Page 157 of Major Love

Which is why I’m now checking the rearview mirror every five freaking seconds, because my half an hour is up and I know that Jason will have found the note that I left him.

I sink my teeth into my lower lip, tapping my pointer finger anxiously against the wheel, as the evergreens of Phoenix Falls start opening up.

My carry-on is in the back, my boots are on my feet, and my cowgirl hat is resting beside me as I leave the town border for the second time in my life.

The further I drive away from town, the more the snow seems to have melted and, as great as that is in terms of my driving, I can’t help but feel a deep pain in my chest. I’ve had more than fifteen years without this kind of landscape, and I’m upping sticks and leaving it all over again.

Even if it’s only for a day, my stomach tightens at the thought.

Something about leaving… it just doesn’t feel right.

And then I cast an unintentional glance over to my left, and my thundering heartbeat stumbles as something catches my eye.

The gas station.

It’s just a regular run-of-the-mill small-town gas station, but it makes me almost hit the brakes the second that I see it.

I swallow hard and refocus on the blacktop, but my mind is already speeding down memory lane.

On the night of our prom, when Jason buckled me into his truck… racing up the mountain paths to take my mind off everything…

And here.

He drove us here.

Campfire smoke was in the air, guitar strings were twanging through the woods, and the roads were almost empty which meant that Jason floored the gas like there was no tomorrow.

And, in a way, I guess there isn’t.

And if there’s anything I learnt from that night – from losing my step-dad – it was that.

It really is that simple.

Now is all that we have.

“Jesus,” I whisper shakily, glancing through the rearview mirror again, but this time it’s to look at the gas station fading through the trees and into the distance far behind me.

Even though Jason wasn’t of legal drinking age he looked old enough, so we’d held hands as we walked the aisles – me, totally unseeing because I was almost blinded by my overwhelming distress, and Jason, checking on me every three seconds, and doing everything in his power to make me feel better – and then eventually we stopped in front of the liquor cabinet. And Jason had glanced over my shoulder toward the guy at the till before leaning down and whispering in my ear that he’d get me something to drink if I wanted him to.

But I didn’t. I wanted to feel it, because feeling the emotions was all I had left.

My feelings and my memories, and I didn’t want to numb a single second.

So he’d wrapped me up under his arms and bought me a big bag of candy instead, even though he knew I’d be too shaken to eat any, but the option was there if I changed my mind.

I brush something icy away from my cheek and blink down at my fingertips in surprise when I realise that they’re damp.

I’m crying.

“Come on, Sunday,” I whisper to myself, sniffing quietly and pulling myself together. “It’s just a freaking gas station,” I murmur, breathing out a laugh at how sentimental I can be.

But it’s always the smallest things that mean so much.

And no amount of money can compare to being unconditionally loved.

I glance back toward the mirror, seeing the gas station now completely hidden through the trees.

No amount of money, I think to myself, looking ahead again.

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