Elevenhours,tworest stops, and one half-drunk quart of Johnnie Walker later, James and I were in Huntsville, West Virginia.
Quantico was only a seven hour shot from here.
Which meant the road trip would be over tomorrow and James would have successfully delivered me to my father.
And then we’d part ways.
I’d figure something out before then to make sure the highly unanticipated father/daughter reunion never happened. But for now, I just didn’t have the capacity to think past my next breath. And the next.
And the next.
Each one hurt. Each inhale burned. The fire had hitchhiked with James and I the whole drive, scrapping with bladed teeth back and forth beneath my flesh for hours. I’d just barely held back from trying to scratch my skin right off to get at the fire. The whiskey had only helped flatline the stinging so much.
Johnny knew I was getting close to failure again. The clock was tick, tick, ticking.
I was forgetting him more and more, day by day, hour by hour, minute by fading minute.
I felt him watching and judging from the sky as James unloaded our bags from the car in front of the cabin we’d stopped at for the night.
We were sort of in the mountains, I think.
The air smelled different up here—fresher and sweeter. It was also a touch colder as nightfall draped a blanketed chill over the land. Goosebumps blossomed across my bare arms and legs, but I didn’t make a move to rub them out.
I liked the cold, I decided in that second.
I liked the tease of what death was going to feel like.
Behind me, pebbles crunched and twigs snapped as James followed in heavy steps to the French double doors of the cabin.
We hadn’t shared a word in hours.
The alcohol in my head sloshed around as I craned my head back to take in our sleeping arrangement for the night. James had apparently had it with spending our nights in cheap motels.
The cabin was really nice.
Light-wooden panels stretched two-stories high to a pointed peak, a burgundy roof covering the top, and forest green shutters bookending each large window. Walking up three front steps, worn wood smoothed beneath my palm as I ran my hand along the railing of the modest wrap-around porch.
James was a radiating presence hovering behind me as my flip flops scraped over the welcome mat.
‘Bless this home and all who enter’ it read. My eyes went rolling at the same time I heard James let go a disgruntled scoff.
Without words, an arm reached around me with a brass key pinched between long fingers.
I plucked the offering from his hand and unlocked the door.
James and I strolled inside, the front door closing with a ‘click’ behind us. Inside was just as nice, just as woodsy and homey and countryside decorative.
I kicked my flip-flops off and nabbed the bottle of Johnnie Walker from James. He let it go easily, heading off somewhere with our bags.
My feet were feeling fuzzy just like my head as I padded around the first floor, glancing at a clock designed to look like a rooster sitting over a red-brick fireplace.
11:13 p.m.
Later than I thought.
My wandering legs took me toward the back end of the cabin. I found the backside of the wraparound porch through some sliding glass doors, and curiosity took me through. Cold zapped my bare toes as I stepped outside onto the smooth wood, abandoning the open door behind me.
Peeking up, I expected to find an onyx sky bursting with clusters of starlight but frowned at the roof extending far enough out that it covered the back porch. It made sense the more I looked around.