Page 41 of Unmanageable

“Cash?”

“Yeah?”

“If we get stranded during this five-hour marathon, I’m eating you first.”

He laughs, a deep, rich sound that vibrates through the entire cabin. “Fair enough. I’m mostly muscle. Probably be a bit chewy.”

***

The sun is starting to dip, casting long, orange shadows across the road that match the van perfectly.

I hate the noise. I hate the wind. But as I watch Cash sing along to a song he doesn’t know the lyrics to, I realize I’ve never felt more alive.

“Next game!” Cash shouts, hitting the dashboard again. “I Spy. I’ll start. I spy with my little eye… something that is orange and currently trying not to laugh at me.”

“I hate you.”

“Ha!” he says, grinning. “Direct hit on the Shark.”

“I spy something… beige,” I say, staring out at the endless expanse of dry grass along the highway.

“The ground,” Cash says instantly.

“No.”

“That rock?”

“No.”

“The dust on the dashboard?”

“No.”

“Scottie, everything in this part of the state is beige. Be more specific.”

“I won’t. That’s the game.”

“That’s not the game, that’s just you being difficult.” He reaches over and playfully pokes my ribs.

“Don’t touch the agent!” I squeal, swatting his hand away. “Assault! I’ll sue!”

“Good. I’ll hire you to defend me.”

“You couldn’t afford me.”

“I have an orange van and half a bag of pretzels. I’m a high roller.”

I look at him, and for a second, the banter dies down. The light is turning golden, hitting the side of his face in a way that makes my chest tighten, making it hard to find my next words.

He looks at me, and his smile fades into something softer, something more honest.

“You’re okay, Scottie,” he says, his voice low.

“I know I am.”

“No. I mean… you’re okay. Even without the plan. Even when you’re not the one in charge.”

I look back at the map, my heart racing, pretending to study a town I’ve never heard of. “Just drive, O’Connell.”