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The heat of his hand on my leg disappears as he rolls off the bed and to his feet.
“Are you okay?” I push up to sit with my legs tucked beneath me.
He shrugs me off, his jaw firm as he rifles through his duffle bag. The movie ends in a poignant, full-circle moment I would point out if Devin wasn’t blinded by his own life. A fatherless son. I can only imagine how that must feel, especially when scenes like the one we just watched remind him of what’s missing.
“You were six or seven when your dad left, right?” I ask in a near whisper, the few stories Willa mentioned about their father coming to mind. “Willa said it was like he went away on a business trip and never returned. Like—”
“What in the hell are you doing?” Devin snaps, his brown eyes flashing.
“I just… I want you to know I’m here if you want to talk about him or—” I cut my explanation off at the derisive laugh he contains under his breath.
“You think I’m going to answer all your nosy questions because we cuddled during one movie? We’re not a couple. We’re barely friends. How naïve are you, Nova?”
Shoving his bare feet into his Vans, Devin grabs a keycard off the dresser and storms out of the room, leaving me to wonder how deep his hurt goes if my simple comment ignites such a fuse.
eight | devin
I ama dick of the highest degree.
Nova was asleep in her bed by the time I returned to our room last night, having walked off the raw emotions firing through me for hours. I wanted to wake her and apologize. Hell, I sat in the chair by the window debating just that while watching her sleep for a creepy long time before deciding against saying anything. She has to be mad about what I said. Let her be angry. We’re too comfortable together, too connected. I don’t make connections. And I don’t need Nova Pratt dissecting the mess in my head.
The bathroom door opens while I’m zipping my packed duffle, and Nova spares me a glance before stuffing her toiletries into her suitcase. “I don’t want to go to the trading post in North Dakota.”
“Okay, I can look for—”
“No,” she cuts me off. “I don’t need you to find something cool, or fun, or interesting. I’ve got it.” She jerks her closed suitcase off the desk with a heavy thunk. “I’ll meet you at the car when you’re ready.”
I face the door as it slams behind her back. This is what I deserve. Her harsh tone, her spitfire temper, her glares. She can vent her anger. I caused it, and the least I can do is take it.
* * *
Nova and I have sat in silence for long stretches in complete relaxation for most of this trip, but these four and a half hours are awkward. She lowered the top and cranked the music so loud before I got into the car that I couldn’t hear myself think. I haven’t asked where we’re going, though I’m not sure she’d tell me or be able to hear my question. So, I give her more time to cool off.
When she veers from the GPS’s instructions and pulls off I-94 at exit 32, I’m eager to ask our direction but bite my tongue. My questions are answered within minutes as she turns off the exit ramp and follows a handful of other vehicles pulling onto a circular road to the right.
“Pit stop?”
Brushing wind blown strands from her face, Nova shrugs a sun-pinked shoulder. “If you need one.” I grind my molars at her tone. “I read a blog that said this stop has a great view of the Badlands without having to do a long hike.”
We pass a Theodore Roosevelt National Park monument sign, several people standing on the rocks for picture opportunities, and loop around to the first open parking spot. “Not in the mood for hiking?”
Nova pauses, looking out the windshield, and I’m resigned to her not answering before she says, “Not in this heat.” She presses the button to raise the top and climbs out of the car.
I snatch my baseball hat from where I stashed it beneath my seat earlier and follow after Nova. The landscape here is unlike anything I’m used to. All the clay cliffs and shades of brown compared to the lush green forests of Michigan. We stand at the split rail fencing, soaking up the views in silence. Leaving Nova to her thoughts, I pull my phone and take a few shots while wandering the visitor center.
Dev: Painted Canyon in North Dakota. This is crazy stunning, but I sort of miss trees, Will.
*Attaches picture*
“On to Montana?” I slide into the Audi, where Nova waits after using the restroom.
“Nope.” She shifts intoReverse.“We’re not done with North Dakota.”
Ten minutes later, we’re pulling onto another exit and cruising a street that transports us to the Wild West.Medora,a wooden welcome sign reads. From an old post office to a saloon, I half-expect a cowboy in wranglers to come trotting down the road on his horse.Ope, I spoke too soon. A horse-drawn wagon strolls by, carting a group of people.
“You have a thing for westerns, Spitfire?”
“You don’t get to make judgments on my choices today.”
