“Oh, hey! Are you the owners? Man, I am so sorry. My Burban sits high, and I couldn’t see your car in my rear view. I was in a hurry, and I pulled out too far, too fast, and just nailed the back of your car.”

Bear was going to kill us. The whole panel above the bumper was caved in, one taillight was broken, and the trunk had sprung open from the impact.

“I already called the cops because I wasn’t sure if you were in the store or if you’d parked here for a car pool or something and weren’t coming back for a while. There are quite a few people who do that here in Guymon—’course you’re from Tennessee. Guess I should have thought of that. Man, I am so sorry!”

Finn pushed the damaged trunk all the way open and unloaded the basket swiftly, his eyes darting between the adjacent street and the entrances into the Walmart parking lot. He hadn’t said anything to the honest Abe who was wringing his hands and talking non-stop. Then Finn slammed the trunk several times, trying to get it to catch, even though it didn’t quite line up with the latch anymore, causing the agitated driver of the Suburban to pause mid-sentence and frown at Finn in confusion. I slid a folded hundred dollar bill into the man’s wrinkled breast pocket, gave it a pat, stepped by him, and climbed into the passenger seat. Finn slammed the trunk once more and luckily it held. He slid in beside me a second later.

“H-hey! Hey! Don’t you want my insurance information? You can’t just leave! I messed up your car!” he cried.

We backed out, gliding by the dumbfounded man who had pulled the bill I’d given him from his pocket and stood staring down at it, holding an end in each hand. A police cruiser turned onto the street that led to the enormous Walmart parking lot, passing us without a glance just as our light turned green, and we merged into the traffic headed toward the freeway nearby.

“Doesn’t drive any different,” I said optimistically.

“You’re the one who’s telling Bear,” Finn said.

“I CAN’T GET a hold of him. I texted and left a message. I think I’m going to be buying Bear a new car when it’s all said and done. Do you think we need to find some new wheels?” I chewed my lip, and Finn reached over and pulled it from my teeth with his middle finger, making me forget, momentarily, about conspicuous license plates and missing bumpers.

“Where? I’m sure the guy in the Suburban gave the license plate to the police. But he was the one at fault, and judging from what we saw, he’ll take full blame. The police might run the plates, but that will just lead them to Bear. Which is why we need to give him a heads up. He’ll handle it.” Finn was playing the role of the optimist now, apparently. It made me breathe a little easier.

“So what next?”

“Vegas.”

“How far?”

“I don’t know exactly. We’ll be dropping into the northern edge of Texas, and we’ll make New Mexico tonight, but I’ve got to get some gas. We’ll get some things from the trunk and make a plan and figure out how far we’ve got to go.”

Finn used my new phone for a quick Mapquest check, and reported that we still had fourteen hours to go and another four after that to get to LA. We fueled up at a truck stop, using the bathrooms to change into clean clothes. We didn’t eat inside or even go in and out at the same time, trying to lower the odds of being recognized together. We were both nervous and were eager to be away from people, now that the story seemed to have garnered national attention. I’d been on the covers of magazines before, but Finn hadn’t, and I didn’t want him seeing them at every turn. Even as crazy as I knew press coverage could be, I didn’t understand what was happening. Why was my life of such interest? And what could have possibly prompted any magazines to run a story on me and Clyde? And that brought the fear back. How could I be so afraid of losing someone who I’d just found? In less than a week, he had become the only thing that mattered.

We drove for four hours, the day clear and sunny, the temperatures climbing into the low 60s, signaling February was almost behind us, and that we had officially arrived in the desert. Finn listened to all of my albums, remarking on this and that, and he seemed intent on every word, like he couldn’t get enough. He skipped through the songs with heavy instrumentation, perky melodies, and flying fiddles. He seemed drawn to the ballads, the stripped down vocals, and the songs that told a story. It was a little strange for me, listening to myself sing for hours on end, but his intense focus on my voice was almost erotic, and I leaned my seat back and watched him quietly, letting my thoughts wander.

I’d been with Minnie this time last year. I’d gone home for our birthday. Minnie was going through chemo again, and had lost all her hair for the second time. I’d felt guilty that I hadn’t shaved my head with her, like I’d done before, and she’d told me I was ridiculous.

“You’re not required to be my twin in every way, Bonnie. Looking alike is a pain in the butt. Plus, you look a whole lot better than I do right now, so the fact that I look like you, but not nearly as good as you, is a little painful for me.

“It is?” I don’t know why that hurt my feelings. But it did. Minnie must have seen the hurt in my face, because she grabbed my hand and smiled.

“I’ve always loved that we looked alike. I thought it was fun. And I thought you were beautiful—which comforted me. Because if you were beautiful, I must be too,” Minnie soothed.

“I would tell you that you are indeed very beautiful, but that seems a little self-serving.” I lay back on the bed beside her, still holding her hand. We lay quietly for a minute.