Mia gripped the steering wheel tighter as the highway gave way to smaller roads. Trees got thicker, and every few miles she passed signs for lake cabins and boat rentals. Six hours felt longer when you were leaving everything behind.
She kept replaying the morning. Jake didn’t even come out of his room to say goodbye. Mom hugged her too tightly and slipped fifty dollars in her bag “for gas.” Dad just reminded her to text when she arrived. Nobody cried. It still felt heavy.
Her phone had buzzed once on the way. Ethan.
Ethan: Drive safe. Let me know when you make it.
She hadn’t replied yet. She didn’t know what to say that didn’t sound bitter or needy.
The GPS voice told her to turn left onto a narrow road lined with tall pines. Aunt Lisa’s house sat at the end, a two-story wooden place
