Page 82 of The Roads We Follow

He’s reaching for his deodorant and toothbrush on his side table as I move toward him and touch his arm. His entire body goes rigid.

“It will be okay, Micah, you’re not alone in this. You should take your time, there’s no need to rush into anything.”

I watch the constriction of his back muscles on his next inhale and exhale exchange and try not to imagine how to navigate the introductions between—

“Dorian’s not my father.”

His words release a pressure valve in the center of my chest that allows all my oxygen to whoosh out at once. I remove my hand from his arm and press my palm to my anxious heart. “Oh, thank God. How do you know for sure?”

But when he turns to face me, his expression is not one of gratitude at all. “He’s unable to have biological children.”

“Then what about Tav?”

He turns away again. “I’m sure your mom will fill you in on everything. But right now, I have to go.”

“Go where? What are you talking about?” I try to get a better read on him even though my every internal alarm bell is ringing.

“To an auto-parts store in Denver with Billy. We’ll be gone overnight.” He drops his reading glasses into a case and zips it into the front pouch of his backpack before slinging the strap over his shoulder.

I reach for him and gently tug his arm. “Stop, please.”

He drops his gaze to his feet.

“Were you really just going to leave without ... without even telling me what’s going on with you?” My voice is dangerously close to slipping into a new octave.

This time when his eyes find mine, there’s something new there.Hurt. “Well, you didn’t bother to tell me you were engaged.”

I rock back a step, mind reeling, but I manage to hold up my left hand and show him my empty ring finger. “I broke things off last fall, just like I told you I did. I’mnotengaged to Tav.”

The intensity of his hooded gaze makes it feel as if he’s memorizing every line and curve of my face. He cycles a painfully slow breath before he says, “He seems to be confused about that, and honestly, Raegan...” He studies my mouth for three impossibly long heartbeats. “I wonder if you might be a little confused, too.”

“No, Micah, that’s not—”

He holds up his hand and drops his chin to his chest. “Look, I like you, Raegan, a lot, and I wanted to believe we were on the same page, but the whole reason I’m on this trip is because someone I cared about held back the truth from me. It’s probably best we take a step back and give each other space to think things through.”

“I don’t need to think things through. I know what I want and it’s not Tav.”

“And yet you’re still taking his calls.”

His sharp words puncture through me as he moves to stand in the doorway without a backward glance. “I’ve gotta go. We’ll be here for a couple more days. I hope you accomplish everything you need to with the extra time.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me to wonder if I’ve just ruined one of the best things to ever happen to me.

Two days in a big quiet house where all the inhabitants are occupied in various ways should have felt like an answer to prayer; after all, time was what I needed to finish these chapters before the festival. But time was also a reminder of the chasm that had opened up between Micah and me. Which made the hours move ever so slowly.

At least Hattie had filled the hours with one-on-one pie-making and life lessons with fellow divorcée, Dottie, while Adele took advantage of uninterrupted office time at the local coffee shop down the road. Cheyenne became Mama’s accompanist in the family room, going over her song set for Watershed—per Adele’s request—while I struggled to put words on the page. But try as I might, my mind continually drifted back to Micah standing in his bedroom, accusing me of lying to him by omission. The same way his mother had done to him.

And every time I replay it over in my mind, I wish I would have said something back—something to better explain myself. But then again, he’d probably dismiss any explanation I offered as an excuse. Micah had made his point clear many times over now. He doesn’t agree with how I’m handling my family situation or with how I handled Tav. And maybe he’s right. Maybe I have been stalling in more ways than one.

In the few hours he wasn’t on the road with Billy or working alongside him at the shop, I’d offered him a wide berth, even though that’s not what I want. But seeing how he hasn’t sought me out, I’ll continue to give him the space he’s asked for.

As we sat down for a final dinner at Dottie’s house last night, I could have sworn I felt his gaze on me as Billy told riveting tales about the unsolved mysteries of what car mechanics discover during routine services, but every time I looked up, Micah was looking down at his plate.

We opted to leave the morning after the bus was given a clean bill of health from Billy so we’d have a full day of drive time ahead of us. Dottie’s tearful good-bye was bittersweet as she sent us away with more pies than our tiny RV fridge could hold. Apparently, Micah had saved Adele’s premade meals from certain death when Old Goldie was without electricity for days by loading them into a cooler at the shop, which scored him points where my big sister was concerned.

Due to our extended stay in Kansas, Mama decided to skip thephoto op she’d been hoping for at Four Corners Monument. As documented in the journals, she and Lynn stopped there on their original road trip. But it was too far south and ultimately not worth the delay.

I finished reading Lynn’s journals on my own last night. Micah had left them in my room, and I needed to understand the rest of the story, unfinished as it was. I’d sat at my computer for nearly two hours afterward, riding a wave of creative inspiration. Her angst and emotion were palpable, stirring my own creative juices, but even still, her final entries haunted me.

---