Page 29 of When Wildflowers Bloom

Me:You’ll never believe it—watching The Office.

Bo:Planning your next alter ego?

I laugh.

Bo:What are you doing tomorrow? Gran’s watching Lucy and I want to take you somewhere.

Me:The gym and whatever Mabel is forcing me to read.

Bo:This will be better. Wear whatever you wear to the gym. Send me your address and I’ll pick you up at 9. We’ll find something to checkoff your list.

I pause, terrified. Terrified of someone else being in control and of me not having a clue what is about to happen. Terrified I won’t bring something I need or will be forced to drink some kind of toxic chemicals.

No, that’s crazy, he wouldn’t do that.

Would he do that?

Somehow, my fingers type,Fine. Where are we going?

Bo:To church.

Nine

My mom was devoutlyreligious, a southern Baptist through and through. We went to church every Sunday. When she died, we buried the habit right along with her body. My dad has always believed religion happens outside of a building, saying,“God would never box himself in with four walls.”

I always agreed.

For whatever reason, I agree to go with Bo to his athletic-wear version of church without any questions. As promised, he shows up at nine, and I meet him outside in my yoga pants, T-shirt, and tennis shoes while carrying a large hat and a contingency bag. He’s so aggressively handsome in a ball cap, slightly fitted joggers, and T-shirt my neck flushes from the sight of him alone.

“Birdie,” he says with a lift of his lips—free of the usual toothpick today.

“Bo,” I reply, smiling despite myself.

He hands me a pink sticky note withBreak Routinewritten across it.

When I look at him, he grins. “Today’s task.”

Before I can question it, we’re standing at his Jeep, and my eyes widen.

“Where are the rest of the pieces of your car?” I demand, balking at the missing doors and roof.

His eyebrows pinch. “I took them off. It’s gorgeous out.”

“Is it safe to drive around without doors?” I ask, strained.

His laugh dies when he realizes I’m serious. He clears his throat. “Umm, yeah, it’s safe, Birdie. They sell the Jeep so it can be driven like this.”

I nod slowly. Then, “What if it rains?”

We both look up at the clear blue sky, and he looks at me like he’s not sure how to answer my question.

I look from him to the Jeep with all its missing components, to the sky, back to him. Tension creeps in my shoulders, taking its hold on me. I stretch my neck. Consider my options. Stay or go. Go or stay.

“Fine,” I relent, putting my bag on the floor, get into the seat, and hope I don’t blow away on the highway.

When he’s in his seat, he glances over at me, then the bag, as he starts to back out of my driveway. “What’s all that?”

“Contingency items.”

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