“Cricket . . .” I don’t know what to say to my cousin.

She stops at a red light and turns to me. “We’re getting out of Gable for a couple hours, okay? You’ve been home for a half second, and yes, some bad shit happened. But I’ve barely seen you, and you’re already plotting your escape. I can’t lose you again so soon.”

I can feel the guilt trip starting as she turns onto the highway that will take us to High Pines, the next city over the pass, and one that’s about double the size of Gable. She didn’t tell me where we were going when I got into the van, and I didn’t particularly care. Anywhere but here seems to be my most desired location at the moment.

“Just give me tonight to change your mind, or at least try to accept the idea of you leaving again.”

“Okay. I give in.”

Cricket’s sunny smile just makes me feel worse about the fact that I’m already mentally repacking my bags and trying to decide where I’m going to go.

“Good! We need cousin time, away from the drama. And when we go back to Gable, we’re going to get drunk, because that’s pretty much the only way I know how to deal with the thought of you leaving me again. And the thought of Karma being my maid of honor.”

And my guilt-o-meter keeps climbing . . .

“Hunter has all these friends coming in for the wedding. He could easily have ten groomsmen. And I’m over here with my sister, who’s a cuntcake ninety percent of the time, and my cousin, who can’t wait to leave town.”

“You know I wish I could stay—”

“Then stay. Because you know what my other option is? Marjorie from work. She likes to party. And by party, I mean build shelters in the woods and try to see how long she can go without coming back to civilization. Her armpit hair hits her elbow, and I don’t think showers are her friend. The rest of my coworkers are guys, and I’m pretty sure Hunt would object to having them stand up for me in dresses.”

She shoots me a pleading look, as if it’s necessary at this point.

“Just give me one night, Whit, and promise me if you have fun tonight, you’ll stay another week. Call it a trial basis. We’ll sort things out with Mom, and my wedding won’t be far off, and you can start the countdown calendar for running away to wherever you want to hide next.”

“Fine. I’ll stay.” What else can I really say to that?

Cricket squeals and reaches over to hug me. The van swerves and I lunge for the steering wheel, but she grabs it before we hit the ditch.

“I’m so glad you see it my way, because I’m actually taking you to get a bridesmaid dress right now so you can’t back out.”

My jaw drops as I look at my cousin—the one person I didn’t think could withhold any information or be remotely sneaky. “You tricked me?”