The second he guided us - very carefully and very cautiously and with a few choice words for the Ohio drivers flying past us in the left lane at eighty five miles an hour - onto Route 70 eastbound, I had a sudden, stomach clenching burst of terror.

But it settled quickly. There were a whole bunch of places to the east of Columbus that we might be heading to. If I had to guess, I'd think Niall was probably taking us to Falling Water. He seemed like the kind of person to appreciate Frank Lloyd Wright's architecture. I'd been there once, for a field trip in high school. It was quite a distance, maybe four hours from where we were now, but that should hardly bother two touring musicians on the road together, right?

I reached over and massaged his neck. "Your knuckles are white," I told him.

He exhaled through his teeth. "Bloody Christ, these people are maniacs."

"Do you get to drive much?"

He glanced at me guiltily and his shoulders slumped a little. "Actually, if I'm being honest -"

"Which you always are."

"Right, well. I let my license lapse last year." He hunched his shoulders like he was trying to hide.

I shook my head. "Jesus, Niall. And you insisted on driving, huh?"

"I'll be careful," he promised. "I've gotta be way more cautious because of it, right?"

I gaped at him for a second. "You know. Most rock stars stick it to the man by throwing TVs off hotel roofs," I laughed, shaking my head. "Niall Penrose here drives with an expired license."

"There's your bloody cheek again. I swear, I will pull this car right over and leave you here," he warned, a smile tugging at the corner of his too serious mouth. "Right here in -" He squinted at a road sign. "Buckeye Lake." His smiled widened to astonishment. "Christ, now that's a proper American name, yeah? Buckeye Lake, I fucking love it."

"You're a complete dork, you know that?"

"Thought I was more of a nerd," he shrugged. "That's a shame. Wait, which is better?"

"I don't know and I don't care." I leaned against his shoulder, too happy to even speak anymore. "You're my guy, is what you are."

"You're bloody right I am," he said emphatically, and nudged the accelerator down a touch more. "Oy, you see that? I'm driving like an Ohio-ite now."

"Ohioan."

"You're shitting me."

"I'm not."

"There are entirely too many vowels in that word," he grumbled.

"I'm turning the music on," I complained. "You drive like a little old lady going to church."

"Just please don't play anything of ours though, yeah? I'm so sick of my own playing I could die."

I nodded and scrolled through his phone until I found an old Rolling Stones tune I wasn't familiar with.

"Ah, 'Torn and Frayed,' good choice," Niall said, settling back in his seat and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the bass parts.

The trees sped by as I listened to Mick Jagger sing about the frayed man and his band playing bordellos and ballrooms and having no home to call his own, and I found myself suddenly blinking back tears. "New song," I said, scrolling through his music. "You like PJ Harvey?" I asked, surprised.

"She's a fellow countryman. Put on 'Man Size,'" he asked.

I nodded and leaned back to listen to the raw guttural song about a woman fantasizing about being a man. "One of the guys," I murmured, looking out the window.

We fell quiet, listening to song after song on Niall's phone as I watched the scenery roll by.

The horror was slow, as I look out onto countryside that was becoming more and more familiar. But I still couldn't believe, refused to believe that this was where we were headed.

It wasn't until I saw the rising hulk of the abandoned coal breaker hunkered on the side of the mountain that I knew for certain where we were..We were coming at it from an odd angle, but I would never in a million years mistake that haunted shape. It stood poised like a spider over the valley, like it wanted to catch us all in its web. I swallowed back bile that suddenly flooded my mouth. "You're taking me to Claybrook?"

His face was still shining with eagerness, happy with the anticipation of doing something nice for me, and I loved him and hated him in equal measure in that moment. Because how could he mean so well and yet do something so horridly, wretchedly wrong?

"I wanted to see your home. I thought you might want to show me." He looked at me. "I even rented this pickup so we could lie in the back and look at the stars."

I looked at him, tapping my foot rapidly to keep myself from bolting in panic, just yanking the door open and throwing myself onto the pavement, tucking and rolling like tumbleweed away from this place. "You're way too British to drive a pickup," I told him, teasing, trying to keep myself sane.

"I think I'm doing quite well," he said, allowing a little bit of pompous cockiness to seep into his voice.

I laughed, twisting my fingers nervously. The dark looking spider was lurking above me, but maybe, just maybe we might be able to blow through town with no incident, and with no one recognizing us.

Him, or me.