelings about it.
How were we supposed to approach that?
We still didn’t know how she died. She just made these offhand comments every now and then, and I expected Dove to latch on and ask her. This was her field of work, after all; she would know what to say and how to say it.
My mind was in a continual spin, a spiral of thoughts as I tried to unpack the last forty-eight hours of this journey and failed miserably at making any sense of it.
Right now, as if marching across some grand stage, all I could think about was Dove.
How her fingers had felt on my face—soft but sure, as if she’d been waiting for the moment and was savoring it. I could still almost feel that tentative brush of her thumb along my jaw, the warmth of our breath filling the limited space between us.
I hadn’t realized just how cold I’d been until she kissed me. And it wasn’t the shivering kind of cold. It was the kind that lived deep inside you, that settled into your bones. The kind you get used to when you haven’t been held in years and most of your touch has been clinical. Monitored.
I could still feel every moment of that kiss, even now.
Her hand in my hair, tightening just slightly—but I could still feel her nails at my scalp. Her lips, warm and measured on mine. Her tongue moved with a slowness that let me know she was in no hurry for it to end.
It hadn’t gone further. It was just kissing.
And somehow, that only served to soften the lump that always lived inside me.
It felt good to have that closeness with someone.
With her. It felt soothing to wake up and feel her arm draped over my waist, her breath warm and steady on my neck.
I had zero desire to move once I realized our position, and I stuffed down the growing feelings of selfishness and allowed myself to enjoy that brief moment in time, one I knew would live in my memory forever.
It felt so complicated and uncomplicated all at once.
Dove made me feel like it was okay to want things, and she didn’t treat me like some tragedy-turned-miracle or look at me with underlying pity or offer me grand words of useless wisdom I didn’t ask for.
I drummed my finger lightly against my thigh.
Was it okay to want her—and from there, was it okay to take her?
Something loosened further in my chest the deeper we drove into New Mexico.
I wasn’t sure where it stemmed from or when the knot had started to unravel.
It all just seemed so big out here—away from home and away from people who only saw me as a miracle.
A survivor. Or maybe it was the fact that, no matter how stressed or panicked I had been, I had never turned back.
I turned my head slightly and glanced at Dove, who was focused on the road, Dehd playing in the background, a common soundtrack whenever we were in the car. Dove’s favorite.
Her sunglasses rested on the bridge of her nose, her hair pulled into the sloppiest space buns I’d seen yet on this trip. The tiniest smirk tugged at her mouth, like she could feel me looking at her, and I watched as that hidden dimple peeked out.
My heart did something so complicated and warm that I immediately ripped my eyes back to the road.
I grabbed the binder from the footwell instead.
“Ahh,” Dove murmured, drumming her fingers against the wheel. “The Bible.”
“Shut up,” I groaned softly, a laugh tugging at my lips as I shook my head at her. “Albuquerque—want to know what we’re doing?”
“Hit me,” Dove said.
“Okay, so we have the Sandia Peak Tramway, which is our biggest stop, in my opinion,” I said, eyeing the neatly typed list and color-coded locations. “It’s the longest aerial tram in North America, and apparently the views are worth the height-induced panic, according to a TripAdvisor post.”
“Well, we live for a near-death experience, don’t we?” Liv piped up from the back, breaking out of her silent reverie.
“You’re already dead,” Dove pointed out bluntly.
“Exactly,” Liv sighed with a pout. “I just miss the thrill of almost dying, you know?”
I wouldn’t call it thrilling, but whatever.
“Then we have the Petroglyph National Monument,” I went on, tapping the page. “It’s an amazing site. Ancient carvings over 700 years old, etched into volcanic rock by Native Americans and Spanish settlers.”
“Awesome,” Liv murmured from the back. “Something deep for you to think about when you get all broody about your nighttime makeout.”
“Oh, there it is,” I murmured as I closed the binder and sighed. “Good morning, Liv.”
Dove snickered softly as Liv gave a mock two-fingered salute, then threw her arms behind her head and leaned back against the seat.
“Okay, I need a bathroom break,” Dove said as she approached a lone gas station and began to slow and pull off the road. “Ellis, do you?”
“I’m good,” I murmured, scrolling through the website for the tramway.
“Okay, I won’t be long.”
I watched as she left the car, noting with interest that Liv followed after her.
Then I returned to the page, taking in the photos of the ride.
It looked pretty amazing, and from the few TikToks I’d watched—during that one night I’d frantically outlined the trip—I’d fallen down a rabbit hole of videos for almost an hour.
I navigated to the available tram times for today, hesitating before booking so I could give both Liv and Dove the option.
I tried to swallow down the obsessive desire to control the trip.
I felt like I was getting somewhat better at letting go—I mean, I hadn’t lost my shit over camping, so that was a positive turn.
I opened TikTok again and eyed my notifications. Too many to open.
Instead, I navigated to the latest video I’d posted about Oklahoma City, my voiceover filling the car as mashed-up clips of where we’d gone and what we’d done played across the screen. Dove was laughing hysterically at something I couldn’t even remember now—likely something Liv had done.
I scrolled through the comments.
You could totally travel vlog. I could listen to your voice and watch your videos all day.
I want to do Route 66 now!!!!
I am living for these updates. Literally. Waiting on a liver as I type. This is keeping me going—go Ellis!
Something fluttered in my stomach, and I clutched my phone.
Traveling. Seeing the world. People actually wanted to see this stuff?
To watch me journey? I’d thought maybe I’d lose followers by deviating away from the medical stuff, but my follower count had grown since the trip started, and I sucked my lower lip into my mouth.
I liked traveling—not at the beginning, that was for sure—but the farther I got from home, and the more places I saw, the more I realized I was getting a taste for it.
A taste for doing new things. A taste for self-discovery, for learning what I truly liked and disliked.
A taste for climbing out of the comfort zone I’d so carefully cocooned myself into.
I could do things, I thought, as if the realization were sudden and had never occurred to me before. It felt like possibility was suddenly stretching out in front of me, that there were options and lives I could choose from, thoughts I was finally allowing myself to think.
I glanced up and watched as Dove walked back toward the car, Liv beside her, talking animatedly. She gestured as if she were explaining something important or dramatic, and given that it was Liv, it was likely both.
I focused on the way Dove walked, the air of casual confidence that floated around her as she nodded with a frown, as if deep in thought. Her bare arms were on display thanks to the ripped tank top she wore, the morning sun bouncing off her skin and creating a radiant glow around her.
Butterflies stirred in my stomach, and I sucked in a breath at myself.
The driver’s door creaked open, and Dove slipped into the car with a look on her face—the kind that made her mouth curl at one side, mischief dancing in her eyes as I met them.
She wore the same expression in Oklahoma when she told me we were going out.
She hit the playlist, and Dehd filled the car once more as she turned the key and started the engine.
“So,” she said, drawing the word out with an attempt at casualness that made me frown, “are the time slots for Albuquerque locked in, or is there room for movement on how we, uh, do things?”
I blinked at her, then glanced at Liv through the rearview mirror. She was paying very close attention to her nail beds.