“He’s outside with Aidan,” she says, nodding in the direction of the front door.

Growing more nervous, I walk slowly to the door and open it.

Stepping out onto the rock front porch, I see Andrew and Aidan standing on the side of the road in front of the house with Asher, and they’re all leaning against the side of the Chevelle.

For a moment, I’m thinking, All right, so Asher visiting is what this is all about? Not that I’m not happy to see Asher, but face it, that’s not something I would think would warrant this hush-hush thing Andrew has been planning.

It’s the car, I realize, but that’s about all I put together on my own. I have a theory as to why he’s here with it, but at this point I’m just going to try my best not to think about that.

I walk quickly down the rock steps and give Asher a big hug.

“You’re lookin’ great, girl,” he says with those nearly identical Andrew dimples and bright green eyes. Then he squeezes me tight and lifts me a little off my feet.

“It’s great to see you,” I say, beaming.

I keep glancing between him and Andrew, who’s smiling so hugely that I doubt he’ll be able to hold in whatever it is for much longer.

I look at the Chevelle and then at Asher. I do it again.

“So, you drove all the way from…” OK, so this is a little more confusing than I anticipated at first. The car was in Texas, and as far as I know, Asher was in Wyoming. Finally, I continue, “What’s going on?”

Asher looks at Andrew, and Andrew steps out front and center. “I had Asher drive the car here,” he says.

“But why?”

Asher crosses his arms and leans against the back door of the car. “Because he’s crazy,” he says, laughing lightly. “And because he didn’t trust a delivery service to ship it here for him.”

I turn to Andrew again, waiting for him to spit it out. A cold breeze rushes through the my knitted sweater, and I hide my hands inside the sleeves.

“You have five minutes to throw all of your stuff in your bag,” he says, and my heart is beating erratically before he finishes the sentence. He taps his wrist where there is no watch. “Not a second more.”

“Andrew—”

“This isn’t up for debate,” he says. “Go get your stuff.”

I just look at him, face blank.

My theory was right, but I didn’t want it to be. I don’t want to go on the road… I mean, I do… but it’s not right. It’s just not right.

“You have four minutes now,” Asher says.

“But we can’t just leave like this,” I argue. “It would be rude.” I point at Asher. “And Asher just got here. Don’t you want to visit with—”

“I can visit my big brother anytime,” Asher counters. “Right now, I think you better do what he says or you might end up on the road wearing the same panties for a week.”

A few more seconds pass and I still haven’t moved. I’m in a state of mild shock, I guess.

“Three minutes, babe,” Andrew says and is looking at me with a serious face. “I’m not kidding. Get up there, throw our shit in our bags, and get in the damn car.”

Oh hell, he’s back to his old self again…

When I start to argue again, Andrew’s eyes get all feral-looking, and he says, “Hurry up. Time’s running out!” and he points to the house.

Finally, letting down my guard and going with the moment as much as I can allow myself, I glare at him and say, “Fine.” I’m only agreeing to it because I know he’s trying make things better. But I feel guilty as hell.

Disregarding his playful five-minute demand, I turn on my heels and walk very slowly back toward the house, purposely taking my time, partly my way of silently arguing the situation.

“You knew about this, Michelle?” I ask as I walk past her and down the hall.

“Sure did!” she yells back at me. I can hear the smile in her voice.

I push open the bedroom door, set my bag on the bed, and start stuffing everything inside of it. Then I go into the bathroom and grab our toothbrushes and various bathroom necessities. I yank our phone chargers from the wall and then my phone from the nightstand and chuck it all into my purse. I make my way around the room, hoping that I’m not missing anything.

Looks like Andrew already packed his stuff at some point and I never noticed.

Then I just stand here, scanning every inch of the place around me but not really seeing any of it. I don’t want to do this, but maybe it’s the right thing.

I hear the horn honk three times, and it snaps me out of my thoughts. Grabbing my bag, I swing it over my shoulder and grab my purse from the bed.

“See you around!” Michelle says from the couch.

I stop just before I go past her, and I lean over the back of the couch to give her an awkward hug, hindered by the bags on my shoulders.

“Have a great time,” she adds.

“Thank you for inviting us,” I say.

With a big smile, Michelle waves me on, and I head out the front door.

When I make it down the steps, Andrew pops the trunk on the Chevelle, and I toss my bag inside. It’s long past the five minutes he gave me, but I dare him to say anything to me about it.

“Are you ready?” Andrew asks, shutting the trunk.

I inhale a deep breath, look at Asher and Aidan and before I answer, I go over to hug them both.

“Glad you came up,” Aidan says.

“Keep my brother in line,” Asher says.

I smile at them both and hop in the front passenger’s seat and Andrew shuts the door for me.

They say their good-byes. A minute later Andrew slides into the driver’s seat, and a wisp of cold air escapes into the car behind him.

He looks over at me. “So this is how it’s gonna’ go,” he says, resting his wrists on the steering wheel. “We head southeast, toward the coast—”

“Wait,” I interrupt him, “you planned it out?” That’s so against his style. It makes me wonder.

Andrew grins softly and says, “Some of it. But it’s necessary.”

“What part is necessary?”

He looks at me as if to say, Will you let me finish?

I get quiet and let him continue while he reaches over me and pops the glove box. “We’re going to head south and stay on the coast through the winter,” he says, and now all I can think about is just how long he plans to be on the road. Through the winter? I can’t wrap my head around what the hell he’s thinking. He pulls out a map and unfolds it on the steering wheel. I look at him warily. “I hate the frickin’ cold. If we stay on the coast and head farther south, time it just right, we can avoid snow and shit for the most part.”

OK, good plan, I admit. I can’t stand cold weather, either, so yeah, this is definitely necessary. I nod and let him go on.

Andrew points at the giant map and starts to run the tip of his finger along our route. “We’ll start on the Virginia coast and go south from there, making our way through your home state—but no stopping to visit.” He points at me. “We’re just passing through, all right?” He waits for me to answer.

I nod again and say, “All right,” because surely there’s a method to his madness, and I feel like I need to go along with it.

He looks back at the map and his finger starts to trail along it again. “Then South Carolina, down to Georgia, and then we’ll make the trip around the entire length of Florida’s coastline from Fernandina Beach”—his finger makes a long, wide sweep over the paper—“and all the way around to Pensacola.”

“How long will all of this take?”

He smiles and shakes his head at me. “Does it matter?” Then he sloppily folds the map into an uneven stack of paper and tosses it on the seat between us. “I’m calling the shots as far as direction, this time. Mainly because I don’t want to freeze my ass off. But—” he turns back around and faces the front, looking away from me “—well, it’s just the way it needs to be.”

“Why are you doing this, Andrew?”

His eyes fall on me again. “Because it’s right,” he says with such a deep gaze. “Because you’re in the car.”