Chapter Eleven
AJ
I exit the building at the truck stop and head back over to Hollie’s car.
Noah’s sulking in the back seat with his feet up.
I toss a grease-stained McDonald’s brown paper bag into his lap through the open window, and he brightens, digging into French fries and nuggets within seconds, slurping iced Coke through a paper straw.
I lean on the door frame and tuck my head inside the back seat. ‘Now’s the part where you thank me, dipshit.’
‘Jeez,’ he says with his mouth full. ‘Thanks already. Hollie’s getting me snacks too.’
‘She tell you that?’
‘Oh, she told me a whole lotta things.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Means she told me what you guys put her through in high school. You guys were assholes. Hollie’s a good person. She didn’t deserve any of that.’
I straighten. Something twists in my gut because, despite blanking a whole lot of it out of my brain, I remember some of the things I let Chase get away with in high school. Some of the things I laughed at that weren’t even funny.
‘What did she say?’ I ask.
‘She told me about the condoms in her locker… the time you guys spliced her head onto a porn star’s body and turned her into a poster girl, the time you sent her to the party where nobody else was at… You’re all fucking losers.’
I tense my jaw.
‘You owe her an apology, man,’ Noah says between mouthfuls.
I walk away, lean up against the hood and unwrap my burger. When I sink my teeth into it, I realize I’m not all that hungry.
Noah’s right. I should say sorry for some of the shit we pulled back then. Some of it was not cool.
When Hollie walks back out the building, I pretend not to look.
Focus on eating my burger, which now tastes bitter in my mouth.
But I’m watching her, out the corner of my eye.
She’s removed her sweater from first thing this morning.
She wears boots and a pair of denim cut-off shorts, a baby pink tee with a sunshine logo that matches the shade of her hair.
Maybe it’s the way she walks that’s different, like she’s more comfortable in her own skin, in a way that she never was in high school. I can’t exactly put my finger on it.
I finish my burger. When she reaches me, I straighten. ‘Noah said you were talkin’ ’bout… us bein’ in high school.’
She holds my gaze for just a moment. Her eyes are hazel with flecks of green in them. I don’t think I ever really looked at them before. ‘We should probably push on,’ she says, and whatever jackass apology for the past I was about to offer up gets shot down. ‘Get back out on the road.’
For some reason, I don’t answer right away. Guess I was tryna make conversation, only every time she talks with Noah, she gets all weird with me. ‘Right,’ I say. ‘You’re right.’
I watch her open the rear passenger door and hand a load of snacks to Noah.
I hear his jubilant reaction too. My mom always spoiled that kid, in a way that me and Logan never got spoiled.
Maybe that’s why he thinks he can do what he wants and get away with it, and why we’re in this goddamn situation.
Mom never told him ‘no’. Seems like Hollie’s not gonna either.
It’s like they’ve got this cutesy little soft spot for one another, and I’m not invited to their little fan club party.
‘You might wanna…’ I say to Hollie, then hesitate.
‘What?’ she asks with a frown.
Maybe this was a bad idea. ‘I was just thinking that… we would get there a little faster if you… you know. Put your foot on the gas just a little.’
Her brow lifts. ‘I’m doing the best I can,’ she clips.
I choke down a laugh. That doesn’t seem to go down well either. ‘I mean, I know it’s a shitty car, but…’
She yanks open the driver’s side door. ‘Fine,’ she says, though it’s clearly not.
‘I’m not tryna be rude, or anything…’ I add, and now she’s looking at me like she wants to wipe the smirk off my face.
She holds up one hand in my direction. ‘Message received,’ she huffs out.
We both fill up on gas. I tell her I’ll pay for hers, and she lets me, though she refuses my offer of help at the pump. Seems like she’s ultra mad at me now.
Back out on the highway, I pick up speed on my Honda Rebel 500, mainly to coax Hollie to do the same.
I love this bike. She’s a beauty. It’s got a classic look that makes me feel like James Dean.
When she drives past me, my brain does this thing where it wonders if Hollie Palmer is the kind of girl who digs a guy who rides motorcycles.
’Cause there are plenty of chicks out there who get off on that stuff, though it doesn’t seem like Hollie Palmer’s one of ’em.
Then, the fact I’m wanting her to be one of them girls has got me questioning why my brain is even going there in the first place, because it never bothered me before. With any chick.
When they pass me, it pisses me off that Noah’s now sat up front and has got his feet up on the dash, and he’s laughing at something she’s said.
By the time we cross the state line into New Mexico, my tailbone and ass cheeks are killing me. We make it as far as Roswell before we stop again for more gas, and I’ll admit, when I see her face, Hollie looks beat.
‘We gained one hour,’ I tell her when she gets out the car to stretch her legs. ‘We crossed into Mountain Time, so it’s only noon.’
‘How long left?’ she asks, wiping her palms down her face.
‘About three hours,’ I tell her.
‘I feel like I’ve been driving forever,’ she groans. ‘And then we have to drive all the way back.’
‘Noah not driving you insane?’
We both look back at him, the passenger side door open. He’s laying down in the back again, one knee propped up. ‘He’s been fine. He’s been telling me about Rapture. God, I have backache.’
I rub my hands over my hips. ‘Jesus, me too.’
She looks to the ground and kicks something on the concrete.
‘Will anybody have noticed you’re gone yet?’ I ask.
She shakes her head. ‘I messaged Sunset Pines. Told them I wasn’t feeling well. They never want us to come to work if we’re sick.’
‘Thanks for doing that,’ I say, then add, ‘For Noah, I mean,’ in case there was any doubt.
She looks up at me. I gotta admire anyone with that much patience, who cares so much for people they have no blood ties to, and for no money neither.
I’m staring. ‘So. Rita,’ I say and clear my throat. ‘She lives on a dairy farm in Tano Road. Northwest of Santa Fe. She’s an artist. Does portraits. Sells ’em on the local art scene. She’s pretty talented.’
‘Her farm sounds amazing,’ Hollie says. ‘Noah told me all about her.’
‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Right.’
We fill up with more gas, stock up on food and each take another bathroom break.
This ride is boring. There’s nothing to look at on this highway, so my mind wanders.
I’m starting to get anxious. I told Echo that I had to get out of town for a couple days.
He didn’t ask questions, but he wasn’t exactly impressed that I was leaving a bunch of work for him to deal with.
The only customers who bring their cars and motorcycles out to Rapture anymore are the loyal ones.
The ones who don’t wanna pay some fancy company in Canyon big bucks to fix up their vehicle, or members of the Venom club.
Lately, business has started to tail off, because people don’t wanna make the journey, or believe the rumors that Rapture is not a safe place anymore.
That, or they get lured by special offers and discount deals, neither of which Echo’s shop can offer.
I promised him overtime, but I need to get back already.
It’s been a couple years since I last saw Rita. We came on a road trip to Santa Fe two summers back. Mom and I took turns with the driving, the kids in the back. It was the closest I’d come to a real vacation, and I’d messaged Mo to tell him what an awesome place it was.
When we finally pull into Rita’s long, gravel driveway, relief floods my veins. My ass cheeks are in agony. Even my balls ache with the pressure of being sat in the saddle all day.
I kill the engine and pull off my helmet. My head and neck are drenched in sweat. Hollie’s car follows me in. We’re surrounded by flat lands, green fields, a sprawling, two-storey house, a large barn behind it, a couple more outbuildings and trees dotted across the landscape.
Rita comes striding out the house at the same time Hollie’s gettin’ out her car.
My aunt has flowing, unruly hair, the waves a shade of deep gray with a streak of white through it.
She wears a chunky knit cardigan paired with a full-length denim skirt and boots. She’s not as glamorous as her sister.
When she sees me, she comes crashing to a halt, her palms clasped together.
‘As I live and breathe. Ajax Callahan. Noah Brady. My, my, Noah, you’ve grown more than eight inches, I swear it.’
I give her a hug. ‘Hey, Aunt Rita.’
She bundles me up, pressing me tightly to her chest. ‘Still as handsome as ever, AJ. Come on over here, Noah.’
She opens out one arm. Noah drags his feet, enters our embrace. She squeezes us both hard.
I step back. Hollie’s stood there all alone, clasping her fingers together.
‘This is Hollie,’ I say to Rita.
‘The young lady you told me about?’
‘She’s the one who found Noah. Took him home. Helped me get him here.’
‘Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Hollie. Our whole family owes you thanks.’
I watch Hollie step forward and shake her by the hand. ‘Lovely to meet you too.’
Rita looks stunned, because let’s face it, Hollie sounds like a princess when she opens her mouth. ‘Oh, now, you don’t sound like you’re from the south.’
‘I’m from England,’ Hollie states. ‘You have a lovely farm.’
‘Well, somebody’s a long way from home. Thank you, come on in, I’ll give you the grand tour. I saved y’all some lunch. Y’all must be starving.’
Rita leads the way. I follow with Hollie. I glance back at Noah, taking in the acres of space around him, like he’s trying to get to grips with his new surroundings.
‘Noah,’ I bark, beckoning him.