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“You’d rather we drag everything with us?” he says, walking away.
For a few seconds, I am frozen between wanting to stay with our belongings and following Bastian. Eventually, I let out a small groan, balling my fists in frustration. Grabbing my own backpack, I scurry behind him.
“Why are you acting like this is simply a minor inconvenience?” I say, trying to catch up.
“How would you rather I react?” he mutters, keeping his gaze straight ahead.
“I do not know, just—just act like you care about something for once.” My tone is clipped, and my words hang heavy between us. Focusing on the sound of our steady steps on gravel, I wait for him to reply.
I am about to apologize when he finally speaks. “Would it help?”
It is my turn not to immediately answer. I wrap my arms around my chest, a slight chill to the air. Then finally, I whisper, “No. I guess it would not.”
“Here,” he says while pulling his black crew neck over his head. A small sliver of skin near his hips appears and then disappears with the t-shirt rising underneath. “It’s getting cold.”
I stumble over my step and laugh nervously. “No, that is fine. I am fine,” I say quickly, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.
“It’s not a suggestion,” he says flatly.
A twinge of irritation flares inside me, but I say nothing and snatch the sweater out of his hand.
“Thank you,” I grumble while slipping it on.
I am struck with the scent of him; eucalyptus, fresh laundry, and tobacco. His body heat still lingers between every thread. This time the shiver traveling down my spine stems from a different physical reaction entirely. I barely recognize it and effectively pay it no mind while we continue to walk under the darkening sky. All I know is that when I think about the fact that I am wearing his clothes, I get that feeling again.
Forty-five minutes later, like a mirage in the Arizona desert, we finally reach a gas station. Bastian tells me to sit on a bench while he heads inside to speak to the clerk. I heed his command—only because my feet are tired and I was going to sit and wait anyhow.
I have time to grow bored before he reappears.
“They’ll have someone tow the car to the garage up the road,” he says, meeting my gaze, hands on his hips. I notice black grease still staining his fingers. “It’ll have to wait ‘till morning though. Guy says there’s a motel ten minutes away.” He studies me for a beat. “You okay to walk?”
I stand up and dust off. “Sure. But what about our bags?”
“We’ll just have to manage,” he says, looking into the distance then back at me with the first crack of the closest thing to a smile I have seen from him. “Part of the adventure, Luce.”
* * *
When we finally reach themotel, I am bone tired.
That is until the receptionist informs us that they only have one room available.
Then I am wide awake.
“We’re in the middle of nowhere, how is that even possible?” Bastian says dismissively.
She shrugs. “The circus is in town,” she answers flatly as if that explains everything.
“The fucking circus?” he says in a slow deliberate fashion that would typically intimidate most people—not her.
She gives Bastian a slow blink before repeating herself. “The circus.”
I touch him on the shoulder and his head snaps to my hand, then up to my face. I do not let my fingers linger, absentmindedly wondering if that was the first time I have ever touched him deliberately.
“It is fine. We will figure it out. Just get the room,” I tell him in a quiet voice.
After handing her some cash, she gives us the key and we walk up the outdoor stairway to the second floor, where we find our room at the end of the walkway.
The room has a similar smell to every other motel we have frequented; stale with a hint of cleaning products mixed in. The one king-size bed looms in my periphery, taunting me to acknowledge its presence. It is Bastian that mentions it first.
