Chapter 8: The Road Ahead

Three days before Memorial Day, Caleb came back to Maple Heights. When he found me at the Thompsons’ house, I’d just finished talking with Derek about when I’d go back up north.

The house was full of the smell of charcoal and apple blossoms. You could hear the sizzle of burgers on the grill and the distant thump of a Little League game at the park—the annual Memorial Day barbecue preparations in full swing. Derek sprawled in a kitchen chair, tracing routes on a faded road map. We spoke in low voices, excitement and nerves mingling in the air.

Even though Mrs. Thompson had agreed to let me leave, she still worried about me traveling alone, so she asked Derek to drive me.

She’d fussed over the plan for days—packing snacks, double-checking the spare tire in Derek’s truck, slipping me an extra twenty “just in case.” Her worry felt like love, and I tried not to roll my eyes when she hugged me a little too tight.

In May, the apple blossoms were in full bloom. Derek spread a map out on the kitchen table, his voice full of anticipation:

“If we leave right after the barbecue, we can reach Sunset Hill before dark. If we’re lucky, we might catch a blazing sunset.”

His finger traced the winding road on the map. I imagined the highway stretching out before us, windows rolled down, country music on the radio. The thought of seeing Sunset Hill—the best view for miles—filled me with hope.

Suddenly, I remembered coming back to Maple Heights as a kid with my parents. Dad carried me in his arms as we rode in the old pickup. Mom, in the passenger seat, pulled back the curtain to look at us, pretending to be annoyed. Behind us, the rolling hills and clouds glowed red in the setting sun.

The memory rushed in, sharp and sweet. I could almost hear my dad’s laugh, feel the rough fabric of his shirt against my cheek. Mom would shake her head, but her eyes would be soft, full of love. That sunset felt like a promise—one I’d been waiting to fulfill ever since.

I nodded, my eyes suddenly stinging with tears:

“Then let’s leave at three-thirty.”

I blinked hard, fighting the tears. Derek squeezed my hand, understanding without words. For the first time in ages, three-thirty felt like the start of something new, not just an hour on the clock.

Turning, I saw Caleb—who should still have been upstate—standing at the entrance to the kitchen. His brows were drawn together in anger as he stared at me:

He looked out of place in the warm, busy kitchen—hair still damp from the rain, tension radiating from every line of his body. The room seemed to shrink, the noise fading as our eyes met.

“What do you mean, ‘three-thirty’?”

His voice cut through the air, sharp as a snapped branch. He searched my face for answers, but I looked away, unwilling to let him see the hurt still lingering.

I looked down and lied, casual as anything:

“Derek’s leaving in a few days. I’m going to see him off.”

I forced a smile, letting the lie settle between us. It wasn’t the truth, not really, but it was easier than admitting I was finally ready to leave—and that Caleb was no longer the reason I’d stay. I kept my gaze steady, waiting to see what he’d do next, the future stretching out before me like the open road beyond Maple Heights. Whatever happened next, it wouldn’t be the same old story. For the first time, I was the one holding the map.