WON'T TURN BACK, miyuki kazuya

chapter 12

You make sure to call Lula and let her know what happened; she frets about it, of course, but you tell her not to worry and that if she needs anything, she should call Eijun. You make a note to have him call her to let her know, too. She'll feel better hearing it directly from him.

It isn't long before you're hopping onto I-90 East. The highway narrows into two lanes as you leave city limits and the speed limit jumps from sixty-five to seventy-five. You don't hesitate to push it to eighty. You can't even enjoy the luxury of driving such an expensive car; the smooth drive, the plush seat under you. All you can think about is your mom. Your fingers itch to call her but you don't know if she'll be able to talk to you. You do make sure to send a quick text to your dad, though, letting him know you're on the road.

Seven hours, roughly 400 miles.

It's one in the afternoon now; considering you are also gaining an hour as you drive across time zones, you'll get in at nine. It'll be eight in Seattle.

Time flies by. Eventually you're halfway there, stopping in Spokane to gas up. It's already four.

You pull into a Chevron, up to a free pump. After you've parked and turned off the car, you grab your wallet.

Opening it, you blink as you find Eijun's debit card tucked in there. Initially you think he took yours but closer inspection reveals he just wiggled his in with your debit card, covering it.

You groan. "Eijun, you sneaky little . . ."

You glance out the window, at the pump, with its three buttons for regular grade, mid grade, and premium. Premium is expensive. Five bucks a gallon. Damn.

The thing is, you know he would be incredibly happy if you used it. Like just ecstatic. You'd think you'd found world peace by his reaction.

You laugh to yourself, slipping out his card. Fine. Fine. It's a mutually beneficial situation. You don't have to pay $50 to fill up and he gets a kick out of it.

After gassing up and a quick bathroom break, you're back on the road, digging into some of the snacks you brought along.

You're three hours away from Hazel Crest when your sister calls you.

Your phone is hooked to the bluetooth so you press a button on the wheel to answer.

"Hello?"

"Hey." A pause. She clears her throat. "You, uh, you heard about Mom?"

"I'm three hours away from town."

"Yeah. Dad told me."

"Did he just call you?"

"Nah, nah, he called me earlier but we had to talk about it . . ." We meaning her and her partner.

You tap a finger on the steering wheel. "Are you coming?"

The sigh she releases is staticky in the car speakers.

"I . . . I can't. Not yet. It's just that we. . ." A deep breath. "We . . . are looking to adopt. Two little boys. The social worker is doing a home visit tomorrow and I have to be there. We both do."

Oh, wow.

Your older sister is five years older than you at twenty-nine. After scoring a scholarship to Montana State University, she hightailed it out of Hazel Crest, majoring in accounting; after that, she moved to Minneapolis, Minnesota, where got a job at an auditing firm and met her partner who she's been with for four years already.

And now . . . now she wants to adopt.

You can't say you're all that surprised. Your older sister, for as grumpy and rough around the edges as she can be, is good with kids. Patient.