Page 139 of Knot my First Rodeo

"What?"

"We've got an hour left,” he says dramatically.

"You think he’s gonna make it?" Tripp whispers in my ear.

"Not a chance."

The truck is quiet for all of thirty seconds before Clint shifts in his seat again and lets out a long sigh. I catch Briggs' attention in the rearview mirror before he looks at Clint out of the corner of his eye.

"Just say it."

Clint winks at him. "I have to pee."

Tripp immediately loses it, and I laugh hard enough my stomach hurts while Clint flips us both off.

“Actually, I could use a bathroom, too,” I tell Briggs.

"We’ll get off at the next exit," Briggs responds. “But only because Autumn has to go.”

The blue sign for the next exit appears a few minutes later, and Briggs guides the truck off the highway. The gas station sitting at the bottom of the ramp looks exactly like every gas station in the middle of nowhere. Half convenience store, half truck stop, with faded advertisements in the windows, and about twenty pickup trucks scattered around the parking lot.

The second Briggs parks, Clint is already reaching for the door.

The warm air hits me the second I climb out of the truck. After being in the cab for a while, just standing up feels good. Everybody immediately heads inside, splitting off toward the bathrooms.

When I come back out, Tripp is standing in front of the snack aisle holding two different bags of chips.

"I need help," he whines.

"No."

"You didn't even hear the question."

"I know the answer."

He gasps.

His feelings of betrayal would be more convincing if he wasn't already carrying three candy bars and a giant bag of beef jerky.

"You don't support me.” He puts the hand holding the candy over his heart.

"I support you making better choices."

"That's not support."

A laugh escapes me as I grab a basket and start wandering.

The gas station smells like burnt coffee and mothballs. Country music hums quietly through overhead speakers while somebody argues with a cashier over lottery tickets. I grab a Dr. Pepper from the cooler, then another one, because future Autumn deserves happiness, too.

A bag of sour gummies somehow finds its way into the basket, then beef jerky, and some mini donuts.

Listen, road trip snacks don’t count.

I find Briggs and Clint standing near the coffee station by the time I make it to the register.

Clint takes one look into my basket.

"You’re as bad as Tripp, that's all sugar."