CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Slow and steady, the Jeep crawls over a particularly rough and rocky part of the road. We’re just about to start climbing the canyon. I feel like I’ve pretty much mastered this four-wheeling thing, and I’m wondering why the boys make it sound so complicated, when my back left tire starts wobbling in my rearview mirror.
I slow to a crawl—an impressive thing to do when you’re already going under five miles per hour—and watch in horror as the tire deflates and hangs loosely around the wheel.
“What was that?” Caleb asks, noticing the Jeep slowly tilting.
I growl and smack my hand against the steering wheel. Honestly, can one more thing go wrong today?
“Flat tire,” I say, putting the Jeep in park and getting out to inspect the damage.
Yep. Flat.
I cross my arms and scowl at it until Landon comes to my side. The thing is, I don’t actually know how to change it. Paige does—her brothers taught her when she was twelve. Uncle Mark tried to show me too, and I paid attention—I really did—but he might as well have been talking Greek.
Maybe this four-wheel thing isn’t for me after all.
Landon looks like his lack of sleep is catching up to him in a big way. He’s dead on his feet.
“At least you have a spare,” Landon points out, already moving for it.
“Do you know how to change it?”
Landon nods and gets to work. I dig out the lug wrench, remembering that was a vital part of the whole operation.
It doesn’t take Landon long to jack up the Jeep and remove what’s left of the old tire.
Caleb watches with avid interest and asks me, “Why do you think it went flat?”
“I don’t know,” I answer, not really up to speculating at the moment.
“Was it rock?”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe there was a rusty nail in the road—like something from an old wagon!”
“I don’t know.”
Landon tightens the lug nuts one by one, slowly releases the jack…and then he curses.
“Mom says you’re not supposed to say that,” Caleb so helpfully announces.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, scooting Caleb back before Landon completely loses it.
Landon lies back on the hard, rocky ground. His arm is flung over his eyes. “Your spare’s flat.”
“How is that possible?” I demand. “It’s just been on the back of the Jeep. I haven’t used it even once.”
“It happens. You have to check them when you check the rest of your tires.”
I’m about to tell him that I don’t check any of my tires, but then I realize that’s probably what got us in this predicament to begin with, and I decide it’s best to keep my mouth shut.
“Now what?” I ask.
He flings his arm aside so he can look at me. “Now we hike to the top of the road and see if we can still get cell signal up there.
Hike up the canyon.
It’s going to take us hours. We haven’t had nearly enough sleep for this.
But we don’t have a choice.
We grab the rest of the water out of the Jeep, and each of us shoves a few energy bars in our pockets. George hops out of the back, and up the road we go.
Caleb, who’s just as tired and crabby as we are, loses wind after the first fifteen minutes.
“Are we near the top?” he asks.
“No,” Landon answers.
“When will we reach the top?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can I wait in the Jeep?”
“No,” Landon and I say together.
He pouts and whines until Landon reminds him it’s his fault we’re out here in the first place. After that, he’s pretty quiet.
George trots back and forth, staying close. Every few minutes, we look at our phones.
Pass a boulder…no signal.
Pass a prickly weed growing in the middle of the road…no signal.
Round a bend…no signal.
We stop for water often, and we eat another bar at midday. It wouldn’t really be that bad of a hike if we’d just gotten some sleep last night. But in this condition, it might as well be Everest.
Finally, near the top, Landon lets out a happy groan. “Two bars,” he says triumphantly as he raises his phone into the air.
Then he stumbles toward a boulder at the side of the trail, sits down with another groan, and dials his dad. Two seconds later, he says, “We found him.”
The message is relayed, and I can hear the happy cry on the other end.
“But we’re in the canyon below Prospector’s Demise, and we have a flat.” Landon pauses. “No, the spare is flat too.”
He nods a few times, and then he hangs up.
“Well?” I ask.
“They’re coming for us.”
I sit on the rock beside him and let my head fall on his shoulder. Caleb lies on the ground, which is a mistake because George decides he must investigate. Caleb yelps as the dog hangs his jowly face over Caleb’s eyes. Landon laughs and wraps his arm around my back, leaning on me as much as I’m leaning on him. We stay like this, exhausted, for several minutes before we begin the trek back to the Jeep.
Luckily, it’s a lot easier to go down the trail than up.
Caleb has gotten his second wind, and he hurries on ahead of us, racing George to the bottom.
“We haven’t really talked about me leaving,” Landon says quietly, his eyes on the trail.
I glance at him. “I’m not sure what there is to say.”
I don’t want to talk about it—I don’t even want to think about it. I want to pretend it’s not happening and live in the moment.
“You have another year of school,” he says.
I nod.
“And I want to take a year to continue traveling with my family. But next year, we could pick a college. Go together.”
“I can’t.” I keep my eyes on Caleb and George.
“Why?”
“You know why. They need me here. How will they run the campground without me?” Again, I’m reminded of what I saw in the living room this morning, and for a moment, I think Mom can just go ahead and fend for herself. But that’s not right either.
Landon sets his hand on my arm, pulling me to a stop. “They could hire someone to come in and help.”
“No one knows this place like I do,” I argue. “And this was my parent’s dream when my dad was alive—I’m not going to abandon it.”
“But what’s your dream, Lacey? What do you want out of life?”
I refuse to answer because I don’t know. My future’s always held the same thing—Gray Jay, the campground, our mountains. Even thinking of something else feels like betraying my family. Especially my dad.
Landon searches my face, growing frustrated. “You told me when we first met that you’ve never seen the beach—that more than anything, you want to go to the ocean.”
“I do,” I say. “You just…don’t understand. You can’t understand. Your family travels everywhere, sees everything, but you have no roots. You abandoned your roots. Obviously, they don’t mean as much to you as they do to me.”
We shouldn’t be having this discussion right now. We’re tired, we’re hungry, and the last twenty-four hours have been filled with nothing but worry and stress.
But we are discussing it, and I don’t know how to get off this train before we crash.
“So, you’re never going to go anywhere or do anything? You’re just going to stay here, stagnant, even though it’s not what you want?”
He doesn’t necessarily say it harshly, but the words still sting.
“I don’t know, all right?” I say, whirling toward him. “But for now, yes, I’m here. For the foreseeable future, yes, I’m here. I don’t know what you want me to say.”
He studies me for several moments, and then he deflates.
“This was a mistake,” I finally mutter under my breath.
I don’t really mean it—but I’m tired and on-edge. And really, really mad. The problem is, I don’t know who I’m mad at. I’m taking it out on Landon, but he’s not the problem. I’d like to say Mom and Uncle Mark are the problem, but that’s not quite right either.
Perhaps I’m mad at myself, at the fact that Landon’s right. I’m never going to go anywhere or do anything. For the rest of my life, I’m going to live in the campground office, watching happy families come and then leave for their next adventure. And that thought is really, truly depressing.
But I don’t know how to fix it.
“Maybe it was,” he says softly, and I stiffen.
He wasn’t supposed to agree.
So now what?
I can’t take it back, tell him I’m sorry for the hasty, heated words—not when he feels that way.
We finally reach the Jeep and Caleb crawls in the backseat and promptly falls asleep. Landon and I sit side by side on a rock ledge near the road. Neither of us speaks as we wait for someone to come rescue us.
Eventually, the Calvary comes. Lots of Calvary.
We’re surrounded by over a dozen happy, happy people. Landon’s mom hugs me, thanking me for helping find her son. Caleb wakes up, and she cries grateful tears while she scolds him.
Uncle Mark stays to fix the Jeep, and I catch a ride back to the campground with Paige’s brother. I glance at Landon before I slip into the passenger seat of Trenton’s truck. He turns to me and jabs his hands in his pockets. He looks as miserable as I feel. Still, neither of us speaks.
After a moment, I get in the truck and close the door.