The Road That Leads to Us (Us 1)

I grabbed the blanket off of my bed and used it to cover him. He would get cold in his damp swim shorts.

I grabbed my journal and the photos we’d taken today and climbed into the empty bed.

I wrote down every detail I could remember about Day Two of our trip. I even wrote about the strange fluttery feeling I felt around Dean now. Sometimes it felt good to write things down, it also helped me to gain clarity on certain situations.

Unfortunately I felt no clarity here.

Still feeling confused I began to add the photos from today into my journal.

When I finished with that I put my journal away, stuffing it all the way at the bottom of my backpack in case Dean decided to try and find it.

It was nearly midnight at this point and I suddenly felt exhausted.

I sent a quick text to my parents and siblings, knowing none of them would probably see it until the morning, and settled into bed again.

“Goodnight, Dean.” I said into the quiet room.

I was almost asleep when I heard his quiet whisper of, “G’night, Willow.”

Dean

It was Day Three of our road trip and Willow was back to counting cows.

“Forty cow, forty-one cow, forty-two cow,” she droned. “I’ve honestly never seen so many cows in my life,” she muttered, “and there are farms galore in Virginia.”

I tapped my thumbs on the steering wheel in time with the music. “Apparently people really like cows.”

“I wonder if any of them have one special cow that’s like a pet,” she mused quietly.

“I’m sure someone out there does.” I shrugged.

“I want a pet cow,” she added.

“What happened to the armadillo you wanted?” I teased. Willow had gone through a phase when she was about twelve where she was obsessed with armadillos.

“Apparently you can’t have them as a pet. ‘Tis a shame, I know, feel free to cry with me.”

I chuckled under my breath. “Besides, with all your dad’s hedgehogs an armadillo might be a bit much.”

“True,” she agreed. Glancing at me, she said, “Why don’t you have a pet?”

“Because I can barely remember to feed myself.”

She laughed and bumped my shoulder with hers. “Dean, that’s hysterical. We both know food is practically all you have on your mind.”

My

lips twitched in amusement. She was right.

“A pet is a lot of responsibility,” I reasoned, “and I work a lot. I’d like to have a dog eventually.”

“You just lost a few points in my dad’s book for not saying hedgehog,” she jested.

“I’m pretty sure I already had zero points in his book.”

“But now you’re in the negative numbers.” She poked my cheek, just trying to mess with me. Willow was always trying to push my buttons, but what she didn’t realize was there wasn’t much of anything she could do to get on my nerves.

I glanced down at the gas gauge. “We’re going to have to stop soon,” I warned her.