CALEB
The highway stretches ahead,road markers like a countdown timer.
Four hours to East Texas.
Four hours until I lose her.
My hands grip the steering wheel at nine and three—perfect form, like always—but my knuckles are bone-white.
I check the rearview mirror. Again. Nothing’s changed in the thirty seconds since I last looked, except maybe the tightness in my jaw has gotten worse.
Check the speedometer: 67 mph. Two over the limit. Adjust to 65. Exactly.
Check the rearview mirror again.
Check the side mirrors. Both of them. Left, then right.
Check the gas gauge: three-quarters full. Good foranother 150 miles or so. Selbyville is 240 miles, so I’ll have to make sure to watch it.
Check the time: 7:34 a.m.
Check Harper in my peripheral vision: still quiet, still staring out the window.
Nothing’s changed in the thirty seconds since I last looked, except maybe the tightness in my jaw has gotten worse.
Harper’s curled in the passenger seat, feet tucked under her, staring out the window at the endless Texas scrubland rolling past. She’s been quiet since we left. Too quiet.
I should say something to break the tension. Is this tension? Is she rethinking last night and what she said to me? What I said to her?
Every potential conversation starter dies in my throat because they all lead to the same place:Why the fuck am I driving the girl I love to go marry someone else?
“So, like, this is weird,” Harper finally says.
A laugh escapes me—genuine but edged with something darker. “It’s not weird.”
She turns to look at me, and I catch the movement in my peripheral vision. “You texted them, didn’t you?”
There’s a suspicion in her voice. Like she’s already shoring up the distance between us, brick by brick.
I tip my phone toward her, showing the text I sent Mom and Silas this morning.
CALEB: Harper and I are taking off early for a day at the lake with the other seniors. Be back late. Loveu
Rule #2: Don’t lie to Mom.
Rule #7: Don’t disappoint Mom.
Rule #156: Be honest and transparent.
Three major rules broken in one text message. Plus, if Silas checks Harper’s phone tracker, it’s not like it’ll show we’re at the lake. I disabled it this morning before we left.
“A lie? Boy Scout!” Her eyebrows shoot up. “They’re going to start deducting merit badges. Doesn’t that break one of your precious rules?”
So, so many. If only she knew.
I shake my head but can’t help a smirk. “I was never a Boy Scout, you know.”
“What?” She kicks her heels up on the dash and shoves a Cool Ranch Dorito in her mouth. “Why the hell not? You’d be a scout master’s wet dream.” She waggles her eyebrows.