In town, they lock their bikes to a street sign in front of the club, where Wyatt is waiting outside. There are enough people milling around that Willa doesn’t see him at first. But when it hits her that Wyatt is standing in front of her in downtown Brunswick, she launches herself at him. He catches her up in his arms, holding her tight. With her face buried in his neck, Willa can’t see the expression on his face—like everything in his world is right—but Taylor can, and it makes her smile. This is a boy who is going to be a part of Willa’s life for a good long while—maybe even longer.

As they enter the club, Willa and Wyatt are in their own little bubble, oblivious to everyone around them, including Taylor. She feels a tiny bit like a third wheel, but it’s a temporary condition. In just a few weeks, she’ll be at Kent State, where she might meet someone special. Or maybe not. But one of the things Whiskey Tango Foxtrot has taught her is that you get there when you get there. Leaving Willa and Wyatt in their love bubble, she moves toward the stage.

The band comes out and takes up their instruments, and the lead singer is a blond woman wearing a tank top that says I’M NOT BOSSY, I’M THE BOSS. She straps on her guitar and steps up to the microphone.

“Hello, Brunswick!” she says. “We are the Freecoasters from Fort Myers, Florida, and we waited out a hurricane to be with you tonight, so I’m going to need you to get out on the dance floor and show me your moves.”

Taylor stakes her claim on a solo piece of dance floor until Willa takes her by the arm and pulls her right into the middle of the crowd.

29.9012° N, 81.3124° W

Stay young.

Willa

EVERYTHING IN WILLA’S WORLD IS right. Even though Wyatt has gone back to North Carolina, she had the chance to spend four whole days with him. They danced to the ska band in Brunswick. Sailed outside the ICW along Jekyll Island. Anchored inside Cumberland Island, where they camped overnight on the beach. And bodysurfed Atlantic Beach before Wyatt left from Jacksonville to go home. It wasn’t enough time, but it was better than no time at all.

Now she and Taylor are back on their own, motoring steadily toward Finley’s next clue—“Stay young”—which can only mean the Fountain of Youth in St. Augustine. Except the closer they get, the more Taylor withdraws, and Willa has no idea why. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to go to the Fountain of Youth,” Taylor snaps.

“Okay, so—”