Page 25 of A Thousand Little Goodbyes

“Well, I have this aunt—agreat-aunt, really—but she lives all the way in Chicago.” She glanced up again, a not-unhopeful gleam in her eyes. “You guys are on a road trip, right? Are you heading that way?”

The Windy City hadn’t been on their list of places to visit, but it wasn’t so far off the beaten path to make it an impossibility. It was also one of the many places Chrissie had never been before. Scarlett had lived there for a few years—fallen in love there, naturally—but that could be said of at least a dozen different global destinations. Something about big cities always put stars in her eyes and glitter in her pants.

“We are now.” Chrissie did a quick mental calculation. “Howmuch time do we have before they come looking for you?”

“I don’t know. An hour? Two hours?” She shrugged in a way that both looked and felt wrong. “I didn’t take anything valuable when I left, I swear. Just some stuff that belonged to my mom. My dad and stepmom don’t even want it. Or me. They’re just mad because my running away made them look bad in front of their friends.”

“I’m ready to go whenever you are,” Scarlett said. “Lead the way, oh captain.”

Chrissie shot her friend a harassed look. For someone who had caused all this drama in the first place, she was being surprisingly blasé about it. “You could show a little remorse, you know.”

“Why? This is exactly what you wanted. A chance to leap to the rescue.” Scarlett paused, eyeing her carefully. “Aren’t you even going to ask what River stole? Or why she left home in the first place?”

Chrissie was already shoving her clothes and toiletries into her bag by this point, but she had an answer ready to go. Not only did she understand what it was like to live with parents who cared only about the appearance of things, but the thought of her own daughter being in a similar situation—alone in the world and terrified half to death, in trouble of any kind, even that of her own making—was enough to make her throw caution off the nearest cliff.

“No,” she said frankly. “None of that matters.”

“Then there you go. What good would my feeling guilty do?”

Aware that River was watching this exchange in silent discomfort—and creeping toward the door in a way that presaged flight—Chrissie did her best to calm the girl.

“It’s fine, River. I don’t care what you did or why you did it. If you say you’re in trouble and that there’s a great-aunt in Chicago willing to help you out of it, that’s enough for me.”

“Th-thank you,” the girl stammered in a subdued tone.

“We should all be so lucky,” Scarlett muttered in an even moresubdued one.

That was the end of the line as far as Chrissie was concerned. She wasn’t sure what was coming over her lately, but something about spending all this time with Scarlett was bringing her buried girlhood emotions rushing to the surface.

“Enough, Scarlett,” she snapped. “Have you forgotten what it’s like to be that age? To have the safety net pulled out from under you and be thrust into the world without any kind of preparation?”

Chrissie stared at her friend, daring her to argue. Neither one of them could forget that particular summer of their adolescence, when life and death had become so intertwined that the two were forever linked inside her heart.

“I know you think I’m a pushover, and that I’m just a sitting duck for everyone to take advantage of, but this is what I do,” Chrissie said. “When a fellow human being asks for my help, I give it. When they say they’re in need, I take them at their word. I accept what the world gives me and do my best to bear it without complaint. Maybe that makes me weak or silly, and maybe I sometimes end up doing more harm than good, but it’s the one thing—theonly thing—I have. You know that better than anyone.”

The silence in the room suddenly felt so heavy that it seemed she was going to be asked to bearthat, as well. But even though Chrissie could feel her muscles thrumming with new energy, Scarlett did what she always did in situations like these.

She smiled.

“You’re right, of course. You always are.” Scarlett winked at River as though all of this was no more than a show for her entertainment. “You should thank your lucky stars, kid. The day Christina Thomas walked into your salon will end up being the best one of your life. You can trust me on this one.”

And that was it. With an energy that matched her own, Scarlettswept through the room, packing up their things and making sure to look inside drawers and under the bed so they didn’t forget anything. Within ten minutes, they were on the road and on their way.

“Is it okay if I sleep a little?” River asked from the back seat of the RAV4, where she sat with her battered yellow suitcase tucked carefully between her knees. “I haven’t gone to bed yet, so I’m beat.”

“You sleep as long and as hard as you want,” Chrissie said from behind the wheel. She cast a sidelong look at Scarlett, whom she also suspected of not getting a single wink. It wouldn’t be the first time. Many a childhood sleepover had turned into a horror show when she’d woken up to find Scarlett sitting upright, watching over her with an intensity usually reserved for serial killers and women who liked to take romance writers hostage in the woods. “In fact, I think you both should.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Scarlett said, the same way she had as a child. “For now, let’s just enjoy the ride.”

* * *

By the time they reached the Idaho-Wyoming border, Scarlett and River were the best of friends.

“I don’t care what you say, Chrissie. We’re stopping at Cokeville for lunch, and I won’t take no for an answer.” Scarlett glanced over her shoulder at River with a grin that could only be called conspiratorial. “The two of us made a rule before we started. We have to stop at every weird piece of Americana we come across on the road, and weespeciallyhave to stop if a town has a hilarious name. Cokeville demands its due.”

Chrissie fought the urge to roll her eyes—and to release the fiftieth yawn that had overtaken her in the past hour. “Fine. We should probably switch drivers anyway. I don’t understand how you aren’t dead in your seat.”

“I can take the next shift,” River offered. When Chrissie’s responseto this was to lurch on the brakes, she added, “I’m a good driver, I promise. My dad used to take me out on his combine back when I could barely walk. I even drove one during the summer in middle school. They let you do that on farms, you know. It’s one of the few places where they love child labor.”