Chapter 39
I make myself get a few hours of sleep before I hitch the Airstream to my truck and drive it off my land for the first time since purchasing it years ago. I’m itching to get on the road. It will take me two days to get to Montana, and I already found somewhere I could park overnight to sleep.
But I have a stop to make first.
I probably should have come before I hitched the Airstream to the truck, but when I pull up in front of Wren’s house and she catches sight of it from the window, she comes running out. Her hair is a mess, but her eyes are bright, and her smile is pure sunshine.
After putting the truck in park, I climb out. She stands a few feet away, and the closer I come, I can see the tears in her eyes. She knows what this means.
“You’re leaving.” She’s crying, but there’s nothing but happiness on her face.
I nod, throat thick. This is what I want, but it doesn’t mean I’m not going to miss what I’m leaving behind. Who I’m leaving behind.
“Are you going to Jack?”
Just the sound of his name sends my heart racing, galloping off in my chest. “Yes,” I answer. “I have a proposal for him. Summers and autumns here, winters and springs wherever we want.”
“What do you think he will say?”
I think about him looking at job listings last night, trying to find something close to here, close to me. “I think he will like it.” I swallow, resolution filling me. “But if he doesn’t, I still want to do it. For myself.”
I want Jack, but not more than anything. I want to do this with him, but more than that, I want to do this. I want to finally get to travel, wander the way I didn’t get to when I was eighteen.
“I’m proud of you,” she says, and it settles somewhere deep inside of me. I’m proud of me, too, for finally taking a chance. I know it’s what she’s been pushing me to do for so long.
“I’m proud of you,” I tell her. “What you did with Holden. Loving him, loving his daughter, becoming a mother to June and Wilder, it was brave. You’re so brave, Wren. You’ve always made me want to be better.”
She grips me then, in a tight hug. Her hair sticks to my face, in my mouth, just like always, and I spit it out. Tears are coating both our cheeks. I hold her tighter, not wanting to let go.
“I’ll be back soon.”
She pulls back, her hands still on my arms. Her smile is wobbly, her eyes coated in a sheen of silver. “Call me when you get there. I want to hear everything.”
When Jack calls that night, I don’t tell him I’m in Wisconsin, staying at a campground somewhere between Madison and Milwaukee.
I don’t let on that I’m exhausted from driving all day.
I could tell him, but I want it to be a surprise.
He made a grand gesture with the I love you and telling me he wanted to move to be close to me.
I want my turn to make mine. To make him feel as worthy as he has always made me feel.
We don’t talk long before I’m nodding off, and I hang up the phone, passing out in my bed, the view out my window finally something different than the trees and mountains that have always been there.
In the morning, before the sunrises, I get a breakfast burrito and hit the road.
It will be late when I make it to Larkspur, and I have a full day of travel ahead of me.
I probably should have broken the trip up into three days, but I didn’t want to wait.
Now that I know what I want, I want it right now.
The road stretches out before me, the landscape changing from plains to forests and hills.
Frozen lakes and thickly packed snow. When I cross into North Dakota, the land stretches out as far as I can see, melting into the horizon.
I’ve never seen land so flat. I’ve stood atop mountains, looking out at the world ahead, but this feels different. Wider, more expansive. Endless.
My heart hammers when I cross the state line into Montana, fingers tapping on the steering wheel.
In high school, I had a poster on my wall of Glacier National Park, a vintage drawing of Going-to-the-Sun road.
This part of Montana, however, looks nothing like that.
The road ahead is much the same as it was in North Dakota, but still, I can’t believe I’m actually here, a place I dreamed about for so long.
The sun starts to disappear as the land starts to change again, setting behind snow-capped mountains in the distance. They call to me, the mountains. Heading toward them feels like heading home. Snow begins to fall, landing in heavy drops on my windshield the closer I get to Larkspur.
The ranch where Jack is staying isn’t quite in town. When I turn onto the road, I stop in front of the entrance. A huge wooden archway sits ahead, illuminated by my truck’s headlights. A rusted, metal lasso containing three stars hangs above it, and above that are the words Lucky Stars Ranch.
Relief pours through me at the sight of it. It’s dark, the stars above the only illumination. Jack was right, the sky here is so much bigger. I want to sit beneath it, listening to him tell me stories about the stars, his arms around me.
Adrenaline spikes through my veins as I press the gas, not entirely sure where I’m going. It’s late, and pitch black, and I hadn’t realized how big the ranch would be. Finding Jack seems like more of a task than I had expected.
The road comes to a fork, and I peer into the darkness, looking for a sign pointing me in the right direction, but there are none. My truck idles as I try to determine which way to go. At home, my parents’ house is to the left, and the farm is to the right, so that’s how I decide.
My tires crunch on a mix of snow and dirt as I drive right, hoping to find cabins popping up along the road, Jack’s Jeep parked in front of one of them.
Instead, after what has to be almost half a mile, the road comes to an end in front of a wide, two-story home.
It’s covered in weathered, wooden siding, and wrapped by a porch covered with rocking chairs.
The house isn’t what catches my attention, though, it’s the group of people standing outside, chatting beside several trucks.
They all turn when I pull in, eyeing me warily.
Embarrassment claws up my throat, but I force myself to put the truck in park and get out, knowing I can’t just turn around after driving up on what is obviously the ranch owner’s home.
When I climb out of the truck, I wave at the group and call out, “Hey, I think I’m a bit lost.”
I stuff my hands in the pockets of my jeans as I move toward them, snow crackling beneath my boots. A woman with long, blonde hair, and a baby on her hip, smiles at me.
“What are you looking for?”
The man standing beside her is tall, with dark hair and a mustache.
Behind him, is a man who looks enough like him to be related.
There are a few other adults, a little girl, and two small boys hanging off the legs of another man.
On the porch are a middle-aged couple who look sun-weathered beneath the porch lights.
They’re all a bit wilder, rougher around the edges than my family and friends back home, but they look enough like them that I feel more at ease than I did when I pulled up.
“I’m looking for someone staying in one of the cabins,” I tell no one in particular, looking around at each of them.
The man on the porch yells, “Who ya lookin’ for?”
“Jack Sullivan,” I answer. “He’s my…”
I trail off, unsure how to finish the sentence, how to encapsulate all that he is to me. Heat creeps into my cheeks as they watch me, like I’ve spent too much time in the sun.
“It’s complicated?” The blonde woman fills in, and I nod eagerly, thankfully.
“He’s staying in the cabin on the south edge of the main horse pasture,” the older man says, directing his statement at the younger generation standing in the yard. “Coop, you want to direct her over there since it’s closest to your place?”
One of the men nods, moving away from the group. He bends to kiss the forehead of a little girl. I think I hear him tell her to be good for her grandparents before he turns to face me. He nods in the direction of my truck.
“Hop in, I’ll lead you there.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, and then turn back to the group. “Sorry to bother you.”
“Don’t worry about it,” the older man says. “Welcome to Lucky Stars.”
I climb in my truck and carefully maneuver the Airstream back onto the dirt road, following the truck in front of me. His headlights slice over the hills as we make several turns. I never would have been able to find the place on my own.
Up ahead, I catch a glimpse of a cabin, standing a ways away from a fence that’s stretched on for yards and yards. When I pulled onto the property, I had no idea how large it was. It makes my parents’ farm seem small.
My heart races as we close the distance to the cabin, and when the truck ahead of me stops in front of it, he rolls down his window and waves me forward. I pull up beside him and roll down my passenger window.
“That’s the cabin,” he says with a tip of his chin. “He know you’re coming?”
I chew on my lip as I look past him at the cabin. There’s a light on inside, although I can’t see anything beyond the curtained windows. “Not exactly,” I say, returning my attention to the man in front of me. He’s handsome, probably my age.
He lifts a brow. “You’re not going to, like, murder him or anything, right?”
A laugh breaks through my nerves. “No.” My eyes connect with his. “I’m going to tell him I love him.”
His eyes blow wide, and a smirk lifts the corners of his mouth. “Well, good luck…” he trails off, waiting on me to fill in my name.
“Stevie.”
“Good luck, Stevie.”
I blow out a breath. “Thanks.”
I watch as he pulls away, heading down the hill and disappearing behind a copse of trees, leaving me alone. After taking a steadying breath, I pull the truck next to Jack’s car. In the morning I’ll need to park the Airstream a little better, but it’s too dark to navigate now.
My heart is pounding as I climb out, the cold wind whipping at my hair. I pulled it out of its braid an hour ago, my scalp protesting, and now it hangs around my shoulders in a mess of waves.
The cabin isn’t large, probably just a bedroom or two. It’s traditional, wood logs with a stone chimney that’s sputtering out smoke. The roof is metal. It’s nothing like the cabin where Jack and I spent our weeks in Fontana Ridge, but it feels just as important.
My hands shake as I make my way across the yard and up the porch steps, halting in front of the door.
I shouldn’t be this nervous, but for a moment I wonder if he will reject me.
After driving two days to a state I’ve never been before.
But just as quickly, I dismiss it. Jack was ready to move for me.
I only hope he’s okay with my change of plans.
With an unsteady hand, I knock on the door. There isn’t a porch light, so I wait in darkness for Jack to answer, blood rushing in my ears. Seconds that feel like hours pass, then I hear footsteps on the other side of the door. One erratic heartbeat passes before it swings open.