a male bird strutting his colorful plumage. My body wasn’t bad, though I carried extra weight in trunk and saddlebag. I’d long since come to terms with the fact that I didn’t attract looks from across a crowded room. In fact, I was pretty used to being the grenade a wingman would fall on in order to give his buddy a shot at my hot friend.
But on a global scale, problems like that were minuscule, and I was smiling when I found Max waiting with my favorite breakfast sandwich. Pretending to check it over, I sat down across the table from him. “Hmm. Bacon. Egg. Cheese. This passes inspection.”
“Glad to hear it. I didn’t know if you wanted coffee or juice so I got both.”
“Then I’ll drink both. How’re you holding up?”
“You make me sound decrepit. We haven’t been riding that long.”
Dropping my voice, I leaned forward, as if I was about to whisper a dirty secret. Max met me halfway. “I meant emotionally.”
“Oh. Then I’m wrecked.” The flat tone belied the truth I glimpsed in his eyes. “I don’t even know if my brother will talk to me.”
“What happened?”
“You want my sad life story in a travel plaza?”
Put that way, it sounded wrong, but I couldn’t deny my curiosity. So I ate my breakfast sandwich and followed him back outside, where I stretched for, like, five minutes. Max did the same, then we continued the trip. Though he was considerate and stopped every two hours so I could move around, by the time we hit the middle of Pennsylvania I was ready to call it quits. I’d have paid big money for a hot tub, but we stopped at an interstate motel, no Jacuzzis to be had, and I’d rather eat a bug than risk a yeast infection by soaking in a strange bathtub.
Max offered to spring for my room, but it seemed stupid for him to pay double. “Just get one with two beds. It’s not a big deal.”
“Thanks. I’m doing this on a shoestring budget.”
I could’ve told him that I had plenty of money and a decent limit on my plastic, but I suspected he’d be offended. It was a point of pride for Max to pay my way since he’d asked me along for reasons I didn’t entirely understand. Arms crossed, I waited by the motorcycle while he went into the office, and when he came out, he had the room keys.
“Come on, we’re around back.”
Climbing on the bike made me wince, so I could only imagine how I’d feel tomorrow. Worth it for a friend, I told myself. Max parked and handed me the keycards.
“Go on up, I’ll bring dinner. Are you in the mood for anything in particular?”
I shook my head. “Get my backpack? I’ll shower while you’re gone.”
“Good idea.”
“Some women might find that offensive, Cooper.”
“You know what I mean.”
Grinning, I took my bag and jogged stiffly up the rusted external steps. This place was a step down from a Red Roof Inn, and the room was about as depressing as I expected: dated decor in overly bright hues with hutch, tiny dining set and grubby, striped arm chair. But at least there was a coffeepot and a relatively new TV. Usually the smell gave away the worst places, and this only gave off a musty scent, like a room that had been closed up too long. The windows didn’t open so I turned on the air conditioner, which banged to the point that I imagined tiny gnomes inside the radiator with wee hammers. The added ventilation helped, though, and I got my pajamas, then went into the bathroom.
Water pressure was decent, and I took my time scrubbing off the road dust. By the time I came out, drying my hair on a scratchy towel, Max had pizza and beer waiting at the chipped table. He’d seen my pj’s countless times before, so he didn’t blink as I came over to get a slice of extra cheese, extra mushrooms and peppers.
“No meat?” I asked.
“Seems safer this way since we’re traveling tomorrow.”
I grinned. “Your forethought is both impressive and disturbing.”
The pizza wasn’t bad for a random dive, certainly not the worst, though it didn’t compare to the deep-dish Chicago-style I’d grown up on. After dinner, I propped up on my bed and checked my phone for the first time all day. I had a text from Angus and two from my mother. Angus had just replied with Finally eloped with Max, huh? Name your firstborn after me. Boy, girl or other, doesn’t matter. Make good choices! Sighing, I read the maternal messages next.
Ma, text one: Why aren’t you picking up?
Ma, text two: Where are you? I tried the house phone. Are you avoiding me?
Yes. That’s the only reason I wouldn’t answer.
She hadn’t wanted me to move out of the dorms until I told her my roommate was into illegal drugs. Then she’d supported the apartment idea wholeheartedly. Since she regarded spontaneity as her nemesis, she’d be pissed about this trip. I could hear her already: Vacations should be planned, Courtney. You can’t just take off this way.
I typed back, I’m hanging out with a friend. What’s up? That was sort of true, right?
“Everything okay?”
“Hmm?”
“You look pissed.”
“It’s just my mother, trying to track my movements. I’m surprised she hasn’t chipped me like a Chihuahua. Though if she has, you’ll probably be arrested for kidnapping.” I smirked, rubbing the back of my neck as if searching for parental hardware.
He paused with a slice halfway to his mouth. “You know, that sounds like it sucks, but I also wonder what it would be like to have a parent so...invested.”
“Your mother’s not around?”
“She died when I was five, having my brother. Amniotic fluid embolism. I was fourteen before I even knew what that meant.”
I still don’t. Mentally I made a note to look it up on Google ASAP. “So your brother’s sixteen? What’s his name?”
Max nodded. “Michael, but everyone calls him Mickey. Or...they did. I haven’t seen him since my dad kicked me out.”
“Wait, what?” I figured he’d just put up with a shitty home life until he got accepted at Mount Albion, and then he was all Sayonara, suckers.
“Yeah. I’ve been on my own since I was sixteen.”
“Did things get worse with your dad?” I asked.
“You could say that,” Max said quietly. “That was when I put my brother in a wheelchair for life.”
So many questions ricocheted around my brain, but Max’s shoulders were pulled up
