The Road That Leads to Us (Us 1)

She cracked a half smile and bounced on the bed as she reached for the packet of sweet and sour dipping sauce.

I pulled my burgers and fries out of the bag and sat back.

My stomach rumbled at the smell of the food and Willow giggled.

“Your stomach sounds like a bear.” She smiled as she dipped a fry in the sauce. “I can’t believe you’re still hungry after everything you’ve eaten today.”

“I’m always hungry.” It was the honest truth. I’d driven my mom mad when I was a teenager. She couldn’t keep the pantry stocked with food because of me.

I bit into my burger, eating nearly a quarter of it in one bite.

Willow flicked a piece of damp hair out of her face and wiggled around. She was constantly moving. The girl couldn’t sit still if her life depended on it.

“I think we did pretty good today. We didn’t get lost once.”

“We’re still relatively close to home,” I reminded her. “Most of the routes are still familiar.”

She shrugged. “That’s true.” She paused, nibbling on one of her chicken nuggets. “How far do you think we’ll go tomorrow?”

“No idea.” I crumbled up the empty wrapper and reached for my second burger. “If we find a place worth stopping, we will, and if we don’t we keep going.”

She nodded, absorbing my words. “I like this plan of yours. I mean, it’s a lot like my plan with my friends, because I had no idea where I wanted to go, but I was planning to use a navigation system. Getting lost with Lauren and Greta wasn’t appealing.”

“But getting lost with me is?” I jested, curious as

to what she’d say to that.

She pondered my words and reached up to brush a crumb from her bottom lip.

Finally she spoke and her voice rang with certainty—there was rarely any vagueness with Willow, and said, “Yeah, it is.”

She finished eating and stuffed all the trash in the empty bag.

She picked up her drink and slurped at it, seeming lost in her thoughts, which was rare for Willow. Normally she spit everything out, not caring that she might be better off keeping her mouth shut.

But she was different now.

It’d happened while she was at college.

It was as if a bit of her free spirit had been dampened.

I didn’t like the thought of Willow not being herself—of turning into an emotionless robot like the rest of the world. I wanted her to find her way back to who she was.

I finished my food and disposed of the bag in the lone trashcan in the room.

I grabbed my bag and went to shower while Willow returned to her journaling.

I was going to have to snag that thing and see what she was writing in there.

By the time I’d finished in the bathroom it was nearing ten o’ clock.

Willow had set her journal aside and was lying in the bed wide-awake.

“You want the TV on?” I asked her.

The TV in the room looked ancient. It was one of those with a curved screen that jutted way out in the back. Honestly, the thing should be considered a fossil.

“Doesn’t matter to me.”