Of course I didn’t make him use the laundromat. And in fact I needed to do some laundry myself, so we ran a load while we hung out in the living area.

  “You want to watch anything?” I asked. “I’ve got Hulu and Netflix.”

  Blake looked around. “I didn’t even realize you had a TV.”

  “Oh, I do.” I pressed a button beside my seat. On the opposite wall, a panel slid open, and Blake’s jaw went slack as he watched the flat screen TV rise out of its compartment.

  “Holy shit,” he squeaked. “What else does this thing have hidden in it? Don’t tell me there’s a disco ball in the ceiling.”

  “Nah.” I picked up the remote off the coffee table. “That was too expensive.”

  He eyed me like he wasn’t quite sure if I was joking.

  I chuckled. “Okay, they don’t offer disco balls, but they definitely have some ridiculous features.”

  “Such as?”

  “They showed me one model that had a full bar. But like…I don’t drink that much, and I don’t exactly throw big parties in here, so that seemed a bit excessive.” I rested the remote on my leg. “The wildest one I saw had—I shit you not—a hot tub and helicopter pad.”

  Blake’s eyes went huge. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. That was, uh, a bit much.”

  “Do I even want to know what the price tag was on something like that?”

  I snorted. “Yeah, it was at an RV show, and from the way the sales guys were looking down their noses, it was definitely an ‘if you have to ask, you can’t afford it’ situation.”

  “Jesus Christ.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I can’t imagine having that much money. Especially being able to afford the helicopter to land on the helo pad. Like, what the fuck?”

  “I know, right? But hey, whatever floats someone’s boat.”

  “This one’s pretty nice, though.” He smirked. “Even if you did skimp on a place for me to land my private helicopter.” That he accompanied with a haughty sniff and a roll of his eyes.

  “Uh-huh. Though I still think I should’ve sprung for the heated floors.” I grimaced. “It’s not so bad in the mornings because I have the heat on, but when I stop after I’ve been driving for a while, it can take a while to warm up. And I really hate wearing shoes indoors, so…”

  “Why didn’t you get them?”

  “Eh. Every time we added another option, the price kept going up. Even though I went into it expecting to drop a huge wad of cash, I started getting some serious sticker shock, especially there towards the end.”

  “I believe it.” He paused, watching himself petting the blissfully unconscious kitten racked out in his lap. “If, um… If you don’t mind my asking, how did you end up…” He made another gesture at our surroundings, as if to encompass my entire situation. “Like, how does someone find themselves traveling the country, filming YouTube videos about restaurants? I mean, you told me how you started the channel and all, but how did you get from there to here?” He didn’t sound judgy or bothered by the idea, just genuinely curious. I couldn’t really blame him, because it hadn’t been that long since the whole concept had been alien to me. Sometimes it still was.

  “Dumb luck and some incredibly risky decisions?” I chuckled as I scratched the back of my neck. “Truth is, I’d always wanted to travel. My day job was so damn soul-sucking and so stingy about time off, I really couldn’t go anywhere. Even if I had a three-day weekend or something, I was always using that time to catch up on housework or get my oil changed or whatever. Then I got the idea of taking the videos on the road. Doing restaurant reviews or something. I did a survey of my viewers, and yadda, yadda, yadda, landed on finding the best pizza in every state.” I laughed self-consciously and shook my head. “Still feels a little weird to be doing this for a job, but…” I trailed off, not sure how to finish that.

  “But hey, it’s obviously worked out for you.”

  “I can’t complain.” I almost added most of the time, but kept that to myself. Comparing Blake’s situation to mine—no, I absolutely could not complain.

  “How much longer are you on the road?”

  “As long as it takes.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Seriously?”

  “Mmhmm. As long as I keep producing content and getting views and sponsorships, there’s no real reason to stop.”

  “Wow,” he whispered. “That sounds…liberating.”

  “After what I was doing before, it definitely is.” And it was liberating to hear someone call it that, too. Not everyone shared Blake’s view. “When I told people I was going to do this—like my friends and family, not my viewers—the reactions were, uh, mixed.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Blake shifted a little, moving carefully as if to avoid disturbing Bert. The kitten stretched out his front legs, yawned, and then pulled his paws back over his face and curled against Blake’s sweatshirt with a dramatic sigh. Blake chuckled and petted him. “Such a stressful existence for you, Mr. Freeloader.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, he’s got it rough.” I nodded toward Ernie, who was sprawled on the floor amidst a bunch of scattered toys. “They both do.”

  “No kidding.” Blake glanced up at me before returning his gaze to Bert as he asked, “So what did people think about you taking this trip?”

  “Some said they were envious, because they wanted to travel all over instead of working.” I huffed another laugh. “As if there’s no work involved in this, but okay.”

  Blake nodded, looking at me through his lashes. “Yeah, I’ve heard the whole influencer gig isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. A lot of money, but a ton of work.”

  I tried not to wince at him calling me an influencer. It was technically accurate, and it wasn’t his fault the word made my skin crawl. It was some of the other influencers—the really loud and visible entitled assholes—who’d given us all a collective reputation for being insufferable. “It’s definitely a lot of work,” I said. “But people don’t realize it. So about half my social circle envies me because they wish they could be on a permanent vacation like I am, and the other half thinks I’m lazy, lack ambition, and need to get a real job.”

  “A real—” Blake rolled his eyes. “You’re getting real paychecks. Doesn’t that count for something?”

  “Nah, apparently if you’re not completely miserable, you’re not actually working. I tried explaining to one of my uncles that this job pays significantly more than I made as an engineer, but he still insists I need to get a real job.” I laughed dryly. “Like yo, I’m not qualified for any ‘real jobs’ that pay what this one does.”

  Too late, I remembered who I was talking to, and I inhaled sharply, ready to apologize for sounding like an asshole.

  Before I could, though, Blake said, “Hey, you’re living the dream. Anyone who thinks you should give it up to do something miserable for less money just wishes they’d thought of it first.”

  I relaxed back against my chair. “Maybe. I figure this won’t last forever, either. But I might as well ride it for as long as I can, you know? And when it does fizzle out, I’ll still have this.” I gestured around us. “So I’ll still have a place to live. Plus I can up and relocate anywhere, so I can go where the jobs are.”

  “Okay, that is some smart planning.” Blake watched himself scratching behind Bert’s ear. “I’d probably be in a way better situation if I’d done some more of that.”

  I was intensely curious but didn’t push the issue. We still had some time together—at least ten days or so until we made it to Chicago—so maybe I’d learn more about him and his situation.

  For now, though, I let it go. Instead, we moved on to lighter subjects, and eventually perused my streaming services until we found something worth watching, which turned out to be the latest true crime series. I’d watched the first few episodes already but started from the beginning since Blake hadn’t seen them, and some of the later ones called back to forensic stuff that had been explained earlier on. I didn’t mind rewatching; I hadn’t turned the show on recently, so the refresher was nice.

  Also, I was still pretty distracted by the man sitting on my couch with my kitten. I was curious about him. About where he’d come from. About how he’d ended up where he’d been when our paths had crossed this morning.

  But we’d only just met.

  There would be plenty of time to figure out who he was.

  Chapter 5

  Blake

  By the time Marcus and I called it a night, I was happily exhausted. We’d spent the afternoon and well into the evening binging that forensic show, which I was officially hooked on, though we did take a break around mid-afternoon to walk Ernie around the RV park.

  I also paused between episodes to call Albuquerque P.D. to check in about my car; they hadn’t had any luck finding it or its contents, but they’d be in touch if that changed. If anything was salvageable, we could discuss getting it to me if and when that time came. I wasn’t holding my breath.

  Around seven, Marcus had made us a simple but amazing dinner—chicken in a tangy marinade with some stir-fried vegetables and a perfectly seasoned rice pilaf. I could see why his channel was popular not just for his commentary on pizza, but for his cooking videos. I hung out by the island—still couldn’t believe an RV had a kitchen island—while he cooked, and he was just so at ease and competent. Whenever I’d cooked, I was always anxious about timing, worried I’d burn something or season it wrong, but Marcus… He effortlessly prepared all three dishes simultaneously while carrying on a conversation with me and stepping around his two four-legged “helpers.”

  He’d also used a tiny frying pan to cook up a couple of small, unseasoned pieces of chicken. I was curious about why, but given the longing looks from Ernie and Bert, I had my suspicions.

  Sure enough, as we sat down to eat at the little table, the bites of chicken were divvied up between his thrilled pets. Ernie wolfed his down on the floor. Bert, perched on the otherwise empty kitchen island, delicately picked his up off his plate, purring loudly as he chewed.

  “Do you always make some for them?” I’d asked.

  Marcus’s blush was adorable. “If I’m making a dish I can’t share with them, yeah.” He gestured with his fork at his own chicken. “This had a marinade on it, so I can’t give any of it to them.”

  “So they get their own special chicken without any seasoning?” I grinned. “Aww.”

  The blush deepened, and he ducked his head as he speared a piece of red bell pepper. “I might spoil them a little.”

  “Eh, I don’t blame you. I’d do the same thing if they were mine.”

  He looked at me through his lashes. “Yeah?”

  “Are you kidding?” I gestured at Bert, who was washing his face beside his now-empty plate. “Isn’t that the whole point of having pets? Spoil them rotten in exchange for company?”

  His gaze shifted to his kitten, and he smiled. “Kinda, yeah.” He nodded toward Bert. “I’ve never had a cat before, so this has been new. But there was no way in hell I was leaving him after I found him like that.”

  God, he was such a softy, and it melted my heart. Even now, a few hours later as I lay awake on the foldout bed, I got all melty inside just thinking about how much he adored his animals. Like when we’d been watching TV, and Ernie—all fifty-plus pounds of him—had flopped down across Marcus’s lap. He didn’t quite fit, but they’d both seemed comfortable, and whenever I’d glanced over, even when Marcus was focused on what we were watching, he was absently stroking the dog’s side or one of his soft ears. More than once, Ernie had given a big, contented sigh.

  Around ten, Ernie had jumped up out of Marcus’s lap, gone to the door, sat down, and watched him expectantly. Marcus was already up, reaching for the leash and his jacket.

  “Back in a minute,” he’d told me, and they’d gone outside for a few. When they’d come back in, Ernie had disappeared into the bedroom, and from the loud thump, I guessed he’d gotten into bed. Not long after, Marcus and I called it a night, and just before he closed the door behind him, I heard him saying, “Come on. You can’t have the whole bed.”

  Now the whole trailer was quiet except for Bert snoring softly on the pillow beside my head. I was exhausted, but I couldn’t quite fall asleep. I should’ve been out cold. This was the first time in a long time I’d slept on anything more comfortable then the reclined driver seat of my car. I wanted to go to sleep, but my mind was reeling, and also I kind of wanted to savor this. The comfortable surface. The blanket. The soft hum of a heater. The gentle, whistling snore of the kitten beside me.

  My brain was also too busy to go to sleep quite yet, going in forty different directions, marveling at…everything. Marcus. The encounter with the influencer this morning. Marcus intervening. Marcus… God, everything Marcus had done. Chasing off those obnoxious women with the camera. Sharing his lunch with me. Offering me a ride to Chicago. Altering his entire route because it turned out Chicago was way out of his way.

  My life had been one disaster after another for a long time now. Bad luck. Worse decisions. Every time I thought I was close to getting my feet under me and my head above water, something else would fall apart, and I’d be even worse off than before.

  But today…

  Tonight…

  I closed my eyes and exhaled. Deep down, I was sure this would blow up in my face somehow. Marcus would leave me on the side of the road somewhere. We’d get to Chicago too soon. For one reason or another, Marcus would bail on this entire road trip, settle down in a random city, and I’d again be on my own. Somehow, at some point, this would end in disaster the way everything always did.

  But today…

  Tonight…

  I could breathe. Even a single night of sleeping indoors on something comfortable would be an improvement. With any luck, maybe I’d get two nights of this.

  Or maybe Marcus really was genuine, and he really would see me all the way to my mother’s doorstep.

  Please, please let him be genuine.

  Beside me, Bert shifted a little, squirming on the pillow before stretching and then sinking against my neck and shoulder. It was a little awkward, but with some subtle fidgeting of my own, I got comfortable. Judging by his heavy sigh and the low purr, he was unbothered.

  It occurred to me that he and I weren’t very different. In a way, we were both strays who Marcus had found and taken in. I had to imagine the kitten was as grateful as I was for the warmth, food, and shelter. And he was lucky as hell. This was his forever home. Maybe not the travel trailer itself, but he’d be with Marcus for the rest of his happy kitty life. He’d hit the jackpot, that was for sure.

  Me, I’d only be here for, at best, a couple of weeks. However long it took us to eventually get to my mom’s house in Chicago. That was still world-altering. No more struggling to find a safe place to sleep. No more worrying every hour of every day about literal survival. No more long nights of barely dipping into deep sleep for a precious few minutes before waking up terrified that I’d let my guard down too long.

  The trailer door was locked. The surface beneath me was soft and comfortable. The air was the perfect temperature and didn’t smell like garbage or car exhaust.

  Bert the kitten breathed slowly and deeply, tucked in beside my neck and out cold the way no animal would be if he didn’t feel completely safe.

  Because he was safe. And so was I.

  Safer, warmer, and less stressed than I’d been in way too long, I drifted off to sleep on Marcus’s foldout bed.

  The morning was more biting than crisp—not freezing, but cold enough I could see my breath as I sat on the step outside the trailer door. For a long moment, I sat there in silence, taking in the reality that I hadn’t had to sleep in this. Even in my car, it would’ve been a miserably uncomfortable night. But outside in the elements? Jesus fuck. That was hell. The cold that could settle in during a night like that took hours to thaw. Had it not been for the gym where I could shower and warm up, I had no idea how I’d have made it through some of those cold snaps.

  Last night, I’d been warm. Genuinely, completely, all the way to my bones, warm. I also hadn’t been hot—given some of the absolutely sweltering nights I’d endured, that was a blessing, too. There was no way I would ever take a comfortable, ambient temperature for granted again.

  My body hurt less, too. I’d become so used to low-grade aches and pains that I’d almost forgotten what it was like when they were gone. My back, my neck, my hips, every damn joint and bone—it had all been steadily more sore from sleeping in shitty positions or on hard surfaces, shivering, and just not getting enough sleep. Plus there’d been that relentless throbbing in my head, like a persistent hangover.

  It would take time for all of that to go away, but one night had made a world of difference. The headache had lessened. My back didn’t hurt as much. Another week or two of this, and I’d feel incredible. Maybe even close to normal.

  Something else I would never again take for granted.

  After a while, I rolled my less-stiff-than-before shoulders and looked down at my phone, which I’d been clasping loosely between my fingers. It wasn’t too early to make the call. I just…didn’t want to.

  But I should. Right? Can it wait another day?

  Nah, the sooner the better.

  Ugh. Do I have to?

  I sat back and let my head fall back against the closed door of the trailer. Now was as good a time as any, especially since I had probably half an hour or so to myself. Marcus had just left a few minutes ago to take Ernie out for a run, which was apparently their morning routine.

  “I’m making my living driving and eating pizza,” he’d said with a laugh on the way out. “Running and going to the gym are definitely necessities.”

  Fair enough. Though with as excited as Ernie was, I didn’t imagine Marcus needed his arm twisted to go for a run. I suspected that on the (probably rare) morning when he really didn’t feel like running, all it would take was one look from those big brown eyes to have him putting on his sneakers and grabbing the leash. He was wrapped around all the furry paws in this trailer, and it was seriously adorable.