Page 64 of The Roads We Follow

“Is that your brother’s daughter?”

“Yes. Hannah will stand straight up in her bed as soon as Garrett and Kacy put her and her twin sister, Lainey, down for the night. The rule is that they can’t get out of their bed once the lights go out, so instead she sings and dances and tosses all the toys she ferreted away during the day at her sister to get out of sleeping.” He shakes his head. “Little stinker.”

“I hope I get to meet them someday,” I say without realizing how presumptuous it sounds until it’s out. Micah and I are only friends. Sure, we’re friends who almost kissed and spent the night together on the same mattress while reading his mother’s old journals until dawn, but yeah ... only friends.

What are his thoughts on all that this morning? I can’t get a read on him.

“I’m sure they’d like you—all of them.” He pulls his gaze to the road again. “I’ll wake you when we stop.”

“All right.” I push to standing and begin my climb over the driver’s cockpit toward the back when I remember the other wake-up he assisted with this morning. I pause and twist to crouch near his ear so as not to be overheard. “Thank you for what you said to Hattie this morning.”

His brow crimps in confusion. “When?”

“When you told her to find the light switch.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t,” I admit softly.

He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but I see the way the cords in his neck tense and release on his next exhale. “What she’s going through right now ... it’s tough. I’ve sat with a lot of hurting parents in her position. I don’t envy her pain.”

Quite an observation coming from a man I know is carrying around a considerable load of his own pain right now. Grief. Betrayal. Secrets still unanswered.

I can’t help but reach out and touch his shoulder, wishing he wasn’t behind a steering wheel right now so I could give him a hug. “You’re a good guy, Micah.”

As his beautiful eyes flick to mine in the rearview mirror, my insides liquefy. “Get some rest, Sunshine.”

On my way through the lounge, I pass an unconscious Hattie splayed out on the sofa and take a moment to cover her bare legs with a light throw blanket. The inside of the bus is chilly with the AC on full blast.

When I straighten, I notice Adele sitting at the dining table. Her laptop is propped open in front of her, but her distant stare is directed out the window. The stress lines around her eyes have softened into a reflective expression that looks ... sad. The occasions I’ve witnessed this side of my sister have been so few and far between in the last handful of years that I can’t bring myself to look away. I’m suddenly struck by an onslaught of memories. Me sitting with her at her kitchen table while Cheyenne was off at elementary school. Though our age gap has always felt vast, as a teenager, I valued my alone time with Adele differently than I did with Hattie.

Hattie took me shopping for new clothes and talked about the latest décor trends and brainstormed the big events she had upcoming at the label, while Adele fed me smoothies with hidden veggies and quizzed me on my schoolwork with Jana. History, politics, math, and even for a short time my Bible lessons and Scripture memorization. But there was always this moment at the end ofour time together when she’d step down from playing the role of Strong Older Sister to simply be my friend. We’d discuss the artists she enjoyed at the label and those she could barely tolerate. She’d show me recipes she was saving for rainy days that rarely came and ask me to weigh in on family vacation plans we rarely took due to Daddy’s obligation to the label. We’d laugh at Mama’s eccentricities and shake our heads at Daddy’s lack of work-life balance.

As I matured, so did our talks at her kitchen table. The most memorable of them all having to do with Tav. While the whole of my family rooted for the moody musician I’d been infatuated with since childhood, Adele cautioned me about his intentions.

Somehow my big sister had called the end of our love story before the first chapter had ever been written.

My throat tightens as I think of what I’d give to go back to the days where honest conversation flowed easily between us and trust went both ways. But just as quickly as the thought comes, so does a sickening wave of realization: I can’t ask her for what I haven’t been willing to give myself.

Maybe Micah was right last night in the hotel room. Maybe I’ve been fooling myself into believing this secret I’m keeping about Peter is for their protection, when really it’s me I’m trying to protect. If I want Adele to confide in me, then don’t I have to be willing to do the same with her?

I offer up a silent prayer and take a seat across from my sister. Her expression goes from mild confusion at my presence to resignation.

“If this is about what happened with Cheyenne last night, I’m really not—”

“It’s not,” I say quickly. “But I can understand why you’d be upset.”

Her tired eyes rove my face, but she says nothing more.

I will my mouth to open, but it takes several tries until the courage shows up. “I was hoping to talk to you about something else.” I rub my lips together and again plead with God to give me the right words. It’s been a long time since I’ve tried to engage in a conversation with Adele of this depth. “The day Mama showed up in thedriveway with Old Goldie, I had a meeting with an editor friend of mine, and he mentioned a—”

“You met with an editor?” Adele’s posture stiffens. “For what reason? I thought you agreed to put your hobby on hold for now, Raegan. There’s too much going on.”

On second thought, I probably should have jumped ahead to the phone call when Chip confirmed the tell-all. “He was giving me feedback on a manuscript, but that’s not actually what I—”

“Raegan.” She drops her head into her hands and kneads her temples. “I don’t have the capacity to talk about your fiction when so much in our real world is hanging by a thread. It’s not a good time.”

Her disparaging tone sparks a fire in my belly. “I’m not asking you to discuss my fiction with me. I haven’t asked that of you since the last time you shot it down and told me I needed to put the family first.”

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