Page 33 of Wish Lists and Road Trips

Instead, a rectangular white sign with blue letters that I’d somehow not managed to catch in the back-up camera glared back at me.

No Parking Anytime. Violators will be—

Ohhh no.

“I’m not mad.” I shoved a hand in my hair and tugged while I paced the parking lot.

Brit sat on the hot asphalt in front of the restaurant, her eyeliner melting in the evening sun and her clothes still covered in pizza. She looked at me with Sad Eyes. “It’s just that your face looks kind of mad.”

Okay, I was fucking furious, but not at her. I know I’d given her a hard time earlier about missing rides, but I didn’t see the sign either. I wasn’t going to put this on her. Though, she seemed to expect that I would, which made me feel a whole lot of other things besides anger. Like guilt and more of that protectiveness she didn’t like.

I sat down beside her and squeezed her shoulder.I have the little green tin, I told myself. Everything else could sit at the tow lot for a little while. At least, I hoped it would only be a little while.

I left a message for the tow company thirty minutes ago. If we didn’t get this squared away quickly, we’d be driving well into the night to make it to Mobile.Fucking hell.

“I really am sorry,” she said quietly.

“Brit, I’m not mad at you. I promise. Come on, let’s find somewhere cooler to wait.” I stood and tugged her hand until she was standing beside me. Her forehead was damp, her cheeks a little too rosy. I could at least use this time to find her some air conditioning and a more comfortable place to sit.

According to the GPS on my phone, the closest shelter seemed to be a strip mall a block away. I was hoping maybe we’d find a coffee shop or somewhere we could rest and charge my phone, but Brit saw something else.

She pumped her fists in the air. “Yes! It’s saved!”

“What’s saved?” I followed her through the door, relieved that the air conditioning seemed to be on full blast. Inside, a beige tile floor was dotted with colorful plastic chairs and the walls were lined with stackable laundry machines. The sign saidWash and Foldand advertised free Wi-Fi and cable TV.

“My outfit,” she said. “I can get the stain out.”

“How’s this going to work?” She was only wearing one layer, and I would not put it past her to strip down right here. Public decency laws aside, I could definitely not handle that.

She pressed a hand on my chest and I allowed myself to be pushed into a seat, then she reached for my backpack.

“What are you doing?” In hindsight, I probably should have been more concerned when she pulled the extra pairs of boxer shorts out of my bag, but I was too worried about her finding the tin.

I didn’t want to have that conversation. My dad had always made a big deal about keeping family business close—God knows he had his reasons with my mother—and this felt like family business.

More than that, I didn’t want her to know because she seemed to see things about me I didn’t mean to let show. I didn’t want her doing her psychic energy schtick and seeing how I really felt about this task my brother had given me.

I shoved my hand in the bag, scooping up the tin at the same time as she whipped out the black T-shirt I’d worn on the zip line. Then slept in. Then wore all day in the airport.

I stuffed the tin in my pocket. “That’s dirty,” I said, grabbing for the shirt.

She jumped out of my reach, a mischievous look on her face as she held it to her nose. “Mmm. Man musk.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Got any clean ones?”

I gave her a look. “Yeah, in the car. With yours.”

She waved off my tone. “And the boxers? Clean?”

Part of me wondered what she would do if I said they weren’t, but I really didn’t want to know. “Yes. They’re clean.” They’d been in there since the zip line too—my last pair. I’d forgotten I had them since I’d bought new stuff at Target.

“Good.” She tucked them under her arm. “I’ll be right back.”

“Hurry,” I called after her. “The tow company could call any minute.” And if they did, we weren’t waiting for a wash/dry cycle.Sorry, Brit’s T-shirt.

I rubbed at my temples as she marched off to the hallway with a restroom sign. I needed to regroup, come up with a plan now that my first one had been blown to hell. I had to admit, I was annoyed that we’d be off scheduleagain, but I didn’t feel the dread in my stomach like I did when my flight had been canceled. What was it about being around Brit that made my pulse race and lowered my blood pressure at the same time?

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