Page 112 of Last Call

She pressed the gas again. The engine offered a whine but no power. She recognized it for what it was—death.

“Dammit.”

Barb flicked on her hazard lights and guided the car toward the shoulder, praying the slope wasn’t too steep and she’d have enough momentum to coast. The car crept along the edge of the road, stubborn and fading, until it finally rolled to a stop next to a faded green mile marker and a dented reflector post. She exhaled and gripped the wheel. There was nothing but open road and empty fields ahead.

“Perfect,” she said aloud, resting her forehead on the steering wheel.

She stayed like that for a moment. Here she was, alone and stranded again, the sun warm through the windshield, her coffee now lukewarm in the cupholder, and her mind already racing through the logistics of getting to Owen’s party. She guessedPete would be at Owen’s party by now. She pulled out her AAA card and dialed the number.

“This sucks.”

“I thought Barb was coming?” Billie asked Fallon.

“She is,” Fallon said. “She dropped the girls off at summer camp this morning. We’ll see how that goes.”

“That was today?”

Fallon nodded.

“She asked me what I thought about it,” Billie said. “I told her to pack extra bug spray and invest in a gallon of Calamine lotion.”

Fallon laughed. “I’ll bet you anything they won’t want to go back next year.”

“Or maybe they’ll love it,” Billie offered.

Fallon snorted. She’d gone to a similar camp once.Oncewas enough. She loved the outdoors—all things outdoors—but there was a reason she spent more time in the woods during winter than summer: bugs. Specifically, biting ones. “Evil, munching little fuckers,” she always called them.

She rarely wore short sleeves or shorts when she hiked, even in August. Bug spray and sunscreen were her summer staples. She’d rather sweat than end up covered in welts or a blistering sunburn.

Emily and Summer had never been camping before, at least not the kind of camping they were about to experience. Emily had told her, wide-eyed, that they’d be staying in a cabin.

Fallon had tried to explain thatthiscabin wasn’t like the ones their parents rented on long weekends. There’d be no bathrooms next to their bedroom or cozy fireplaces. It was the kind ofcabin where you walked through the woods to pee and needed a mosquito net to sleep without being eaten alive.

“I guess we’ll see,” Fallon said, watching Owen dart through the yard. Then she glanced at Billie. “Have you thought more about Dave’s idea?”

Billie raised an eyebrow. “You mean the brilliant scheme you two cooked up that somehow involves me riding snowmobiles and standing in the freezing cold to take pictures?”

“It’s not a scheme. And it’s definitely not crazy.”

Billie sighed. “I know Dave’s worried that I’m upset about him not moving into my old house. I’m not.”

“Right.”

“I’m not, Fallon. And you don’t need to invent a way to include me just to make me feel useful.”

“I don’tneedto invent anything.Dave might. And honestly, that doesn’t make the ideacrazy.Seems sensible to me.”

“I’m a nurse, Fallon. Not a photographer. Not a painter.”

“Technically, you’re a teacher now.”

“You know what I mean.”

Fallon smirked. “I know what you’redoing.”

Billie’s gaze narrowed. “What am I doing?”

“Exactly what you always do until someone knocks a little sense into you. Billie, you could absolutely make money with your camera and your paintings.”

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