“Okay, then. No more mother-hen business,” she says with a smile. “I promise. You should see if they have some of that motion sickness medicine.”

“Okay.”

Harper’s hand flies up and she presses her phone closer to her ear. “Yes? Yes, I’m here! Hello? Can you hear me?” After a brief pause she nods. “Okay, so I rented a car with you guys from the Newark airport today…”

I slip out of the car while she’s talking, making my way past a family passing sandwiches out of a cooler and an older couple with a cell phone held between their faces. It’s like a smaller version of the Newark airport, people everywhere trapped by the stupid weather.

I pull open the glass door, bells overhead giving a dull jangle. The store smells like heat-lamp hot dogs and old coffee. The door closes behind me, and I edge past a row of plastic-wrapped snack cakes that a group of women in their twenties are eyeing. There is a glass display case of fishing lures and knives beside a cooler marked LIVE BAIT. The bathroom doors are next to the cooler, so I head toward them, cutting through the aisle that seems most likely to carry a don’t-throw-up pill.

Brecken and I pass each other in the aisle, which offers the most bizarre mismatched inventory I’ve ever seen. I scan the options. A single box of tampons that looks like something my grandmother might have bought in high school. A travel container of diaper wipes, though I see no diapers. There’s also a dusty safety razor in plastic packing and a couple of rolls of individually wrapped toilet paper. The medicine options are limited: little packets of aspirin and ibuprofen and a bag of cough drops by a brand I’ve never seen. Nothing specific for treating nausea, but there is a packet of pink multi-stomach-symptom tablets. The price tag makes me cringe, but puking in the back of the car sounds worse, so maybe I should give it a shot.

“Doing a little shopping?” Brecken asks.

I jump, surprised by his voice and his presence. I didn’t realize he’d stopped walking. Was he just watching me browse the shelves? I shake my head. “Just looking for something for my stomach. What are you doing?”

“Keeping an eye on you,” he says, smirking. “I’m a nice guy like that. You probably sensed it.”

“Hm,” I say, instead of arguing. “Have you seen any Dramamine?”

He glances at the front counter, where endless boxes of cigarettes tower around the register. “Unless it’s a kind of fishing bait or tobacco product, you’re probably shit out of luck. Where’s Harper?”

“She got through to the rental car company,” I say, noticing she’s pulled the car forward to the pump but hasn’t actually gotten out yet. “I’m not sure what good it’s going to do.”