“My exact words were, ‘I know your sister.’”
“Listen, El. Quinn likes his privacy so it’s probably best that you keep your distance.”
“Okay…”
“We’ll talk more later. I gotta run.” She’s gone, in a flash, without any explanation as to why I can’t converse with her brother. Surely, if we’re working the same shift, we should be able to talk.
I decide to try and get some sleep. I’m back on the cusp, that spot between coherent and total darkness when my phone rings. I don’t open my eyes when I answer. As soon as I hear my brother’s voice, I wish like hell I didn’t pick up the phone.
“Good, you’re alive. I’ve started thinking you’re dead and someone has taken your phone, leading us on a wild goose chase.”
“What do you want, Rhett?”
“I want to know what’s going on. You may have our parents fooled, however, I am not. You’re not posting any pictures on social media, your story is nonexistent, and I smell a rat.”
“Change your socks.”
“Funny. Where are you?”
I sigh. “I don’t know, somewhere between Idaho and South Carolina. Sofia and I don’t have a destination in mind.”
“Hmm… Something’s up. Mom and Dad are beside themselves here, Eleanora. You should’ve been home days ago.”
He’s right. I don’t know how much longer I can put off the charade. Eventually, I have to either tell them or head home. Neither one sounds appealing right now. I like it here and want to stay longer.
“I’m fine, Rhett. I’m enjoying my new car and traveling the country with my bestie. You’d do the same thing if the only thing waiting for you back home was a guy you didn’t want to marry.”
“Roy? What’s wrong with him?”
I close my eyes and kick the covers with my feet. I shouldn’t have said anything about Roy because they’re friends. “Nothing. I’m just tired. Can we talk later?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, Rhett. Go back to making the women at the plantation swoon. It’s what you do best.” I disconnect the call as panic sets in. If Rhett is suspicious, so are my parents. It seems that my time here is more limited than I thought.
9
Quinn
After an early morning flight to Portland, and a two-hour drive into the forest, Noah, Liam, my dad, and I are finally at our campground. When the Westbury’s asked my dad and I to come camping with them, I thought they meant we’d be in a cabin with running water and electricity. Much to my shock, we’re staying in tents, bathing in the ice-cold river runoff from Mt. Hood, making our food by campfire and most importantly, escaping reality. How could I pass this up?
Things between my father and I seem a bit rough. We haven’t spoken much since I stopped by and it makes me wonder what’s on his mind and whether he’s truly angry with me because I won’t join Elle’s band or if it’s something else. I don’t think my mom would have told him about the breakdown I had on the beach, especially the part about Alicia, but I can’t be too sure. My parents tell each other everything and I didn’t exactly ask my mom not to say anything to my dad, probably because I didn’t want to put her in an awkward position.
Our campsite is much nicer than I expected. The river’s definitely the focal point of this space with the fire pit not far from the bank. Right off, Liam sets up four chairs around the metal cylinder for us. There are people staying on both sides of the camp, which could pose a problem with privacy unless they stay to themselves. Although, sometimes I think Liam puts us in places like this because he wants to be normal for a little bit. I somewhat get it. Growing up with the band, I’ve seen how fans act. On the other hand, privacy is great. I love that no one knows who I am and unless I’m caught in a picture with the band or Noah, I don’t exist. It’s a happy lifestyle.
My dad pulls out a collapsible broom, extending the handle until it’s full height. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“Sweeping the ground.”
I run my hand over my beanie and look at Noah, who shrugs. “Uh, why?”
“So, the ground is clean.”
“Aren’t the pine needles supposed to give us a barrier, maybe some kind of comfort?”
Dad stops, he looks at me, Noah, and Liam. We all seem to have the same ‘what the’ expressions on our face. My dad throws his hands up in the air, the broom too, and says, “I don’t know. I’m only doing what Katelyn suggested.”
The three of us laugh, which doesn’t sit well with my dad. He waves us off and puts his Holly Homemaker broom back in his bag.