Page 101 of The Knotheads Next Door
"I know," I interrupt, "but vehicular manslaughter isn't the answer."
In the backseat, Wells looks like he might actually be sick—a combination of Jasper's driving and the emotional turmoil we're all experiencing. His usual composure has completely abandoned him, replaced by a wild-eyed panic I've never seen before.
"We fucked up," Jasper mutters, taking another turn that has the truck tilting precariously. "We all fucked up."
For once, I don't argue with his blunt assessment. We did fuck up. Spectacularly. All three of us in our own ways—Jasper with his emotional retreat, Wells with his ill-timed comment, me with my inability to make either of them see sense before it was too late.
And now Rowan is gone, her room empty except for a note that simply read:Thanks for everything.
Gerald was gone too, his carrier missing along with Rowan's meager possessions. She hadn't even said goodbye. Just slipped out while we were arguing, packed her car, and disappeared.
It was Lala who alerted us, calling Wells's phone in a panic:"She's leaving town! Like, RIGHT NOW! What did you idiots do?"
What did we do? Everything wrong, apparently.
"There!" Wells suddenly shouts from the backseat, pointing ahead. "That's her car!"
Sure enough, about a quarter mile ahead, a familiar battered Honda is making its way toward the highway that will take Rowan out of Vineyard Groves and out of our lives. Even from here, I can see the red taillight that never quite got fixed, the dent in the back bumper from a parking mishap she told us about one night over dinner.
Jasper floors it, the truck surging forward with a roar that would be impressive if it weren't so terrifying. "I'm going to cut her off."
"What? No!" I grab his arm, my voice sharper than intended. "You can't force her off the road, Jasper! She'll never forgive you—she'll never forgive any of us!"
"Then what do you suggest?" he demands, not slowing down. "Let her go? Give up?"
"No, but—" I rack my brain for an alternative, something that won't involve automotive assault. "The overlook! Pull off at the overlook!"
"What?" Jasper glances at me like I've lost my mind.
"The scenic overlook," I clarify quickly. "The one above the vineyard. She loves it there—she mentioned it after the festival. It's just ahead, before the highway entrance. If we can get there first, maybe she'll see us and stop."
It's a long shot, but it's better than Jasper's plan to play chicken with Rowan's considerably less sturdy vehicle.
Jasper hesitates, clearly torn between his instinct to pursue and the logic of my suggestion. Behind us, Wells makes a sound that might be agreement or might be suppressed nausea—it's hard to tell at this point.
"Fine," Jasper finally concedes, easing off the gas slightly. "But if she drives past—"
"Then we follow," I promise. "But at a safe distance. Like normal, rational human beings, not like we’re stalkers in a Mateline episode."
Jasper scowls but takes the turnoff for the overlook, the truck's suspension groaning as we hit the gravel access road at higher than recommended speeds. We pull into the small parking area, which thankfully is empty of tourists at this hour.
The view is stunning even in my distracted state—rolling vineyards stretching toward the lake, the town nestled between them like a painting come to life. No wonder Rowan loved it here.
"Now what?" Wells asks, finally finding his voice as he climbs out of the backseat on unsteady legs.
"Now we hope she sees us," I say, scanning the road below where Rowan's car should appear any moment. "Jasper, flash your headlights when her car comes around that bend. Make sure she notices us."
"And if she does?" Jasper asks, already leaning into the truck to hit the high beams. "What exactly is our plan here, Theo? What do we say to her?"
It's a fair question. We've spent the past hour in such a panic about Rowan leaving that we haven't actually discussed what we'll do if we manage to stop her.
"We tell her the truth," I say simply. "That we love her. That we want her to stay. That what happened wasn't a mistake—it was the start of something we all want. That we're sorry for being idiots and making her think, even for a second, that she doesn't mean everything to us."
Jasper and Wells exchange a look I can't quite interpret, but neither contradicts me.
Progress, I suppose.
"There she is," Wells says suddenly, pointing to where Rowan's Honda has just appeared around the bend below us. "Jasper, the lights!"
