26. BACK THEN – May
Whatever Nowhere-ville
GARRISON ABBEY
I ’ve done some strange shit. Drunk. High. But being curled up in a duffel bag for twelve hours definitely is the strangest. And I’m stone-cold sober.
By hour three, I was rethinking the sober part.
I should’ve taken about five shots of vodka before Willow helped me into this bag. She volunteered to load the trunk just to make sure no one would throw their suitcases on me. Grateful doesn’t even cut what I feel.
A blindfold covers my eyes, the fabric soft.
I’m fully in the over-sized duffel with just an inch unzipped for air circulation.
Every pitstop when it’s clear the Escalade is emptied out of passengers, I readjust. Sometimes, I unzip the bag just so I can extend my legs.
But I’ve only done that once so far. Not wanting to risk it.
She’s putting a lot of fucking trust in me.
Bucket loads.
I’m not going to blow it.
But fuck , it’s hot back here. My shirt suctions to my skin, sweat building. A water bottle pokes me in the spine, but I haven’t taken a sip. I can hold my bladder as long as I don’t consume liquids.
It’s been a couple hours since the last pitstop where I stretched my legs, and I’m not about to do gymnastics with people in the car. Connor Cobalt’s voice sounds the closest, which makes me think he’s in the backseat.
That guy is way too perceptive not to notice something rustling around in the trunk. My legs ache, but it’s better than ruining Willow’s relationship with her family. I’m already putting that on a razor-thin line.
“You have two miles and then you turn right.” Rose’s voice is faint. Front seat. Maybe passenger side. It’s been kind of a fun game trying to pinpoint the seating arrangements. At least it’s taken my mind off of being in a duffel bag.
Fuck, my life is weird.
The car starts to meander around winding roads like we’re driving on mountains. The movement churns my stomach. Don’t get car sick . Dude, if I upchuck in this duffel bag and have to sit in my own puke, I might die. Literal death.
I breathe quietly through my nose and cinch my eyes close. I drift off for a couple minutes until Loren’s voice shoots me awake.
“Hey!” Lo shouts. “Crazy Raisins!”
No clue what that’s about. All I know is I haven’t heard Ryke and Daisy’s voices in the Escalade since we left Philly. I figure they must be in a different vehicle.
Rose yells, “Follow us, please! Daisy, you don’t need to be driving in the dark!”
“How many times has she driven a car?” Connor questions calmly.
Recently, Willow asked me whether my Mustang would be faster than a Ferrari.
I told her it depends on the models—but I’m not a car expert or anything.
I don’t think she meant to tell me more.
I think she kind of slipped. But off my confusion about the question, since it was out of the blue, she kept going.
I know that Daisy’s Ferrari is brand new. Two weeks new. I know it’s also her first car, having only really driven motorcycles before.
Information I shouldn’t have.
Information I won’t share with a soul. I’d die first, I think.
Rose yells louder, “Daisy how many times have you driven any kind of car?!”
I strain my ears just to hear Daisy’s reply from outside. “Cuatro!”
Four.
Holy shit.
“Bro, why are you riding in the deathmobile?!” Lo yells at his brother.
“We’re fucking fine!” Ryke screams from outside.
If they’re going to be fine, I have to believe I’m going to be okay. Because honestly, I can’t tell what’s a bigger risk.
Being in a car with Daisy Calloway or hiding out in this duffel bag.
Luckily, the choice has already been made for me.
* * *
The Escalade is parked for longer than just a pee-break. I can tell because they’re all talking outside, too casually to be in a public space.
What I infer: we must have arrived at the lake house. I can almost taste freedom out of this suffocating duffel bag. Before that, though, I have to actually figure out a way to exit the trunk without being seen.
Easier said than done.
I stay quiet. Motionless. Listening to the sound of their conversation outside.
“Is anyone else scared of bears?” Lily’s voice carries loudly. Bears. I have no clue where we are—but I’m guessing it’s somewhere secluded in the woods. Shit, I don’t really want to hypothesize when I’m not supposed to know the exact location.
“Moose are scarier,” Willow says.
My lips inch up.
“There are moose here?!” Lily yells in fright. “Why didn’t anyone tell me about the moose?! Lo, did you know about the moose?”
With her high-pitched tone, it sounds more comical than it should. My smile pulls higher, wishing I was out there. And then, my bladder suddenly rebels against me. Fuck, I have to piss. My legs ache, and I try to rub my hamstring without causing noise.
“No, no,” Willow says swiftly to Lily, “I just meant in general. There were a lot of moose in Maine, but I’ve never been around here, so I wouldn’t know.”
“No moose,” Connor declares.
Someone groans. Sounds deep like Ryke’s voice. It’s confirmed when I hear him say, “Can we please fucking ban the word moose from now on?”
“Agreed,” Rose adds.
“I like a good moose in the morning,” Loren pipes in just to be that guy and irritate the shit out of everyone. I’d give him a gold star.
I tune them out when my hamstring starts to fully cramp. Motherfucker . I grind down on my teeth and press the heels of my palms to my forehead. Might as well zip up this duffel bag and toss it into a hole. Bury me in the ground where I belong.
My insides twist, and I let out a tensed breath through my nose.
“We obviously need to go over the fucking rules about bears,” Ryke says to something I missed. “Unless it’s hunting season or the bear is attacking you, you can’t shoot it.”
“Says who?” Rose combats.
“The fucking law,” Ryke replies. “I can’t believe I camped with you, and we didn’t talk about this. Look, I brought bear spray for everyone, so it’s non-fucking-negotiable.”
“Let’s start unpacking before it gets dark.” Connor’s words ignite panic in every pore of my body. Unpacking involves popping this trunk. The one where I’m currently stuffed inside a duffel bag. I stop breathing. Stop moving.
I might as well be a corpse.
“You guys should look at the house first,” Willow interjects. “I’ll start unpacking.”
She’s got this, Abbey. Calm the fuck down.
“You’re not here as manual labor,” Loren refutes. “So you should explore the house with us.”
Willow clears her throat uneasily. “I…” Her voice tapers off.
I wish I were out there helping her, but that’d just blow everything to shit. Guilt gnaws my insides. You put her in this position , my head screams at me.
I don’t want to ruin her. Turn her into someone who lies to the people who love her. But I’m sinking, and I feel myself clinging to anything on shore. So I grip her fingers, and I’m terrified I’ll pull her down with me.
I’m doing it right now.
I know.
I know.
Fuck, I know.
This was a bad idea.
Willow continues, more confident this time, “I was going to call my mom—I mean, our mom. Or…you know, whatever she is. I just needed a minute alone.”
The quiet somehow sounds tense, and I’m not even out there.
A beat later, Loren replies, “Yeah, I didn’t realize you were in contact with her, but…definitely, as long as you don’t tell her the location of where you are—”
“No way. I’d never do that.”
“I just had to make sure.” He says something else, but cramping intensifies in my hamstring. It’s worse than any cramp I’ve had in lacrosse, and I was that asshole drinking pickle juice on the side of a field trying to eliminate tight quads.
I think…I think I have to move.
Slowly and carefully, I reach down to my thigh, my fingers kneading the muscle. I have to angle a little to touch the spot. God, that feels better. I close my eyes as I continue massaging the muscle. My elbow collides with a hard suitcase and lets out a thump.
Pain blooms but it’s dulled under my hysteria.
My heart jettisons from my body. Out of this car. Out of this planet.
Did anyone else hear that?
I listen harder. Voices are quiet, almost distant. I have no chance at distinguishing the words. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. And then…
The trunk beeps, indicating that the hood is lifting.
Oh fuck.
I suck in a breath, holding it. Not moving a muscle. Please don’t see the massive almost human-sized duffel bag in this car.
“Garrison?”
Willow. I let out a breath of relief.
She whispers, “Can you…um…make sure your blindfold is on?” She adds quickly, “Don’t reply. Lo is still on the stoop. I’m pretending I’m on the phone with my mom.” She must have the cell to her ear. “I’m going to get you out of the trunk. Just hold tight, okay?”