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bacon double cheeseburger churned in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t want to hear any more. I’d seen stuff like this on TV all the time. But having it sitting next to me in the car wrenched my guts.
    She wiped her eyes again.
    â€œDon’t cry.” Anything but crying. “I’m really sorry I was such an idiot before, leaving you on the road.”
    â€œIt’s fine.”
    â€œYou’re safe now. Okay?”
    â€œYeah.” She leaned her head against the window. In a few minutes, her breathing came slow and steady; she’d fallen asleep. She must’ve been exhausted.
    I turned right and crossed the Columbia River back into Oregon on the Bridge of the Gods, stopping at the tollbooth to pay the dollar toll. I watched in my rearview mirror for a set of headlights to follow me across the bridge. None did. They must have gone back to Portland. Thirty minutes later, we passed through Hood River and out into the forest to the cabin at the base of the volcano. The only place I ever found a shred of peace.
    When I pulled into the gravel driveway, Scarlett still slept. I left her in the car and went inside. The place was pitch black, and I wanted to get some lights on to check that things were in order before bringing her in.
    My grandfather built the home when my mom was young, before she married into the Morris clan, where money grew on the family tree. Grandpa passed it on to my mother.
    A black lava rock fireplace divided the main floor in half, with a family room in front and a kitchen and bathroom in back. A narrow staircase led to a loft area with a queen-size bed. Not a lot of rooms, but they’d been updated and were open and spacious. Dad had suggested adding on, making it bigger and more luxurious to match the other homes on the river. Mom had an architect drawing plans when she got sick. Dad never came back.
    With the cabin lit up and ready, I went out to get Scarlett.
    â€œScarlett,” I whispered. She didn’t stir. I gave her a little shake but got nothing, so I lifted her out of the car. She weighed almost nothing, except her heavy boots, which must have added ten pounds to her miniature body. After hauling her feet around in those things all day, no wonder she was worn out.
    I carried her into the cabin, up the stairs, and onto the bed. It took me ten minutes to unlace her boots before I slipped them off and tucked her feet under the covers. Should I take off her dark glasses? Or did that cross too far into invasion of privacy? I left them on. I went downstairs and built a fire to warm the house.
    By now I thought I’d be almost to Canada. Or at least spending the night in a nice hotel north of Seattle.
    Did my dad even know I was gone? It was just past ten, and he’d be getting home from his office any minute. I’d turned off my phone when I left. With a dexterous kick, I pushed out a chair and took a seat at the warped, pinewood kitchen table. I had four missed calls, seven texts, and three voice messages. I checked the missed calls first. One of the missed calls was from a girl I liked who didn’t know I existed—at least that’s what I’d thought until I saw her name on my caller ID. I pushed redial, and it went to her voice mail.
    â€œHi, Beth, it’s Christian. I saw you called and so, um, yeah. I’m sorta out of town for a few days.” Or the rest of my life, but I didn’t want to sever all ties until I knew for sure. A man needs options. This Scarlett thing had thrown a huge wrinkle into my plans. “I guess I’ll talk to you later, bye.”
    I toggled through the rest of the calls. One number I didn’t recognize, and the last was from my dad. He’d never called me on my phone before. I didn’t even know he knew my number. But it’s not like I ever called him either. We had mastered the art of noncommunication.
    The texts were all from friends: the new girl is hot . . . Mr. Cooper’s