Page 42 of Wish Lists and Road Trips

I stood there blinking after Nick as he took off across the dirt parking lot like he was on some sort of mission. Where the hell was he going? Had I completely misjudged the reason he’d dragged me out of the bar?

No, I definitely hadn’t. He’d been laughing with me, the kind of laugh where you couldn’t catch your breath. And then he’d pressed that smile so close to mine that most people would have called it a kiss. A fraction of his mouth had been on a sliver of mine and he’d held me so tightly, I could feel his heart beating beneath his shirt even over the bass from the band. Even if it wasn’t a kiss, at the very least, he’d wanted to.

And then he’d left me standing here in this parking lot.

I kicked an empty beer can laying in the dirt.Gawd, leave it to Nick to be just confusing enough to make me analyze and wonder andobsess. I’d thought when he suggested we leave that maybe he was suggesting . . . well, I don’t know what I thought, but it was obviously stupid of me.

Now I was really obsessing over what he might be doing over there in the dark. Only because I knew enough about Nick to feel how unspontaneous his heart was. Darting away into the night was about as un-Nick-like as not knowing where you were going to eat next or wearing a color other than blue.

I stood on my tiptoes, my flattened hand to my brow, and squinted. I was trying to spot Nick’s silhouette, study his posture for any signs of how he might be feeling, but he was beneath a willow tree large enough to block my view with its tendrils.

Hidden from me again, Nick.How tragically metaphorical.

I walked to the corner of the building so I could hear the music while I waited. I was contemplating going back in, when I felt a hand on my hip and the heat of another body behind me. I let myself soak in that little touch before I turned around and gave him hell.

“Took you long enough. What the heck were you—”Oh.

Instead of Rock Solid, I got a nose full of some spicy, too-strong cologne. This wasn’t Nick’s hand. It was Dean. My stomach sank with disappointment.

“Your boyfriend leave you out here all alone?” He smiled and I saw a flicker of what Nick was talking about. Just a tiny hint of nefariousness in the way his eyes raked over me. My heart gave a little warning blip.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said. I probably should have kept up that charade, just to be on the safe side, but for some reason playing pretend about me and Nick made my chest hurt.

Besides, we were in a well-lit parking lot. There was a big guy in a Security T-shirt just inside that door.See, Nick?I could be safe on my own. I didn’t need Nick to keep me alive. And I certainly didn’t need him to keep me company when other people were more than happy to actually talk.

Dean grunted an acknowledgment and his fingers, still on my hip, curled tighter, shifting my weight until I stumbled forward and fell into him. My body instantly rejected the contact. That blip in my heart rate turned into a thump.

I braced my hands on his chest and pushed, but his other hand came up like a viper and caught my wrist. Now a whole symphony of alarm bells clattered in my brain. I tried to look over his shoulder, search again for Nick, but Dean was too tall.

“You looked awful pretty up there on that bar. Dancing like that.” His breath smelled like cheap beer and chewing tobacco, and I stifled a gag. “How about you come back to my place and dance just for me?”

Fear licked at the back of my neck but my gut told me to keep from pissing this guy off until Nick came back. And he would come back. He wouldn’t leave me for too long. He was too responsible and had zero faith in me.Nick! Where the hell are you?

“No, thank you,” I said. I forced a smile and tried to pull out of his grip but he was too strong.

“Come on,” Dean said. “You know you want to. I saw you in there, smiling at me.”

I managed to jerk my body free and took two steps backward, but he caught my forearm, his meaty fingers pressing hard enough that I could feel a bruise forming. It was pure instinct, what happened next. I spun in his direction, my eyes scrunched shut, and jabbed out and up until I connected with something solid.

“What the fuck?” Dean brought a hand to his bloody lip and tears flooded my eyes.

“Ow. Ow. Ow.” I cradled my hand.Shit, that hurt. Damn it. I hadn’t thought about how hard a jaw and teeth might be when colliding with my fist. I saw stars, but my adrenaline was still surging, telling me to go. Now.

I skidded to a stop on the muddy embankment across the street from the bar and looked up at the enormous, ancient weeping willow tree. It was the kind that you picture when you think of the Bayou, long vines reaching to the ground, sturdy arms.

I shook my head. It was number nine on the list—the top of a tree. When I’d read it, I’d imagined leaving some of the ashes on a palm tree on the beach at one of the tropical places Alex was sending me. When we’d boarded that plane to Houston, I was sure I’d lost my chance, but this—awillow—standing alone on a small strip of grass overlooking a river was a sign I couldn’t ignore.

I stepped cautiously toward the lowest branch, wrapping my mind around how I knew this was the tree I was supposed to be at and how I’d stumbled upon it in the most random way—how I was never supposed to be in rural Louisiana of all places. It was eerie.

The branch seemed to hold my weight when I hung from it, so I put a foot on the trunk to get some leverage. When I’d parkoured my way high enough, I swung my leg over the droopy branch. It groaned but it held.

I tipped my head back against the trunk and closed my eyes, pulling hot muggy air into my lungs. This wasn’t getting any easier. Each time I performed a task from this treasure hunt from beyond, a bitter taste crept into the back of my throat, and my fingers shook.

As much as I hated that he’d sent me to do this, I knew that once I was done, this tangible connection to Alex would be lost. There’d been a little bit of relief mixed with the stress when I thought I wasn’t going to get to finish it. I didn’t want to do it and I didn’t want it to end and I wasn’t sure how to reconcile those two places in my brain. I couldn’t reconcile any of it.

It was impossible to believe Alex was anything but alive. I could still feel him here. In the first few moments of every day before I remembered. In the weight of the tin, still in my pocket. In the way my heart seemed to beat double every time I poured his ashes somewhere new––one for me, one for him.

In the way my whole body had ached to kiss Brit just then, and my first instinct was to ask my big brother what the hell I should do about it.

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