Summer Sunsets by Maria Rachel Hooley Read Free Book Online Page B

about to change, and I can’t blame her.
    “ Are you all packed?” I ask,
looking at her car, which appears to be stuffed with all her
college belongings.
    She, too, glances over at
the vehicle before nodding slowly. “Yeah. I think it’s all in
there. What about you?”
    I give her a thumbs-up
gesture. “I’m ready, too.”
    “ Then what are we waiting
for?” She settles her hands on her hips playfully, and I
shrug.
    “ I was waiting on you,” I
tell her. I’m waiting on her in more ways than one, but I’m
definitely not going to say that.
    “ Okay, I’ll follow you. Just
remember that I need to stop for some gas, okay?”
    “ Sure. I’ll get us out of
traffic and find a place.” Both of us head to our vehicles, and I
give the house one last look, wondering when I’ll come back here.
It’s one of my favorite places in the world, maybe because the
memories I have of Skye here are safe and happy. Who
knows?
    At any rate, I pull out and
check to make sure Skye is following. Then I start through town,
heading toward Illinois and home. I keep my cell in the seat, just
in case. My fingers touch it before moving on to the radio to break
the silence flowering in the cab of the truck. While I like
introspection, right now I really just want something to distract
me; otherwise, all I’ll do is think about the ring I want to give
Skye. I keep telling myself that it is a matter of timing feeling
all wrong. Trouble is, I’m not sure when it’s going to feel any
differently. You’d think it’d would be easy to tell my best friend
I’m so in love with her I want to spend the rest of my life with
her. Yet unless you know Skye, you have no clue just how easy that
isn’t.
    The first gas station we
come to after most of the traffic has thinned out is half gas
station and half grocery store, neither side of which is especially
clean or appealing. I look in my rear-view mirror, wondering what
Skye will say. I don’t know how low she is on gas, so I tap my turn
signal and lurch into the parking lot, figuring if she really
objects to this place we can go somewhere else.
    I look at my own gas gauge.
I could probably use a little, too, since it’s going to take more
than just this tank to get us home—it’s the curse of not driving
something more gas-efficient. I pull through the line to the second
pump so Skye can get to the first one. Getting out of the truck, I
straighten my shirt and look at her as we go inside to
pay.
    “ I’ve got to use the
restroom,” she says, nodding to where a “Restrooms” sign hangs from
the ceiling.
    “ I’m going to get something
to drink so I’ll wait for you,” I tell her, heading to the
refrigerator section. I’m thinking bottled water because a lot of
times the soda has a dirty taste if it’s been sitting on the shelf
too long, and considering how unappealing this place looks from the
outside, I’m willing to bet a lot of customers drive right past.
The whole judging-a-book-by-its-cover thing. Now I’m inside, I can
honestly say that if this were a book, I think it would need lots
of help.
    I fiddle by the drinks,
thinking that if I waste enough time Skye will emerge from the
hallway leading out from the bathroom, but the storekeeper eyes me,
worried probably because I’m so tall and he’s not sure I’m not
going to rob the place blind. On the contrary, I’m not taking
anything more from here than the bottled water in my hand. I make
it two so Skye has something to drink on the road.
    Out of the corner of my
eye, I see the outline of a guy standing in the hallway. I catch a
glimpse of Skye, her back plastered against the wall as the guy
leans towards her, way too close. I start to head that direction
when I hear the guy at the register yell, “Hey, you can’t take
those back there.”
    Whirling, I shoot him a
glare and smack the two bottles on the shelf. I arch an eyebrow,
daring him to say something else. Instead, he rings up a biker in
black leather. When I step