Page 78 of Sunday Morning

“Can’t.” I crossed my arms. “It’s going to take me a few days to forget about you being mean to that baby cow.”

He grinned. “Is that so?”

“Yep.”

He continued to play his song, but I didn’t recognize it. “I heard Matt saying that you might go camping with Heather and a few other friends over the Fourth.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So what if you didn’t?” He stopped playing and eyed me with an unreadable expression.

“Why wouldn’t I? It's the first time I've had permission to camp without parents chaperoning."

“It’s four hours to Nashville. I’ll be there for two nights.”

Isaac brought me to life while everyone else tried to crush my dreams, slamming one door after another. He blew off the ceiling and gave me wings. I was still upset on behalf of that baby cow, but I couldn’t fully suppress my grin as I took slow steps toward him, dragging my shoes in the dirt.

“What are you doing in Nashville?”

He sat up, pulling his feet from the window and setting his guitar on the floor. “Playing at a bar my buddy owns. Drinking too much beer. And watching fireworks.”

“What buddy?” I tried to control my giddiness while I clasped my hands behind my back.

“A chief I served under as an MP. He retired last year, and he bought a bar with his brother.” Isaac tossed his toothpick onto the ground and fished a pack of gum from his pocket.

Istood between his spread knees and rested my hands on them, gazing up at him. “What’s an MP?”

He chuckled. “Military Police.”

I twisted my lips. “So you arrested people?”

Again, he grinned. “I enforced the military laws.”

“Hmm. Interesting. Tell me more about this bar. Are you asking me to sing with you?”

“Fuck, no.” He unwrapped a stick of gum and shoved it into his mouth.

I frowned. “Then why bring it up?”

“Because I thought you’d like to watch some other people perform. You like to watch, right?”

Despite not being finished with my grumpiness towards him, I nodded.

He curled my hair behind my ear and ghosted his fingers along my jaw. “Come with me,” he whispered.

I swallowed, fighting emotions that were unlike anything I had ever felt. “Um, where would I stay?”

“With me.”

All the air left my lungs.

I longed to be an adult, carving out my own path and setting my own rules, but my conscience had been influenced by hundreds of sermons. Still, Isaac’s “with me” felt like the day my dad took the training wheels off my bike, turning it into a “big girl bike.” I faked it—feigning bravery until I realized I was doing it all by myself.

The road was mine.

The wind in my hair.

Hands gripped to the handlebars.