I shake my head, like I’m trying to shake off the sinking nausea mingled with guilt and relief that threatens to spiral intosomething a lot worse. I look at the agent just past Fletch, who’s currently tucking the paperwork into a side pouch in his bag.
“Do you know where the nearest bus station is?” I ask him.
The man gives me a baffled look. “No clue. Sorry.”
“That’s okay! That’s what the internet was invented for.”
As the people around me grumble, I search for bus stations and bus routes.
I check every company and route I can find, trying to ignore the icy little bloom of dread in my chest. Mybestoption leaves Denver at 6:15 a.m. tomorrow, connects through Chicago, then Cleveland, and doesn’t hit Rochester until mid-morning three days from now, the day of Dad’s party. That’s assuming every connection makes it through the storm—which, judging by the giant redCancellations Expectedalert, is about as likely as my sprouting wings.
Then a voice cuts into my search.
“Listen, we’re both going the same way, anyway.”
My head flies up, and I blink, sure I misheard Fletch. “What?”
“It’s dumb to make you take a bus when we’re both going the same way.” He picks up his duffel bag, not even looking at me.
He says it like it’s no big deal—like he’s not offering me the only remaining lifeline in Denver.
Maybe it’s guilt. Maybe he just doesn’t want the bad karma of leaving a stranger stranded. Maybe he’s more like the man he was with sweet old Mr. Parkinson from the airport. And if he’s renting the car in his name and adding me to the agreement, there’ll be a full paper trail. Cameras. Receipts. Witnesses. Plenty of evidence if he turns out to be a Dateline episode waiting to happen.
Regardless—irregardless,even—it’s not charity. It’s logistics.
And logistics beat waiting three days for a bus.
I glance at the bus schedule again. If all worked out perfectly, I could get there the morning of the party. But if a single thing goes wrong …
My stomach twists. It would be easy to blame the storm and call it fate, but I’d know I hadn’t done everything in my power to get home.
And disappointing one more family would probably kill me.
“Fine,” I say, the sharpness in my voice sounding foreign in my ears, especially when being stuck with this grump is so much less than the karma I deserve. “But this is strictly a transportation arrangement, not a road trip. And not a truce.”
His mouth tilts into a smirk. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Then he turns back to the desk and looks at the agent. “I need to add a driver.”
We both take a bathroom break—rules of the road and all—and after I wash my hands, I get a message from Arrow.
GreenArrow11
Well, my flight was the worst. I forgot to download Monday’s episode and didn’t have service.
GracieLou
HAHA. I think this is the first time ever I’ve listened to it before you. I just caught up. You’re not going to like it.
GreenArrow11
You know the rules: no spoilers!
GracieLou
I’m not spoiling it. I’m preparing you.
GreenArrow11
