Chapter 18
Max
My phone buzzes before my alarm even has the chance.
NICO
Update.
How was dinner?
Did you kiss her under fairy lights or confess your love during dessert?
I rub my face, still half asleep.
ME
No kisses.
No confessions.
Just a small-town birthday party, a chicken named Peaches, and the best night I’ve had in… maybe ever.
NICO
Ohhh boy.
You’re cooked.
Stick a fork in you.
Done for.
ME
She danced with everyone.
Hugged half the town.
She was radiant.
NICO
Yep. Fully charbroiled.
Let me know when you start writing her initials in your diary.
He’s not wrong. I get out of bed, pull on a hoodie, and grab my wallet and room key. I have one goal this morning: find coffee for April. Maybe some kind of breakfast treat. Ideally, something that says I notice the little things about you without being weird about it.
But when I head downstairs to the front office-slash-lobby-slash-breakfast nook… she’s already there, sitting at a small table near the front window, wearing her blue sweater and a messy bun that should not be this attractive. She’s laughing with Linda—the motel receptionist—over a plate of cinnamon rolls and two steaming mugs of coffee.
“You’re up early,”
I say, both amused and disappointed that she beat me to it.
She looks up and grins.
“Linda promised coffee, cinnamon rolls, and gossip. Of course, I had to come down the second I woke up.”
“Naturally.”
April pats the empty chair next to her.
“Come sit. I’ll get you a cup.”
Before I can protest, she’s already up, making her way to the counter like she’s worked here for years. Linda offers her a wink and another napkin.
I sit because what else am I going to do? Not sit next to her while she’s doing this? Making a stranger feel like family before 8:00 a.m.? April returns with coffee and slides it toward me.
“Two sugars, right?”
I blink.
“Yeah. How’d you—”
“I, too, notice things,”
she states, and I—well, I just sit there like an idiot and wonder how it’s possible to feel this known by someone I technically don’t even know.
The door jingles, and a couple walks in with suitcases, possibly ready to check out. Linda excuses herself with a cheerfu.
“Y’all don’t go falling in love while I’m gone”
and heads to the front desk.
April pushes the last cinnamon roll toward me.
“Want to split it?”
“Only if you take the gooey center.”
“Deal.”
We eat, we sip, and after a moment, she turns to me.
“So… what’s the plan today?”
“I think our next stop should be Casa Grande.”
“Sounds amazing.”
“It’s about eight hours from here, kind of in the middle of nowhere, but it looks like there are some decent hotels, and apparently some cool ruins nearby.”
“Middle of nowhere and historic ruins?”
She grins. “Sold.”
“There’s also a giant cactus park.”
“Now you’re just trying to impress me.”
“Is it working?”
She sips her coffee and smiles.
“You’re doing alright.”
I smile; what else can I do? She is irresistible.
“I’ll get online and make a reservation then.”
ME
I’m supposed to find a hotel for us to stay at tonight.
Is it too obvious if I say I could only find one room left…
With two queen beds?
NICO
Ohhhhhh
Look who’s getting strategic.
Let’s make it even better
Say there’s only one bed.
The classi.
“oops, only one bed” trope.
ME
Be serious.
NICO
I am serious.
About the need for tension.
The readers demand it.
ME
I just don’t want to freak her out.
NICO
You didn’t like sharing a wall with her?
ME
Not at all.
NICO
Then do what must be done.
You find that forced proximity, king.
We load up the car just after nine, the sun already high and relentlessly turning the motel parking lot into a griddle. The magic mountains from last night now shimmer faintly in the heat.
Max unlocks the doors, drops his bag in the back seat, and gives me a small, slightly flushed smile as he opens the passenger door for me. His T-shirt clings to him just a little—black soft cotton, probably already too warm.
“Gas station stop before we head out?”
“Obviously,”
I say, climbing in.
“Snacks are the glue holding this trip together.”
He chuckles and makes his way to the driver’s seat. When he starts the engine, the A/C blasts to life like a prayer being answered. Minutes later, we pull into the nearest gas station-slash-grocery store-slash-local landmark. Max gets out to pump gas, squinting in the sun, while I head inside with a mission: restock the essentials.
I grab an energy drink for each of us and throw in a few standbys: gummy worms—June’s favorite; sour peach rings—my favorite; and something a little different, a bag of spicy dill pickle chips I’ve never seen before. Then some aggressively healthy granola bars, two cold waters, and the souvenirs stop me in my tracks.
A wall of magnets greets me, most of them kitschy and weirdly pixelated, but I find one that say.
“Cloudcroft: A town above the clouds”
in vintage script with a tiny painted pine tree. It’s charming.
Then I find a second one—an old-style gas pump with the word.
“Fill up on memories.”
I hesitate for a second before grabbing it too. One for me, one for Max.
Just as I’m about to check out, I hear a familiar voice behind me.
“Well, look who’s still hanging around our corner of the world!”
I turn, grinning.
“Lori!”
She walks toward me with open arms, pulling me into a hug. Behind her, Fred holds Peaches like a sleepy baby kangaroo, bundled in what I swear is a baby blanket.
“We came for coffee and ended up chatting with the register girl for twenty minutes about peach cobbler recipes,”
Lori says.
“What about you?”
“Snack run and a souvenir. We’re about to hit the road.”
“Oh, we’re gonna miss you, sweetheart.”
She squeezes my arm.
“Last night was just the best. You two brought such lovely energy.”
“You have to come outside and say goodbye to Max,”
I say.
“He’ll want to see you before we go.”
Lori claps like I just handed her a golden ticket.
“Let’s go, Fred. Time to give the kids a proper send-off.”
I’m wiping down the windshield like it personally wronged me. The heat’s already climbing—dry and relentless—and my shirt’s sticking to my back. I push the wiper back into place, and as I lean down to grab the cleaning cloth, I hear the now-familiar sound of Lori’s voice.
“There’s my favorite tall man.”
I look up just in time to catch her barreling toward me. She hauls me into a hug before I can say a word, the scent of hairspray and coffee clinging to her like an armor.
“Hi, Lori,”
I say, startled but smiling.
“Thanks for everything.”
“You two made the whole night sparkle,”
she says, pulling back to beam at me.
Fred steps in next, one hand wrapped around a blanket-wrapped Peaches, and the other extended for a shake. His grip is firm, steady—the kind of handshake that says he still sees the world in black and white and expects you to measure up.
“You treat her right, son.”
I nod.
“I’m trying, sir.”
Peaches lets out a soft squawk, and I stroke the top of her feathery head. She blinks at me with absolutely no concern in the world. Honestly? Iconic.
April is now having a full-blown conversation with Lori about keeping in contact, their heads tilted.
Fred glances their way, then leans in slightly.
“I saw you dancing with her last night.”
I rub the back of my neck, suddenly ten degrees hotter.
“Yeah. I’m, uh… trying to follow your advice. Just don’t want to come on too strong.”
Fred’s expression hardens in a disappointed-coach kind of way.
“You don’t get a girl like that by hanging back. You go for it. Gently, but clearly.”
I nod, heart thudding a little louder.
“I hear you, sir.”
“Good,”
he says.
“Because she’s got our address now, and I expect a wedding invitation.”
I huff out a laugh.
“That’s a lot of pressure, sir.”
Fred shrugs, the blanket-wrapped chicken shifting in his arms.
“I’m ninety. I don’t have time for slow burns.”
April’s laughing with Lori, her bag of snacks tucked under one arm and the hem of her T-shirt fluttering slightly in the breeze. She catches me looking and waves. I wave back, heart skipping a beat, and yeah…maybe Fred’s right.
Maybe slow burns are overrated.