This Much is True - Tia Louise Page 0,31

catches in my throat, and I can’t say it.

“Then you’ll come home?” She finishes for me.

“Yes.” It’s a quiet reply.

“Good. And I want you to check in when you’re on the road headed back.”

“I’ll text you.”

Sadness like ice water trickles through my chest as I disconnect. My eyes drift back to JR, and I wonder what the heck I’m doing.

This journey was impulsive and crazy. Scout said it was meant to be, but meant to be what? A three-day trip where we shared our darkest moments, escaped a crazy tent revival, talked about our dreams… And kissed?

My eyes slide shut. JR’s kiss shook me to the core. So aggressive and demanding, so much pent up passion and need and hunger. I felt it all the way to my toes.

I want to do it again and again.

“Everybody okay at home?” I blink out of my daydream to find Scout’s eyes on mine in the mirror.

“Oh, yeah. Yars was worried, but it’s all good.”

“I’m sure they miss you.” JR’s voice is quiet.

“Thank you.” I can’t tell if he meant it as a compliment, but I’m going to take it as one.

I give him a smile, and he shifts in his seat, looking away.

That hurts.

“Should be there in two hours,” Scout says. “What’s our first stop?”

“Becky.” It’s a flat reply.

My stomach should not twist unpleasantly when he says his ex-wife’s name. I shouldn’t care that she’s the first stop he wants to make.

But I do.

“Home it is.” His brother nods.

“No…” JR frowns at him. “I want to see my son first.”

“Wait…” Scout cuts his eyes. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” It’s more like a growl.

Scout looks like he swallowed a goldfish, and I lean back against the seat. I’m afraid to hear what he thought his brother knew. It doesn’t look good.

He forces a reassuring smile. “Maybe we should stop for breakfast, stretch our legs.”

“Maybe you’d better tell me what you thought I knew.”

Scout’s chin dips. “She remarried.”

My heart beats faster, but to his credit, John nods as if he doesn’t care.

“I expected as much. Hell, I figured she was seeing somebody when she sent those divorce papers so fast.”

His brother’s expression is somber, almost like he’s waiting.

Home. Scout said home…

John glances at him and then appears to have the same realization I have at the same time. “If she remarried, why is she at our home?”

“I think we should stop and get some coffee.”

“Would you stop acting like an old lady?” JR’s voice is sharp.

His brother’s eyes drop again, and the car slows. We exit at a blue interstate sign that says Prizzy’s Diner. “I bet they have good coffee at this place.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

He keeps going, and in less than two minutes we’re pulling up to a Route 66-style roadside diner. I half expect waitresses in poufy skirts and roller skates to greet us.

Exiting the vehicle fast, JR is right behind his brother.

“Scout?” JR pulls his arm, and Scout meets his eyes.

I climb out slower, watching with wide eyes, not sure if I should wait or follow.

“It’s Dad, man. She married Dad.”

Jr

Air leaves my lungs as memories filter through my mind. How long was this going on? Were they together before I left? Was this why he set me up? It’s a kaleidoscope of moments in my mind, and anger is a ticking time bomb in my chest.

I leave Scout and Hope at the car, and step inside the glass-walled diner.

A petite, brown-skinned woman in a kitten mask greets me. “Welcome to Prizzy’s! Table for three?”

I nod, and she grabs three huge, plastic-covered menus, leading us to a booth in the middle of the restaurant.

Scout and Hope slide into the seat across from me, and a waitress quickly walks up.

“Three coffees?” Her voice is bored and muffled, but I don’t look at her.

Scout answers. “Yeah, thanks.”

“I’ll give you a minute to look at the menu.” She’s gone, and I stare at the oversized pictures of eggs, bacon, and toast on plates.

Scout and Hope are looking at me. “You okay, bro?”

The whirlwind of memories of times when we were all together starts to dissipate, and in its place comes something strange. A cold band of iron tightens across my chest, and my throat feels hot. My brain feels a little loose, and I can’t decide if I want to punch someone or flip the table.

“Three coffees.” The waitress reappears setting the thick mugs in front of us. “Have you decided what you want or still need a minute?”

The menu is