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THE LAST CHANCE ROAD TRIP
SARA JANE WOODLEY
1
Val
I made a mistake.
A colossally huge, bonkers mistake. At some point in my life, I must’ve crossed a black cat, or accidentally broken a mirror, or stepped on a magical bug that cursed me.
It’s the only possible explanation for why I’m here today, at twenty-one years old.
Stuck in a tree.
Yet, regardless of how I got here, none of that changes my reality. Which is this: I, Valentina Brinn Reyes-Murphy, a grown woman with a respectable, brand-spanking-new job at our town’s Inn, am clinging onto a branch in an ancient relic of a childhood treehouse. Complete with ripped pants.
Didn’t I tell you? Bonkers. But at least it can’t get any worse.
Or so I believed until the guy I grew up with, the guy I dated for two world-changing months before he broke my heart appears right below me.
He doesn’t see me right away, and I pray to every single deity, ruler of the universe, and magical bug for it to stay that way. The last thing I need is for Ethan Holmes to see me like this—hanging onto a tree branch for dear life with my pink good-luck granny-panties on full display.
And to think that today started off so well…
I woke up this morning buzzing with nervous excitement for my first day working as a receptionist at the Brookrose Inn. I got my degree in Travel and Tourism this past spring and worked all summer in a restaurant, waiting for this moment. My chance to finally move forward from the past and be my “highest self.” To find out exactly who I am since my breakup this past February.
Yes, this girl’s had two significant relationships end within the past four years. Which seems high for my age. Mom says that I have an old soul, but shouldn’t I be out sowing corn, or whatever the expression is?
I digress. I had breakfast and was out the door with plenty of time to get to the Inn. But as I walked, I found my legs taking me elsewhere. Taking me here.
To the treehouse.
I don’t often come here, but today, it felt right. Maybe I was nostalgic or something, remembering the happy days of my childhood. Back before Ethan left for Montana and I began dating Randal. That was his name, by the way—the guy I dated for three and a quarter years.
Anyway, I got to the treehouse, pulled down the old, frayed rope ladder, and climbed up through the trapdoor in the floor. I didn’t see the branch until it scraped along my upper thigh. I felt the fall breeze on my behind and knew the damage had been done.
So while already planning a quick detour back to my house to change my pants—but not wanting to give up on my nostalgia-fueled mission quite yet—I sat on the creaky floor and took a couple deep breaths. Noticed the old, peeling glow-in-the-dark stars, the fairy lights with bulbs that don’t work anymore. I grimaced at the small, dark hole in the corner wall. The one that looked like the perfect hiding spot for all kinds of critters and bugs.
Maybe even… spiders.
And that’s where I was, sitting cross-legged and grimacing at the forbidding, spider-infested (probably) hole when Ethan Holmes appeared out of nowhere and took up residence directly below me.
Like, not two feet away.
I’d recognize that shaggy mahogany-brown hair anywhere. Not to mention his unmistakable height and those broad shoulders—the combination of which always made me feel like I was a cute, dainty fairy whenever I was with him. A rare occurrence for me given that these hips definitely don’t fall anywhere near the “Tinkerbell” category.
Ethan peers up at the treehouse, and I press myself against the wall. I hold my breath.
Please don’t come up here!
And also, why are you here?!
Since moving away right before our senior year, Ethan’s been back to Mirror Valley a few times, and I’ve gone to great lengths to avoid him every time he’s come to town. I steered clear of the gym he used to go to, and the bookstore he once loved. I made sure not to drop by the Valley Roast—my favorite coffee shop—or eat at the restaurants in town. One Christmas, he suddenly came around a corner and I ducked behind a bush so fast, I pulled my hamstring. Another time, I crab-walked behind some unsuspecting woman’s stroller until he passed me by.
But it was all worth it. Because he never saw me.
I may have all the grace of an overexcited corgi, but I can move like a wily cat when I need to.
