It was like being stranded between two cliffs, one lush with promise, the other sheer with danger, and knowing I’d break on the rocks whichever way I jumped.
I was never more aware of my own duplicity, how my heart could, in the same hour, ache for the soft cadence of Dante’s voice and the raw urgency of Caiden’s grasp.
Caiden was still asleep, his arm draped over his face, mouth open just enough to make a soft, wheezing sound. I watched him for a minute. For all his violence inward and out, he looked more breakable than ever.
I had the desire to crawl into bed by his side and mold myself into his flesh.
Dante texted at 8:00 AM exactly.
Be ready in 30. Getting donuts and coffee. Will honk obnoxiously if you’re not out front.
A smile ghosted onto my face. I texted back.
Don’t bring the ones with sprinkles. Caiden will whine.
Caiden was awake by the time I finished packing my things. He looked at me with the shell-shocked gentleness of someone who expects the next blow to land at any moment, and I realized, with a pang, that he’d probably never had a day in his life where he felt safe.
I couldn’t judge, though. I rarely felt safe either, and I was beginning to understand how similar Caiden and I were.
“You packed?” he asked, voice shredded at the edges.
“Yeah. Dante’s picking us up soon.” I zipped my bag and crossed to the tiny bathroom to run a brush through my hair.
It didn’t go unremarked, the effort we put in, to not mention last night, or the hundreds of nights before it.
We were both on the run from our personal ghosts, and this little plan to drive north with Dante was just another way of pretending we could outrun them.
A honk cut through the morning, followed by the rumble of Dante’s car pulling up under the motel’s warped roof. Hestepped out with a Dunkin’ box in hand and a cup tray balanced on his knee.
I double checked that I had all my belongings. Bags I came with? Check. Boxes containing my dead mother’s possessions? Check.
Caiden was gentler than expected. When he carried the boxes, his hands didn’t squeeze or clutch, but balanced them, as if he worried any abrupt movement might shake loose the last memories of my mother inside.
I watched the muscles ripple under his shirt as he loaded my things into the back, then stood awkwardly beside the car, waiting for me to climb in.
I almost told him he could have the aux cord for the drive, like we were two functional humans, like this was just a road trip.
“Just follow me. I’ll see you two there,” Dante called out as he closed his car door. He led the way out onto the main road, us following.
The drive was almost two hours, twisting from the dull gridwork of Pathosbury into the rolling, pine-choked wilderness bracketed by the state park’s borders.
In the car, silence expanded between us. Caiden drove with both hands on the wheel, and his jaw set hard, but his eyes kept flicking to me. Quick, guilty glances, never quite landing. I took to looking out the window, watching the scenery blur past.
After a while, he said, “You ever been to the lake before?”
I shook my head. “Not this one. My mom took us to Erie once when I was a kid, but it was always public beaches and screaming toddlers.”
Caiden snorted, but not in a mean way. “This place is different. Nobody around for miles. I went a few times with Dante back when we were kids.”
It was hard to remember that Dante was Caiden’s friend first. Anxiety gnawed at me, hoping it wouldn’t be weird for the three of us to be hanging out.
The only times in the past when we would be around each other all at once was during school days when Caiden would bully me, and Dante stood on the sidelines.
The endless forest made it easy to think about nothing at all, so I let my mind slip into blankness and watched the miles spool out behind us.
We stopped once, at a gas station with a single pump and a vending machine that only took cash. Caiden bought us two Cokes and a bag of candy. He handed me the bag wordlessly.
The switch had flipped, and he had curled himself back into his dark corner where nobody could hurt him.
