The Road That Leads to Us

by Micalea Smeltzer

  “Hey, I’ve only been skydiving once,” I defended, stepping out of his hold. I looked down at my shirt and began to pick off the bits of grass.

  “But I bet you’d do it again.” He started back towards the hotel and I followed.

  “In a heartbeat.”

  When I caught up to him his hands slid around my arm, down my wrist, and finally his fingers twined with mine. His hand was warm, but his fingers were roughened from many hours of playing guitar without a pick.

  I rested my head on his shoulder as we walked.

  Back in our hotel room we took turns showering before packing our bags to head out for another day on the road.

  We loaded the car, but decided to grab breakfast at the hotel.

  I loaded up my plate with eggs, bacon, and toast, while Dean grabbed a bit of everything.

  I was surprised by how many tables were occupied with guests eating breakfast. It was still pretty early, so I’d expected the room to be empty.

  Dean and I snagged a table in the center of the room, the only currently available table, and sat down to eat.

  “Liam’s not going to shoot us or anything when we show up?” He asked around a mouthful of pancake.

  “No,” I laughed, shaking my head. “Stop worrying, he’ll be cool with this.” I hope.

  I didn’t see any reason why Liam wouldn’t be happy to see us. True, he was a bit of a recluse and liked his privacy, but I was family and Dean practically was too.

  “My aunt and uncle might’ve told him we were coming,” I reasoned with a shrug as I slathered way too much butter across my brown piece of toast.

  He looked at me doubtfully.

  “What?” I batted my eyes innocently before biting into the toast. “It’s possible.”

  “Uh-huh.” He wiped his mouth on a napkin and thankfully let the subject drop.

  After having a second helping of breakfast, Dean finally decided he was full and we headed outside to leave.

  I started towards the passenger side, but Dean veered in front of me suddenly and twisted his arm behind his back throwing the keys in the air.

  I jumped, letting out a startled scream, but managed to catch them.

  “I’m not driving!”

  There weren’t many things that scared me, but crashing and destroying Dean’s car was near the top spot after the last mishap.

  “Yes, you are.” He leaned against the side of the car and crossed his arms over his chest.

  I glared down at the keys resting in the palm of my hands.

  “I thought you weren’t afraid of anything,” he murmured, taking my chin between his fingers. “It seems I’ve finally found something that makes the infallible Willow Wade shake in her boots. Or in this case,” he looked down at my dirty white Chucks, “your sneakers.”

  “Do you really trust me to drive?” I eyed him doubtfully and closed my palm around the keys. The abrasive edge of one dug into my palm.

  He bent, his green eyes clear and untroubled. “I trust you.”

  Inhaling a deep breath, my shoulders sagged. “Fine, I’ll drive. I don’t promise to be happy about it.”

  “Trust me. You’ll enjoy yourself in no time. Plus we can use the app this time.” He waved his phone around with a silly grin.

  “You suck.” I poked him in the ribs and moved to get in the driver’s side.

  I had to adjust the seat and mirrors while Dean set up his phone so I could see it.

  When I was ready, I backed out of the parking lot and listened to the directions the phone barked at me.

  “She has a supremely unpleasant voice.” Dean’s nose crinkled with distaste. “I far prefer your navigating style.”

  “You mean when I say, ‘Fuck, we went the wrong way!’ all the time?”

  He chuckled and twisted in his seat to reach for something in the back. “Yeah, I find it highly amusing. Your nose scrunches, you squint your eyes, and you crinkle the map in your hands. That poor thing will be so wrinkled by the time we get home it’ll practically be a museum relic.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him, but he was too busy searching in the back to notice.

  “What are you doing?” I asked him, glancing behind me and then quickly back at the road.

  “Got it.” He pulled his guitar from the back and into his lap.

  “Why do you need your guitar?” I asked hesitantly, tapping my fingers restlessly against the steering wheel.

  “Shh,” he hushed me, “sit back, relax, and let the majesty of my voice wash over you.”

  “Huh?” I turned quickly to see him fidgeting in the seat. His straight white teeth dug into his bottom lip and he drummed his fingers against the top of his guitar as he thought.

  “I’m trying to serenade you, but you’re shorting out my brain with all your chatter. Shush.” He leaned over and pressed a single finger to my lips.

  Me? Quiet? Was he crazy?

  “Dean—”

  He began to strum the guitar, and then the real magic happened.

  My mouth dropped open and I shook my head in disbelief.

  “Are you seriously ‘serenading,’” I mimicked his tone, “me with the Pokémon theme song?”

  “The original theme song,” he corrected, before returning to where he’d left off in the song.

  I couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled past my lips.

  Forcing myself to keep my eyes on the road, and not to glance at Dean sitting sprawled out beside me with the guitar in his lap, I said, “You sure know how to woo a girl.”

  He finished the song and set the guitar on the floor of the car between his legs. “I try,” he responded to my comment.

  “That’s it?” I gasped. “I don’t get another song?”

  “I’m done for now.” He grinned, resting his arm on the edge of the door.

  With the top down his hair blew in the wind. I had my hat on, so mine didn’t go anywhere. I hated it whipping in my face and constantly having to bat it away.

  “You just wanted to sing the Pokémon theme song, didn’t you?”

  He did this little half-shrug thing and looked out the window. “Possibly.”

  “I can see why Brooklyn hid your Pokémon cards from you. You’re obsessed.”

  He busted out laughing—the kind of booming laugh that shakes your whole body and leaves tears in your eyes.

  Sobering, he said, “I honestly didn’t talk about Pokémon that much with her. I knew she wouldn’t embrace my weirdness the way you do.”

  I stole a quick glance at him, my brows furrowed. “You’re not weird, you’re just you.”

  He grinned at that.

  We grew quiet and Dean reached between us to turn the radio on before returning his guitar to the backseat of the car.

  A few hours later I spotted a sign for a lake and veered off of our course.

  “What are you doing?” Dean asked at the same time the app began shouting at me that I was going the wrong way.

  “Lake!” I answered eagerly, unable to hide my large grin.

  Dean shook his head and leaned back in the seat. I knew he was probably muttering to himself about how crazy I was, and what kind of trouble I was bound to get into, but I didn’t care.

  Too many days of being cooped up in the car and only stopping at random roadside stores had left me restless.

  I needed to do something fun.

  I followed the signs and eventually came to the large lake. There was a gravel parking lot and it was mostly full but I managed to snag a spot.

  I turned the car off and Dean shook his head. “What happened to going to the Grand Canyon?”

  “It’s over nine hours from Roswell. There’s no way we would’ve made it there today. We always stop a million times, so why is this any different?” I asked, climbing out of the car—legit climbing and not using the door. I jumped to the ground and my shoes slid against the gravel.

  “It’s different, because I know you,” he said, following me to the back of the car. “The last time you
were at a lake you fell and had to get five stitches in your forehead.”

  “My dad overreacted,” I countered, “it was only a small cut.”

  “When something’s gushing blood it’s not a small cut,” Dean countered, following along beside me as I headed in the direction of the busy lake.

  I already wore my bikini under my clothes, because it’d been scorching hot this morning, so that would make getting into the lake even easier. Dean, however, was dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with the Avengers on it.

  “Shouldn’t you go put your board shorts on or something?” I tossed a thumb over my shoulder back towards the car.

  “I’m not getting in.” He shook his head adamantly.

  “You’re gonna get wet.” I sing-songed, lifting my shirt off my head and tossing it at him.

  “Willow—” He began to grumble, reaching up to jerk the piece of fabric from his face. When he saw that I’d now removed my shorts and they dangled by a lone finger the words died on his tongue and he swallowed thickly.

  His teeth sank into his bottom lip and his eyes darkened to the color of moss after rain when he looked me up and down.

  “Are ya coming, Hot Buns?” I tossed my shorts at him and his hand shot out to grab them.

  He nodded woodenly.

  I couldn’t control the twitch of my lips.

  The lake was straight in front of me and I headed towards it, doing a cartwheel in the sand before my feet landed in the water.

  “Willow!” Dean groaned—no doubt afraid my boobs were about to come flying out for the world to see.

  “Chillax.” I adjusted my top—no nip slip, might I add, and backed further into the water so it was up to my knees.

  I knew there was quite the crowd around us, but I paid them no mind. The only person I saw was Dean and at the moment he stood at the shore’s end, his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets, the action pulling his shirt taut across his chest.

  He shook his head, seeming to know that I was up to no good.

  I kicked my leg out suddenly, showering him in water.

  His eyes closed and his lips thinned when the water soaked his shirt and dampened his hair. The brown strands stuck unevenly to his forehead and I had to giggle.

  “Oh, you’ve done it now!” He roared and ran towards me.

  I tried to get away, but the water slowed me down and I started to fall, but then Dean was there, swinging me around in his arms. Our laughter rang in the air as he spun me around and around.

  Kicking my legs, I cried, “Put me down! You’re making me dizzy!”

  He did just that and I dropped into the water, getting soaked. It wasn’t very deep where we were, but since I fell I ended up wet all over. I got some satisfaction though, seeing as the water that splashed up covered Dean so he was even more wet than before.

  Dean held his stomach and laughed boisterously at the sight of me lying in the water looking like a wet dog. A piece of my hair was stuck to my forehead and I grabbed it, tucking it away.

  “Sorry, that was mean,” he tried to apologize, but the words were useless when he couldn’t hide his grin. “Here, let me help you up.” He held out his hand to me.

  I took his offered hand, and unable to resist I gave a harsh pull yanking him forward.

  He let out a groan before tumbling into the water beside me. He fell face first and rolled over onto his side in the knee-deep water. He shook his head, sending water droplets flying.

  I pressed my lips together, trying to hold in my laughter.

  “Well,” Dean began, bending his knees and resting his hands on his wet jeans, “I should’ve changed.”

  Those words were my undoing and I dissolved into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, the kind that had you clutching your stomach.

  “We’re quite a mess, you and I, aren’t we?” He smiled crookedly.

  “The messiest,” I agreed. Lifting my hands in the air, I said, “At least we have fun.”

  He nodded his head in agreement and his hand came up to cup my chin. He tilted my head up to his and lowered his lips to mine. The kiss was slow, and sweet, and absolutely perfect.

  “You’re crazy,” he whispered against my lips.

  “And you’re a dork,” I added, and he cracked a grin.

  “But I love you.” He nuzzled my neck.

  I reached up and my fingers tangled into his wet hair. “And I love you.”

  Dean

  On the twelfth day of our Epic Road Trip we arrived at the Grand Canyon.

  Willow was bouncing in her seat in anticipation.

  I parked the car and she was out the door before I could blink.

  She was a big ball of excitement today. I hurried out of the car and rushed after her, hoping to catch up to her before she could do something stupid.

  “Dean! Hurry up!” She called after me, not slowing. Her blonde hair whipped around her shoulders and her blue eyes were light and happy.

  When I caught up to her, I twisted my thumbs into the front loops of her jean shorts and pulled her against me. She tilted her head back and smiled up at me. The sun danced across her cheeks, bringing to life the dusting of freckles across her face and nose.

  Her happiness was infectious and I found my own lips lifting into a grin.

  She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to my stubbled jaw.

  “This is beautiful,” she beamed, gazing around at the canyon.

  “It is,” I agreed, but my eyes only saw her.

  I followed her to the very edge, as far as we were allowed to go, and we gazed out at the natural wonder below and all around us.

  The Colorado River cut through the steep valley, roaring with life.

  Willow threw out her arms above her head and yelled, “I’m on top of the woooorld!”

  People turned to stare, but neither of us cared.

  Let them look and see that this was what living looked like.

  Willow flipped around in my arms and wound hers around my neck.

  Her cheeks were flushed with happiness and her eyes were bright without worry. “Thank you for this.”

  “For what?” I asked stupidly.

  “For coming on this trip with me, for giving me the opportunity to see this.” She turned, sweeping her arm out to encompass the land.

  “I’d do anything for you.” It was the truth. I’d go out of my way to make that girl smile, to hear her laugh, to be her world.

  She glowed at my words and kissed me quickly before turning in my arms once more to look out at the canyon.

  She shivered and I rubbed my hands up her arms. “Cold?” It was hot where we were, but there was a light wind so it was plausible.

  “No.” She shook her head and her hair brushed my exposed collarbone. “The view gave me chills,” she admitted. “Think about what it must’ve been like to have seen this hundreds of years ago, before there were cars, trains, anything really. Just imagine stumbling upon this…they must’ve felt like they’d found heaven.”

  I glanced at the huge drop to the river below.

  “Or hell,” I added.

  She giggled and tilted her head back to look at me, squinting from the sunlight. “It’s too beautiful to be hell.”

  “The most devilish of things can come in the most unassuming of packages,” I quipped.

  She shook her head and reached up to brush away the blonde hairs plastered to her forehead from the wind. “Why do I feel like you’re talking about me?”

  “If the shoe fits…” I shrugged.

  She punched me in the stomach with enough force to momentarily cause me to lose my breath.

  “Willow,” I groaned, pulling in a lungful of air.

  Laughter bubbled out of her throat. “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard,” she defended.

  “I can tell you’re real torn up about it,” I commented as I regained my breath.

  She giggled and lifted to press a kiss to my cheek. “Better?”

  I pointed to my lips and she kissed me agai
n.

  “Better now?” She asked, her lips twisting as she fought a grin.

  “I think I’ll live to see another day.” I grinned down at her—at this crazy, beautiful, adventurous, girl that had somehow decided I was worthy of being loved by her.

  “Good.” She patted my stomach gently where she’d punched me before.

  She returned to staring at the view. We stood there for as long as we could before venturing back to the car.

  Willow laid her head on the back of the seat and turned to look at me. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I would’ve hated to have missed that.”

  “Me too,” I agreed, starting the car and pulling away.

  We still had a few hours before it would be dark, so we opted to start the nine-hour drive to Malibu.

  Willow propped her feet on the dashboard and fiddled with the radio station. She found one she liked and began singing along to the song.

  I smiled at the sound of her sweet, softly hesitant, voice. For someone that approached life with reckless abandon, she sang with a quiet rasp like she was afraid of being overheard. I loved the sound of her voice though and how at odds it was with her personality.

  She tapped her hands against her legs in time with the beat, and I had to chuckle to myself. If you hung around her dad long enough you found that he drummed his hands, or whatever he was holding, against everything. I remembered one of the many New Year’s Eve parties my parent’s had when I was about ten years old. Maddox had been sitting at a nearby table, drumming his utensils against his plate. Some of the older, stuffier, people watched him with disgust. My parent’s had found it endlessly amusing.

  The car made a sudden noise and Willow ceased singing. “What was that?” Her feet landed flat on the floor of the car and she looked around like the explanation was floating in the air waiting for her to grab it.

  “I’m not sure,” I mumbled to myself.

  Smoke began to rise out of the hood and Willow cursed.

  “We’re so fucking screwed,” she muttered.

  I pulled off the road and into a bend between a cropping of trees.

  “No, we’re not,” I assured her as I undid my belt. “I’m a mechanic, remember?”

  “I seem to have forgotten that tidbit of information.” She laughed to herself and followed me out of the car.