Chapter Seven

"Road trips are for the strong. Coffee is for the weak."—Hazel Titus

August

"I'm driving," I announced. "No way in hell do I trust you to operate a motor vehicle after sneaking into my house at six a.m. with a Bigfoot costume on, then mauling me with your face."

Scared the shit out ofme. I would take it to my grave. The plastic claws would haunt me for an eternity. How did it look so real? Maybe I was just hallucinating, but it wasn't a cool prank. I mean, I was in until that moment, then I was just straight up like…nope, tapping out, not fun. Yet she kept it going.

Honestly, how did we even get into this situation? As adults and college graduates—at least, in her case—where and how the hell did our summer turn into a prank war? Normally, I'd say it was stupidity or boredom, but I wasn't even sure anymore. All I knew was that our parents were pissed, and we had to bury whatever hatchet we had between us and make it work.

On top of that, part of me wondered if Dad just wanted some time with Mom without me. If so, I couldn't be mad about that. I would do the same, so it wasn't hard to convince me to leave with Satan.

I'd do anything for my parents.

The doctor had said Mom had maybe a few months left. Now that Dad was back, it was time—giving time and spending it until the end.

My chest ached. I wouldn't be selfish. I'd had time with her, and I knew no miracle would come from Heaven. As did she. I just wanted her every moment to be special—not for me, but for her. She deserved it.

I took a deep breath then jerked my head to the right. "Say what?"

"You mauled me with your mouth." Hazel crossed her arms and unexpectedly pointed out the kiss that I did not daydream about several times while packing up the Jeep. "And participated."

"Yes. I made out with Bigfoot. I'll be sure to put that on my tombstone after you kill me," I ground out. "It will be right up there with getting a root canal and walking barefoot in the snow while being chased by a bear."

"I might," she muttered.

"What?"

"Kill you." Damn, harsh. I almost laughed.

"Cool, sounds good. I mean, at this rate, we both might die on this camping trip. Do you even know what a tent is?" She didn't. I would die on that hill. She probably thought it was this thin little thing you poked into the ground that protected you at all costs, not realizing you needed food, water, blankets, and any other survival gear she probably couldn't even spell because, again, silver-spoon-fed princess. I liked her, she was pretty, she'd been nice for a while, and I'd felt bad for her. But now? Now, she just seemed stuck up and oblivious to how the world worked around her.

She swallowed like she was suddenly nervous and adjusted her blond ponytail before tapping her right pointer finger against her lips. I hated that I fixated on those lips. I blamed it on the fact that mine had been on hers during some weird shift in the universe. It didn't matter. All we had to do was survive this. "A tent provides protection from the elements."

"Protection, my ass. Even a condom isn't one hundred percent," I muttered and started the engine to my black Jeep. "Let's just make the parents happy so they don't murder us and then pretend everything is fine and that you don't hate me so we can go back home, and I can take care of—"

I stopped talking.

Because my only purpose was my mom.

Hazel's only purpose was to succeed at all costs and become something—something I would never be. Because when someone in your life was sick—your family, someone you loved—you only saw a haze. You didn't see yourself. It was just this glimpse of fog that you hoped you would make it through but knew you probably wouldn't. And then you got terrified that when or if you did, you'd have nothing left but emptiness. No purpose.

"Just go," Dad had said. "I need to take care of Mom… I want—" He hesitated. I hated when he did that, like he was weighing his next words and trying to protect me from something—just like that stupid tent. "I want time and selfishly get all of that if you go end this little war-bet thing with the girl you refuse to admit you like."

"I don't like her," I said, way too hard and fast. Anyone could see through it. I'd loved our kiss. She was pretty—violent, yes, but just something I wanted for myself after sacrificing everything for others. Someone to make me feel alive because I'd been watching what I loved die for years, seeing it slowly fading in front of me, only to one day disappear.

Dad smirked. "Yeah, okay. So whoever gets back and gives up this little prank war this summer and concedes wins. I don't care if it's you or her. What I care about is…" He looked back at my mom sleeping on the couch. "I care about her, and I know I've been gone a lot, but I really want to spend some time with her without you. I don't mean that in a hurtful way, it's just…life is sometimes spent so often with family and kids, and everyone wants to be together, but there comes a point in time where you want to go back to the past. Where it was just you and the person you fell for. Where you can lie to yourself and say everything's going to be the same if you just have that other person by your side. I know she's sick. I know we don't have a lot of time. But with the time we have left, it would be"—tears streamed down his cheeks—"a gift, I think, to just be with her in love while you go battle in war. Is that okay?"

The fact that he"d even asked me for permission was enough.

The fact that he'd made perfect sense made it even harder.

They were going to have a honeymoon before the funeral. Depressing, inspiring, call it whatever you wanted.

And I couldn't be angry that he selfishly wanted that time with his wife. Given the choice, I would do the same.

"Fine." Hazel jolted me out of my thoughts and buckled her seat belt, snapping it into its spot with finality. "Let's just go. Let's camp, explore wildlife. Maybe we can befriend a fox and then come back and tell everyone how magical it was." She pushed her hands together. "We could burst out in song. I mean, a small one, nothing too crazy, and then boom, we go our separate ways, everyone's happy, and the dads don't take away all the things we need to survive. Done."

"I'm already surviving," I pointed out as we pulled out of the driveway. I mentally made a checklist of all the supplies we had and what we still needed to pick up. Hazel thought this was some sort of lying down of arms, when really, I knew what it actually was.

An excuse for my dad to have one last moment with my mom.

I'd let Hazel believe it was because of her weird costume and pranks, but I knew my dad had seen an opening, an opportunity, the minute he came home. Assuming my dad was as close to hers as he claimed, Travis likely felt the same way.

Sending your kids away so you could have special moments with your soulmate before everyone came back and prepared for the worst.

I shook the dark thoughts from my head. "You're milking."

"A cow?" she shrieked.

"No, life," I deadpanned.

"I'm not. I went to college, I graduated, I'm going to start working and—"

"Did you pay for it? College? Did you even think for one second how hard it is for others to even go to college, let alone sit there all smug like—"

"She died!" Hazel yelled, making me suddenly swerve into oncoming traffic as I tried to pull onto the highway. "My great-grandma died while I was trying to pass my last business class to graduate, so don't preach to me about how hard things are. Yes, it's hard financially for a lot of people, but don't for one second forget how hard it is for those who go through emotional trauma while trying to survive. Now, drive."

"Finally." I hit the accelerator, ignoring how her words hit so deeply that I felt as if she'd bruised my chest. She knew my mom was sick. She had no clue how bad things were or that we'd been given such a short time before she passed unless a miracle happened.

One thing I could appreciate about our doctor was that he was always brutally honest. I'd rather be given the truth than a lie that would leave me unaware. And unprepared.

I cleared my throat. I was uncomfortable and suddenly emotional. I almost wished the stupid costume was back. "That's something we can agree on. The emotional trauma is worse. It's always worse."

"Like anxiety," she agreed.

"Like knowing you can do nothing but have to keep trying."

"Because if you stop…" She sniffed. "It means they died in vain."

"Yeah."

"Yeah." She looked out the window. "Keep driving. I'm going to close my eyes. Try to go in straight lines, August."

"I color outside of them."

Her eyes were closed, but she smiled and hugged her chest with her arms. "Yeah, this is my shocked face."

"It's a pretty face."

"Was that a compliment from my high school nemesis?"

"Never." I grinned and hit the accelerator. "I'll wake you up when we stop at the store before the campsite I normally go to. I hope you packed warm."

"Blankets and jackets." She yawned. "Oh, and a light stick. I grabbed one of those."

"To throw at the bear when it attacks you or what?"

She didn't answer. Within seconds, she was already asleep, her head lolling to the side. Smiling, I reached over and gently pushed her toward the door so she could rest against something, then jerked my hand away.

No. Just no. She was pretty, and sometimes she was nice when she wasn't trying to sneak into my house or offend me, but she wasn't for me.

I sometimes wondered if I would ever have enough actual space in my heart to take someone else on. Other times, I was reminded that the minute my mom died, I'd have a vacancy, but it was more like a foreclosure on my soul. One that said nothing would ever exist there again and nobody would want to buy it.

What was dead and gone was dead and gone, and sometimes it was best to leave memorials for those people rather than risk getting hurt by filling the hole and losing someone all over again.

I'd keep the rooms empty.

I'd keep the lights on somehow.

And I'd remember.

It was the best I could do.