Page 55 of Stops Along the Way
“It’s a win-win situation here,” she interrupts. “Really, what’s the alternative?”
I’m not sure, and can’t come up with a retort quickly enough, because Declan is returning to the picnic table, carrying his backpack in hand by a single strap, his shoulders slumped, and he doesn’t seem enthusiastic about this, either.
Wait, why is Declan upset about this? Does he not want to spend more time with me? Ugh, this is so frustrating.
Grady jogs behind him to catch up, handing over a plastic grocery bag of snacks. “Did you text—”
Declan grits his teeth. “Yeah, I texted Mom. Soyouhave to text Dad.”
Letting Declan’s irritation bounce off him, Grady nods and turns to me. “All good?” he asks, still with that ridiculous smile that right now I’m finding exceptionally patronizing.
Do I really have any choice here? Declan’s eyes are wide, deferring to me.
“I mean, it’s fine,” I say, trying to seem happy enough for Declan to understand I’m glad to spend more time with him but mad enough for my sister to know I’m annoyed she’s ditching me again.
“Just saving time,” Amelia says in a joking tone, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m kind of jealous that I don’t get to roller-skate.” I roll my eyes and add a juvenile huff so that she gets the audio effect. “Anyway, the keys are in the shop, and Sam has your number, but you should probably check back in like an hour to see if they finished up early.”
“Sure.” I lean against the picnic table as Declan sits back down on the bench.
“Are we really roller-skating?” he asks as our siblings wave goodbye and walk across the lot. “I’d rather not.”
I wouldn’t mind skating, but I won’t drag him onto the rink. “Hanging out in air-conditioning seems better than staying here, at least.”
“Sure.” He stands again.
Grady climbs into the SUV, but Amelia runs back toward the auto shop. “Almost forgot my driving glasses!” She fetches the case from our car, gives another round of goodbyes, then leaves with Grady, abandoning Declan and me to fend for ourselves here in Iowa.
“You know, if they asked us first, we probably would’ve been cool with them wanting to drive ahead separately,” I admit to Declan, reaching out to grab hold of his hand. “But they didn’t even bother to consult with us. And then, when I try to tell her why that bothers me, she just brushes it off like she knows best. Like, doesn’t what I’m feeling matter at all?”
“Yeah,” he says, but his hand feels tense in my grasp, so I intertwine our fingers and spin myself in toward his chest,tilting my chin up with what I hope is a flirty look. He gives a half smile down at me.
“We can make the best of it, though?” I ask.
He doesn’t say anything but plants a sweet kiss on my forehead that makes all my concerns melt away.
Chapter Sixteen
Directly inside the building is a small party room on the right, with dark carpet patterned with neon concentric circles and squiggles, and every inch of wall space occupied by arcade games. There are two girls who are laser focused on the claw machine in the corner, clearly attempting to win a very specific stuffed penguin that’s in the bottom corner and should be an easy grab, but they stomp their feet as it slips through their metal grasp.
Other than those children and a worker behind the rentals desk, the building is empty on this Thursday afternoon. There are posters on the wall advertising upcoming themed events—including a singles night—so I guess this place stays in business, despite feeling and looking like a relic from the past.
The primary attraction is obviously the rink itself, a large oval of polished wooden floor encased by a wall about four feet tall. There’s a disco ball hanging directly in the center, and other colorful flashing lights moving around to shine across the room.
“Should we grab something to eat?” Declan asks, pointing to the counter. “If we’re not skating, we should probably still spend money somehow.”
I nod toward his backpack, where he stashed away the grocery bag from Grady. “Even though we have all those snacks?”
We take another step toward the menu board. “Maybe nachos?” he suggests.
“Sure.”
He pays, and the worker slides a small paper tray of chips across the counter, nodding toward the cheese dispenser next to the napkins, utensils, and straws. Declan chuckles as he drizzles the orange goo atop.
We choose a table, and I climb onto the tall chair, finding myself mesmerized by the light show on the empty rink. It’s easy to imagine this place in its heyday, with plenty of skaters rolling around.
“I haven’t skated in years.” I wave my hand, turning down the nachos as Declan holds the bowl out to me. “Amelia and I used to roller-skate up and down the sidewalk in front of our house.”
“That sounds fun. I was more into bikes.”
