“What the—you sit down and talk about this! Linden!” my father thunders behind me, but I’m already halfway down the hall, turning like I’m on rails.
“No, Brandon, let him go.” Mom’s voice is a distant echo just before the door slams closed behind me.
My head and heart pound in alternation as I burst into my room. The sudden entrance causes a flurry of movement as an orange fluffball triples in size on Micah’s chest. Arching his back and swishing his fluffy tail, Owen hisses at me.
I don’t pay the annoyed cat any attention; instead, I start slamming my books closed where they’re littered across the desk. If only I could have gotten back to them instead of getting trapped downstairs, locked into that conversation. Gritting my teeth, I stuff them all into my backpack without bothering to mark the open pages.
“What—what’s going on?” Micah sits up on my bed, staring at me.
My throat feels tied shut, so I just shake my head.
After my books, I start collecting the clothes that are lying about, uncaring whether I’m grabbing mine or Micah’s. I just keep cramming them into my duffel bag, hissing in annoyance when a piece of clothing resists me.
“Hey.” Micah holds the other sleeve of the hoodie I wore on the Fourth of July. He’s frowning, watching me closely.
I let go of the hoodie and pick things out of the hamper, uncaring that I’ll have to toss everything into the washing machine as soon as we’re home. Halfway across the room, I’m stopped by two hands grabbing my shoulders.
“Linden.” Micah’s voice is quiet, serious.His eyes search my face, but refuse to look at him, even as he squeezes my arms.
“C’mon, what’s wrong?” he asks when I still don’t say anything.
My jaw is working, but it feels more like I’m chewing up the words, turning them into mush. I pull myself free of his grip, holding the bag tightly.
“Get your stuff.” I turn toward the door. My whole body feels stiff, as if I were turning into a statue. “We’re leaving.”
Micah, July 19th
Aboulder sits on my chest, restricting my breath. Outside, the scenery of rural Vermont flies past as we make our way up north. Red houses and little white churches that look like they were all built for travel blogs. Brick buildings line the main roads of every small town we pass through, and an ocean of trees surrounds us. I’ve been to a lot of states until my family finally settled in North Carolina, but Vermont will always occupy a special corner of my heart.
It takes superhuman will to tear my eyes away from the outside. Glancing at the dashboard confirms my suspicions.
“Lind, you’re speeding,” I announce while I watch the GPS recalculate our time of arrival.
Linden doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns up the volume of the radio. He’s been changing the station every five minutes so far, settling on some generic pop-rock one. Not that I really listen to any of the songs—my ears are still filled with Owen’s pitiful meows. I’m sure he would’ve jumped into the trunk hadn’t Kelly scooped him up and pressed him to her chest while we hastily threw our bags into Linden’s truck.
I still don’t know what happened between Linden and his father because he hasn’t answered a single one of my questions. Obviously, it must have been bad. So bad he didn’t even give me time to say proper goodbyes and thank-yous. I couldn’t even make my rounds around the barn or sneak a little treat to Oak.
Despite all common sense, I still hope to see them again when I come around next time. A “next time” that I keep making up in my head, even when, come fall, Linden will move on to another guy, and I will move on to another future. One that awaits me far away from red farmhouses and green pastures.
The ringing of Linden’s phone has me jumping in my seat. I catch Aspen’s name flashing on the screen before he swipes it away with one hand, the car jerking to the right with his hand motion.
“Linden! Fuck!” I call out, grabbing for the handle just as he steers the car to the left again. We swerve into the other lane, then back to ours. Linden slams on the brakes, bringing us to an abrupt stop in the middle of the road.
For a long moment, neither of us speaks. We just sit there, hearts thumping and hands shaking, our breathing coming out raggedly.
“A-are you okay?” Linden finally breaks the silence, his voice thin.
I nod because I don’t trust my own vocal cords right now, then reach out to put my hand on his knee, just to feel anchored.
“We…we should probably get going?” I say after another moment. We’re still standing in the middle of the road, the engine whirring beneath us.
Linden nods, his hands shaking when he puts them back on the steering wheel. His foot slips from the gas, the car jumps forward, then the engine stalls. He manages to steer it to the side of the road, where it comes to a slow stop.
“S-sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. Micah. I’ll just—”
I put my hand on his elbow when he fumbles for the keys again. “Hey, maybe…let’s just…breathe for a second, okay?” I suggest as my hand slowly glides down Linden’s arm to his hand until my fingers can wrap around his wrist, gently pulling it away.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” He nods, still a bit dazed, his free hand raking through his blond hair and making it stand out in every direction.
