She pulled her leg up to the bed and began playing with the thread again. “How did it happen?” She was surprised she wanted to know so badly. Surprised that after all these years, she’d healed enough to care.
“Let’s see…” He looked up to the ceiling, as if thinking about the memory. “It was the end of fall semester my junior year. We were on the road in Colorado and it was raining. I remember calling the play, lining up on the field, calling for the snap of the ball, and that’s about it. The next thing I remember was waking up in the dark hospital room. My arm was in some kind of traction device, and I had tubes coming out of everywhere.”
He glanced over at her and shrugged. “That was the last time I played for Texas U. I lost my scholarship, had to start over.”
Her brow furrowed, and she glanced down to his shoulder again, but now her chest was tight, and she had to clear her throat to hold back tears. “How did you manage? Having something you loved ripped away from you like that?”
He met her eyes, almost as though the question shocked him. “It was easier for me than it was for my dad, let’s put it that way.”
She closed her eyes briefly, because his answer hit way too close to home. Tristan was the pride and joy of his father… just as she was for her parents, being the only child. Personal failures felt much less personal, and so much heavier because of letting them down. She swallowed back emotion but nodded.
They were both quite a good while, before he glanced down at her iPod that lay in the middle of the bed. He hesitated for only a moment before picking it up and turning toward her. “What are you listening to?”
It was the first time he’d shown any interest in her books, and she pulled in a deep sigh before answering. “Nothing you’d be interested in.”
“Try me.”
She plucked the iPod from his hand and placed it on the nightstand. “The Princess Bride.”
A grin teased at his lips. “A fairy tale.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, I like fairy tales.”
She grinned. “Oh yeah, what’s your favorite?”
He leaned back on his elbows and looked up the the ceiling. “Hmmm…I would have to say, Beauty and the Beast.”
“Really?” She bit her lower lip and wrinkled her nose with disbelief.
“Yeah, it’s relatable.”
“Why, because you’re the beauty?”
He frowned, shaking his head as he rose to his feet. He handed her the empty glass. “The opposite actually.”
She tilted her head, but remained quiet.
He turned toward the door, before she could recover enough to respond, but glanced back over his shoulder, almost as an afterthought. “Thank you for the Motrin. I feel much better.”
She stood up, realizing she didn’t really want him to go. But she followed him to the door, where he quickly exited, but turned one last time around.
“See you in the morning, Samantha.”
She nodded, leaning her head against the doorframe. “See ya.”
It was past four in the afternoon when they stopped for gas in Chippewa, Nebraska. The weather was cold and foggy, but a small cafe was just across the road, promising the best split pea soup in town. Samantha climbed out of the Mustang, trying to shake the tingles from her legs where they’d fallen asleep, but it wasn’t quite working. She found herself holding onto the side of the car to catch her balance.
Even though she still had enough snacks to keep a small football team satisfied for a weekend, she was excited for the excuse to get out of the car for a while. To warm her body from the inside out with a hot cup of soup.
Tristan got out of the car and stretched his arms above his head—which lifted his hoodie just enough to make his stomach visible. “I’ll fill up,” he yawned. “Why don’t you go get us a table?”
Samantha raised her eyes, hoping he hadn’t caught her staring. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” She grabbed hold of her bag from the front seat, then proceeded to limp-walk on pins and needles across the street.
They’d been on the road for over six hours. Six hours of talking about nothing—and about all the things that had been going on in their lives over the past few years. She never thought she’d have five words to say to Tristan after their night together, yet talking to him now came remarkably easy. He listened, which surprised her. Really listened, in a way that reminded her of Renee. She liked that. Liked how he made what she was saying important enough to pay attention to.
She pushed open the door to the cafe, where a large chalkboard told her to seat herself. A glance around the restaurant revealed a bar with classic red and chrome bar stools, and booths that had mini jukeboxes in the middle of each one.
Opting for a booth, she settled herself into the closest one that had a nice view of the street. A server pushed through the double doors a moment later and came over to say hello. Her hair was red, done up in a style that reminded Samantha of I Love Lucy, and her pink pinafore only added to the ensemble. She was young and pretty though, and had a sweetness about her that made Samantha smile.
“Howdy,” the girl said, as she leaned against the booth. “Welcome to Peggy’s Cafe. Best split pea soup in Chippewa.”
Samantha smiled, knowing this was the only restaurant in Chippewa, but she kept that bit of info to herself. “Thank you. It’s nice to be off the road and stretching my legs for a bit.”
The server grinned, set two menus on the table and tilted her head. “I’m guessing you folks aren’t from ’round here.”
Samantha opened her menu, perplexed by the fact the server knew she wasn’t alone and glanced over all the full color images of sandwiches, soups and salads. “California,” she answered.
“Ooooh… I’ve been there once. To Malibu. I’d give my right tit just to go back for a weekend and get out of this cold.” She sighed and took her tablet from the pocket. “Where y’all headed? You and that hot piece of somethin’ you have ’cross the street.”
Samantha glanced out the window, slightly shocked by the girl’s choice of words, and found Tristan in the parking lot. He was the only person she could have been talking about, and Samantha nearly choked at the realization. “Are you talking about Tristan?” she asked, turning quickly around.
“Well I ain’t talkin’ ’bout Jesus, sweetheart. ’Course I’m talking about him, though I have to admit, I am right jealous.”
“Oh. Well, no need to be jealous. He’s not mine.” She adjusted in her seat then glanced back at the menu. “We’re only driving together.”
“Bullshit.” The server coughed, then sat quickly sat in the seat across from her. “I mean, I don’t mean to pry—and my lady bits just tingled at the possibility of him being single, but no man looks at a woman like that, without somethin’ goin’ on.”
Samantha followed the girl’s line of vision, and found Tristan standing at the gas pump, filling the Mustang with fuel—and looking directly at her.
She turned away.
“See.” The girl laughed. But her eyebrows rose as though she’d proven her point.
Samantha shook her head, resisting the urge to look again. “What kind of cheese do you use on your sandwiches?” she asked instead, hoping the change in subject wouldn’t go unnoticed.
“Wisconsin cheddar,” the server answered quickly, without skipping a beat. “So what’s your story? If he’s not yours, why are you driving alone together all the way from Cali?”
Samantha cleared her throat, tempted to call the manager and complain about this nosey server, but for some reason she felt the need to set her straight. “My best friend is getting married,” she stated. “That hot piece of something is her brother.”
The girl raised her brows in an all-knowing sort of way and laughed. “Well shoot! This trip gets juicier and juicer.”
Samantha slapping the menu down to the table. “No. It’s not like that. I have a boyfriend.”
“Ho-le-shit!” the girl called. “And he let you drive cross country with him?”