Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Sterling?” Blair’s knock on their conjoined door is soft and tentative like it has been for the last week. “Sterling?” Blair tries again.

Sterling says nothing and simply rolls over onto her side and pulls the blankets up tighter around herself trying to burrow into the mattress.  

“Mom is making me go to school,” Blairs soft voice comes through the door again. There's silence for a moment as if she’s waiting for Sterling to reply but when no reply comes Blair speaks again. “I’ll come straight home, I promise.” Blair is silent again before she finally speaks again “I love you.” 

Sterling listens and can hear Blair leave her room and walk down the hallway. At the sound of the front door closing Sterling forces herself up right thinking she might finally be alone for the first time that week only to hear yet another knock on her door but this time it’s from the hallway.

“Sterling,” her dad, Anderson’s, voice is hoarse, “your mother and I got you a new phone,” he’s silent for a moment. “I got the kid at the store to set it up like your old one, it’ll be like nothing happened.” He trails off for a moment before continuing, “I have to go but I’ll leave it outside your door okay?” 

It’s silent for a moment and when Sterling doesn’t reply she can hear Anderson walk away.

This time when the front door closes Sterling waits before she’s sure that she is finally alone in the house.

Debbie and Anderson had been mostly respectful of her decision to go into her room and not come out when they finally got home from the police station that night. Blair on the otherhand not so much. While Blair never forced her way into Sterlings room she was constantly knocking on her door and talking to her through the door and insisting that ‘nothing had to change’ not understanding that everything had already changed.

Blair was their actual kid.

Sterling was the secret daughter of a drug addict and who even knows who her biological father was.

Blair was the kid they planned for.

Sterling was just Debbie’s sister's mistake that she had to clean up for.

No.

Everything was different now.

Sterling got out of bed and stretched muscles aching from days of barely moving as she made her way to her door. She opened it up and her new phone was right where her dad, no, where Anderson, had left it. She glances up and down the hallway making sure she was actually alone before returning to her room and shutting her door oncemore.

She drops the bag holding her new phone on her desk and turns back towards the bed. 

Sterling paused by her bed, her hand hovering just above the rumpled sheets. The familiar weight of exhaustion pulled at her, urging her to crawl back under the covers and disappear, but the sensation of grime clinging to her skin was unbearable. Her hair felt greasy, her clothes stiff from sweat and fear. She was still in the same clothes she had been in that night having chosen the sweet release of sleep over taking a shower. A shower. She needed a shower.

With slow, deliberate movements, she peeled the worn T-shirt from her body, the fabric sticking momentarily before coming free. The waistband of her leggings dug into her waist as she pushed them down, leaving them crumpled on the floor. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the back of her door. Dark circles ringed her eyes, her hair tangled and matted in places. The image was almost unrecognizable. She looked like a stranger—a stranger who had just learned that everything she thought she knew was a lie.

Her gaze dropped, and she turned away, unable to face herself any longer.

The bathroom was quiet, the kind of quiet that comes from being alone in a house that wasn’t hers anymore, even if it had been just days ago. The tile was cold under her feet as she stepped inside, the click of the door lock loud in the silence. For a moment, she just stood there, staring at the pristine, white tub, the same one she had used a thousand times before. 

But this time was different. Everything was different now.

She reached for the tap, turning it on and watching as steam began to fill the small room. The sound of water hitting the bottom of the tub was soothing, a sort of white noise. She stepped in, letting the hot water cascade over her, washing away the dirt and sweat and, she hoped, some of the memories.

She closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against the cool tile as the water pounded against her back. The heat was almost scalding, but she welcomed the pain, welcomed anything that could distract her from the storm of emotions swirling inside her. 

But it wasn’t enough. 

Nothing was ever going to be enough.

She pressed her palms against the wall, her shoulders shaking as the first sob escaped her lips. It was a small, choked sound, almost as if she was trying to swallow it back down. But once it started, she couldn’t stop. The tears came hard and fast, mingling with the water streaming down her face, indistinguishable from the droplets that rained down on her.

A strangled cry tore from her throat as she sank to the floor of the tub, her knees pulling up to her chest. The water continued to pour over her, drowning out her sobs.

Sterling pressed her forehead harder against the tile, her sobs coming out in broken gasps. She wanted to scream, to cry out for Blair, for Anderson, for Debbie—for anyone who could tell her who she was supposed to be now. But the words wouldn’t come. The only sound in the room was the relentless rush of water.

She stayed there, huddled on the floor, until the water started to turn cold, the heat finally running out. Even then, she didn’t move. She didn’t know how. She was paralyzed by the weight of the truth, by the realization that nothing would ever be the same again.

Eventually, the water stopped on its own, a timer she had forgotten existed shutting it off. Sterling was left in the silence, the only sound her ragged breathing echoing off the tile walls. She was still drenched, her skin puckered and chilled now that the warmth was gone. But she couldn’t find the strength to get up. She just sat there, hugging her knees to her chest, feeling more alone than she ever had in her life.

Sterling wasn’t sure how long she sat there, lost in the emptiness that filled the room and her heart. But eventually, she knew she had to move. She had to stand up, dry off, and put on clean clothes. 

With a deep, shuddering breath, she pushed herself up, her muscles protesting the movement after so long in one position. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself before leaving the bathroom. 

She robotically started changing into clean clothes grabbing tracksuit pants from her closet and a random tshirt that once she pulled on she saw was her old ‘readathon’ tshirt. 

She’s finally about to get back into bed and hope for the sweet release of sleep when she remembers her phone. She walks back over to her desk where she had placed the bag and opens it up and pulls out her new phone.

Anderson had bought her the exact same model, it looked just like the one Dana had thrown out of the car window and when she turned it on she saw that the store employee had booted it up from the cloud so it also had everything her old phone had. The only difference was the number of missed calls and unread texts. 

She clicks on the missed calls first expecting them to be from Blair and Debbie the night of the kidnapping and they are but to her surpise there are five other missed calls from after that night. 

All from April. 

April couldn’t know. 

The police had told them they would keep it out of the media until Dana’s trial.

Sterling didn’t even want to think about the trial that would be haning over their heads for months, years possibly. 

She just wanted to forget.

So if April didn’t know, why was she calling? She had made her thoughts clear that night on the bench. 

Sterling navigates to her text messages only to see the same thing. While Blair, Debbie and Anderson had stopped messaging after she was rescued, April was still messaging. 

The most recent message was from ten minutes ago while Sterling was having her breakdown in the shower. 

She scrolls up through the messages until she finds the first one sent late Friday night.

[April, Friday, 11:43pm] Sterl, I’m sorry

[April, Friday, 11:43pm] Please understand 

[April, Friday, 11:50pm] Say something

[April, Saturday, 11:02am] Sterling, the lock in is over. Can we please talk?

[April, Saturday, 4:43pm] Sterling, it does not have to go back to the way it was.

[April, Saturday, 4:43] Can we not at least be friends?

[April, Monday, 1:31pm] Sterling Wesley, Queen of perfect attendance is missing school just to avoid me? 

[April, Monday, 1:31pm] Real mature Sterl.

[April, Wednesday, 5:05pm] Sterling, I’m getting worried

[April, Wednesday, 5:06pm] Blair is missing school too.

[April, Wednesday, 5:06pm] Blair I understand though, you not so much.

[April, Wednesday, 5:06pm] Are you okay?

That was when April had made the first call. The first call that went unanswered. 

[April, Thursday, 8:00am] Sterling?

[April, Friday, 2:02 pm] Can you at least tell me you are okay?

The texts and phone calls continue on like that until finally she reads the most recent ones.

[April, Monday, 10:03am] Blair’s back but she is refusing to talk to anyone. 

[April, Monday, 10:03am] What happened? Where are you? 

Sterling's eyes drifted back to the bed, the covers still slightly rumpled from where she'd been lying earlier. She pictures getting back in there and being stuck in this house, this house that wasn’t her home anymore, maybe it never really was, until Anderson or Debbie came back. 

The thought made her stomach twist with nausea. The walls of her room felt like they were closing in, suffocating her with memories that now seemed false, fabricated by people who weren’t really her parents. 

She swallowed hard, trying to push down the rising bile. She couldn’t stay here, not another second. The very thought of it made her want to scream, to tear down the walls with her bare hands until there was nothing left but the truth.

She looks back down at the phone and at all of April's calls, Aprils texts.

Sterling’s thumb hovered over the screen, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t have a plan, didn’t know where she would go, but she knew she couldn’t stay here.

Before she could second-guess herself, she pressed the call button.

The phone rang only once before April’s voice burst through the speaker, loud and frantic. “Sterling!” There was a pause, the sound of April taking a deep breath before her tone softened. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Sterling hesitated, her mind racing. She could tell April everything, pour out the truth in a flood of words and tears, but the thought of reliving it all made her throat tighten. Instead, she chose a different path, one that had just formed in the back of her mind, a wild, reckless idea that was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

“Run away with me.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them, raw and desperate.

There was a long silence on the other end of the line, the kind of silence that felt like it could stretch on forever. Sterling’s heart pounded in her ears, the seconds dragging by as she waited for April’s response.

Finally, April’s voice came through, cautious and confused. “Pardon?”

Sterling closed her eyes, forcing herself to take a breath, to find the courage to say it again. 

“I’m running away. Do you want to come with me?” Her voice wavered, a plea wrapped in the guise of a question.

The silence returned, but this time it was different. She could almost hear the gears turning in April’s mind, the weight of the decision pressing down on both of them.

Finally, April spoke, her voice softer now, laced with something Sterling couldn’t quite place. “Where would we go?”

Sterling opened her eyes, her grip on the phone tightening. She hadn’t thought that far ahead, hadn’t considered the logistics, but that wasn’t what mattered right now. What mattered was getting away, leaving behind everything that was suffocating her, even if she didn’t know where she was running to.

“Anywhere but here,” Sterling whispered, her voice trembling. “I just need to get out, April. I can’t stay here. I can’t—” Her voice broke, the weight of everything she was trying to escape crashing down on her all at once.

April was silent again, but Sterling could hear her breathing, could almost feel her presence through the phone. The connection between them was like a lifeline, something real in a world that suddenly felt so fake.

“Okay,” April said finally, her voice firm despite the uncertainty that Sterling knew they both felt. “I’ll come with you.”

Sterling let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, a rush of relief washing over her. “Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes stinging with the tears she had been holding back.

“When?” April asked.

Sterling looked around her room one last time, taking in the familiar, yet now alien surroundings. “Now,” she said, her voice steadier than before. “I’ll meet you at the gas station about a mile from the school in thirty minutes,” she pauses “can you get there?”

April hesitated for just a moment before she replied. “Yes.” 

Sterling ended the call and tossed the phone onto the bed and left it there. She had tracked enough phones with Bowser to know that the phone couldn’t come with her. Not if she wanted to stay gone. 

And she did.

She grabbed a backpack from her closet and began shoving clothes into it, her movements frantic but purposeful. When she was finished packing she shouldered the backpack and headed for the door. The house was quiet, the only sound her footsteps echoing in the stillness.

She hesitated by the front door before reaching out and grabbing Debbie’s car keys. 

She started opening the door before she realised she had just been kidnapped a week ago. If she wanted to run away without all of Atlanta’s police department looking for her (she was a young, white, female teenager afterall) she had to leave a note. 

She let out a breath and walked towards the kitchen. She reached for the shopping list pinned to the fridge, her fingers trembling as she peeled it off. Debbie’s neat handwriting covered the small sheet.

Sterling grabbed the magnetized pen and hovered it over the paper, the tip barely grazing the surface. What should she write? What could she possibly say to explain why she was leaving without a word? 

After a moment of agonizing indecision, she scrawled out a quick message: “Not kidnapped. Don’t look for me.” The words felt inadequate, but what more could she say? She started to put the pen down, but something gnawed at her, a lingering guilt that wouldn’t let her go. She picked the pen back up, her hand shaking as she added, “Tell Blair I’m sorry.”

The apology sat there, stark and final on the page. It wasn’t enough, not by a long shot, but it was all she could manage. Sterling placed the pen back on the counter with a finality that echoed in the quiet house. She turned on her heel and walked toward the front door, forcing herself not to look back, not to think about what she was leaving behind.

She hesitated again when she reached the car forcing herself to push away the memoris that came from looking at, getting into the same car that Dana had kidnapped her. 

There was no going back now. 

So she opened up the door and got in. 

The drive to the gas station was a blur, the city streets passing by in a haze of motion and color. Peak hour was long over, the roads nearly empty as she navigated through the familiar streets. Her mind was elsewhere, focused on the task ahead, on the thought of seeing April again.

When she pulled into the gas station, she scanned the lot, her heart beating faster when she spotted April standing by the pump.

April’s eyes widened when she saw Sterling, her expression immediately shifting to concern. She hurried over to the car as Sterling stepped out, her voice a mix of urgency and worry. 

“Sterling, what is going on?”

Sterling avoided her gaze, focusing instead on the pavement beneath her feet. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said to the pavement. “Let's just go.” voice barely above a whisper. 

April reached out, her hand brushing Sterling’s arm, her grip gentle but firm. “Sterling, you’re scaring me. Just tell me what’s happening.”

Sterling bit her lip, fighting back the urge to break down. She didn’t want to drag April into the mess that her life had become. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “I’m serious, April. I can’t talk about it. Not now. Can we just go?”

April’s hand lingered on Sterling’s arm for a moment longer before she let it fall, her concern still etched on her face. She studied Sterling, her eyes searching for answers that Sterling wasn’t ready to give. But she must have seen something in Sterling’s expression, something that told her to let it go, at least for now.

“Okay,” April said softly, her voice filled with reluctant acceptance.

They got back into the car, and Sterling drove the short distance to April’s house so that April could pack her own bag. The streets seemed too quiet, as if the whole world had gone on pause, waiting for something to happen.

Sterling pulls into April's driveway, the gravel crunching under the tires as the car comes to a stop. She reaches for the door handle, ready to get out, but April’s voice stops her in her tracks.

“Don’t,” April says, shaking her head. “Wait in the car.”

Sterling’s hand drops from the handle, her fingers lingering in the air for a moment before she nods.

April lets out a visible sigh of relief, and Sterling watches as she gets out of the car, her steps quick and purposeful as she heads toward the front door.

Left alone again, Sterling’s thoughts begin to swirl, a chaotic mix of fear, anger, and sadness that threatens to overwhelm her. She stares at the dashboard, trying to focus on the mundane details - the way the leather seats creak as she shifts, the faint smell of air freshener that clings to the car. But it’s no use. The quiet only amplifies the emotions inside her.

Her gaze drifts to the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of herself—pale, exhausted, eyes ringed with dark circles. She barely recognizes the girl staring back at her. Who is she now? Certainly not the Sterling she was just a few days ago. That girl had a family, a twin, a life that made sense. Now, everything feels fractured, like she’s piecing together a puzzle with missing pieces.

Thankfully, April returns with a duffel  bag thrown over her shoulder less than 15 minutes later. April opens the door but stops before getting in. 

“Sterling… are you sure about this?” April didn’t press for details, didn’t push for answers. It was just a simple question, and the way she asked it made Sterling’s heart ache even more.

Sterling swallowed hard and nodded. “I’m sure. I just… I need to get away.” The words felt inadequate, but they were the best she could offer.

April nodded and got into the car. “Okay. Then let’s go.”

Sterling starts the car, the engine’s low rumble filling the silence between them. She puts it into reverse, her foot hovering over the gas pedal. Just as she’s about to back out of the driveway, a thought strikes her. She stops suddenly and turns to April, her eyes wide with concern.

“Did you leave a note?” she asks, her voice a little too sharp in the stillness.

April shakes her head, and Sterling’s hand moves to the ignition, ready to turn the car off so April can run back inside. But April reaches out, stopping her.

“My parents aren’t home,” she says, her voice steady, though there’s something in her tone that Sterling can’t quite place. “So nobody will even realize I’m gone,” April hesitates for a fraction of a second before adding, “other than Ezekiel and Hannah B, but they wouldn’t mention it.”

Sterling’s mind races, the words swirling around in her head, creating more questions than answers. But she remembers how April has been so gentle, so careful not to pry when Sterling shut down. She owes her the same courtesy.

Sterling nods again, keeping her questions to herself, and puts the car back into reverse. She backs out of the driveway, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as they pull onto the street.

For a while, they drive in silence. The soft hum of the engine and the rhythmic thud of the tires against the pavement are the only sounds in the car. Sterling focuses on the road, her eyes fixed on the horizon as they merge onto the highway. The city begins to fall away, replaced by open fields and distant mountains. The further they go, the more the tightness in her chest begins to ease.

She can feel April’s eyes on her from time to time, a quiet, unspoken concern that hangs in the air between them. But April doesn’t say anything, doesn’t push her for answers she’s not ready to give. Instead, she simply sits there, her presence a steady, comforting anchor in the midst of the storm.

As they speed down the I-85, the miles slipping away behind them, Sterling’s grip on the steering wheel relaxes just a little.

It’s two hours later that Sterling spots yet another sign for a gas station but this time she speaks.

“We need to stop and get cash,” she says, breaking the silence.

April glances over at her, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Cash?”

Sterling nods, her fingers gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.  “They can track bank cards.”

April’s confusion deepens, her voice echoing Sterling’s words. “They?”

Sterling’s heart skips a beat, her mind racing. She’s on the verge of blurting out ‘Bowser’ or ‘Yolanda,’ letting the secret of their bounty hunting slip, but she catches herself just in time. 

April doesn’t know.

April can’t know.

She forces herself to stay calm, to keep the answer simple. “The police can track bank cards.” The answer is true but the police aren’t who she’s worried about. Blair would be asking Bower to track her card the minute she knew Sterling had run away. 

“The police aren’t going to care enough to track our bank cards.” April lets out a laugh “I’m surprised you even know they can do that.”

“Hey! I know stuff!” Sterling responds indignitly and luckily there is no need to explain that she wouldn’t have known until she started bounty hunting as April simply lets out a soft laugh and lets it go. 

As they pull into the gas station, Sterling flicks the switch to open the fuel cap, then steps out of the car. The air is cool against her skin, a welcome contrast to the stuffiness inside the vehicle. April follows her out, glancing around the deserted lot.

Sterling lifts her hand in a casual wave to the guy filling up his truck at the next pump, then turns her attention to the task at hand. The smell of gasoline fills the air as she begins to pump fuel into the car. The rhythmic clinking of the gas nozzle is oddly soothing.

“Do you want to go get us snacks?” she asks, her eyes flicking over to April. “And see if there is an ATM in there. It’ll be less suspicious than getting the cash from the teller.” 

April nods slowly, her expression thoughtful. Sterling can tell from the look in her eyes that April’s patience is wearing thin. She’s been avoiding questions, keeping things surface-level, but she knows that won’t last much longer. April likes knowing things, she likes solving mysteries and right now everything about Sterling is a mystery to her. 

As April heads toward the gas station, Sterling finishes filling the tank and replaces the nozzle. She walks into the gas station and is hit immediately with the cool airconditioned air. 

Her eyes land on a display of trucker caps, each one emblazoned with ‘Greenville, SC’ in bold letters. The realization hits her—she’s crossed state lines without even noticing. The thought is both exhilarating and terrifying. 

She looks away from the display and spots April standing by the ATM, her back to the door. Sterling starts toward her, the sound of the doorbell ringing behind her signaling another customer’s arrival.

She glances back, her gaze falling on the man from the pump outside as he strides in, heading straight for the fridge to grab a soft drink. Sterling’s heart skips a beat, a flicker of anxiety tightening her chest. She turns her attention back to April, who’s noticed her approach.

“Did you get your cash?” She asks as she comes to a stop next to April. 

April nods and Sterling pulls out her own card, hesitating  for a moment, her stomach knotting as she punches in her PIN. The screen flashes, and the ATM whirs as it spits out bills, the crisp, folded money feeling heavier than it should. This is the last of it, the bounty hunting money she and Blair had painstakingly saved. The thought of using it for this - for running away - feels like a betrayal. She can only hope that one day Blair would forgive her for this. 

Forgive her for running, forgive her for using their money to do it. 

Sterling tucks her wad of cash into her pocket before she turns to face April, forcing a smile. “Did you find us some snacks?” 

April shakes her head “Not yet,” she pauses, her gaze searching Sterling’s face. “Sterl, we should talk…”

Sterling’s heart skips a beat, panic flaring in her chest. She shakes her head quickly, the movement sharp and desperate, cutting off April’s words. “We should, we should get snacks.” 

Without waiting for a response, Sterling turns on her heel and heads for the snack aisle. She grabs items indiscriminately, her hands moving on autopilot. Chips, candy bars, pretzels—anything that catches her eye, as long as it’s not the sour patch kids. 

When she finally glances back at April, she finds her standing by the fridge, a bottle of water in her hand, her eyes fixed on Sterling. 

April wants to talk, to pry open the secrets Sterling has been so carefully keeping, but Sterling just… can’t . 

It’s almost funny, in a twisted sort of way. The roles have reversed so completely. Just over a week ago, it was Sterling who wanted to talk, to be open about everything, while April clung to her secrets, insisting on keeping things hidden. It would be funny if it didn’t hurt so much.

“Lets pay.” Sterling says instead as she pulls a Dr Pepper from the fridge the cold seeping into her palm as she holds it tightly. 

April doesn’t say anything but she follows behind Sterling to the cashier. April stands just a step behind Sterling, holding her bottle of water as if she intends to pay for it herself. Sterling notices and, without a word, reaches back to take the bottle from her hands.

April lets out a soft, surprised “Hey,” but April’s reflex to protest quickly dissolves as she watches Sterling place the bottle down on the counter along with the other snacks.

The cashier rings up the snacks and adds on the price of the petrol and Sterling carefully counts the exact change before thanking the cashier and walking out of the store.

They both settle into their seats in the car, and Sterling fumbles with her seatbelt, her hand reaching for the key in the ignition.

Before she can start the engine, April turns to look at her, the intensity in her gaze impossible to ignore. “Okay,” April says, her tone calm but firm, freezing Sterling’s hand in mid-motion. “You don’t want to talk, and I’m letting that go.” She pauses, and Sterling can feel the weight of the words that are about to follow. “For now.” April emphasizes those last two words, making it clear that this reprieve from questions is only temporary. “But I cannot sit in silence again while you have your mental breakdown. Can you at least play some music?”

Sterling blushes, her cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and guilt. “Yes, sorry, music,” she stammers, reaching to flick on the radio. The static that fills the car is jarring, a harsh reminder that they’re far from home. She fiddles with the frequency, hoping to find something, anything, but the reality sets in quickly.  If they are going to keep driving the radio would keep cutting out. 

“There are some CDs in the compartment in front of your seat,” Sterling suggests, her voice laced with resignation as she gives up on the radio.

April lets out a soft laugh, the sound a brief reprieve from the tension. “CDs? What year are we in? Just use your phone.” Her tone is light, teasing, but the comment makes Sterling’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

“I didn’t bring my phone,” Sterling admits quietly, bracing herself for April’s reaction.

April’s eyes widen slightly in surprise, and Sterling can see the questions forming in her mind. But April, to Sterling’s relief, shakes it off with a small sigh, choosing not to push further. Instead, she opens the glove compartment and rummages through it, eventually pulling out an old ‘Red’ CD that Sterling had completely forgotten was in there.

As April said, it was 2019 and Sterling didn’t even remember the last time she had actually used the CD player in the Volt. Instead prefering to connect her phone via the AUX cord. 

She watches as April slides the CD into the player, the familiar sounds of Taylor Swift filling the car moments later.  The music is a comfort, a reminder of simpler times, and for a moment, it almost feels like everything is okay. Sterling starts the car, and as they pull out of the gas station, she accidentally drives over the curb. The jolt makes her wince, but she tries to shake it off.

“You and Blair really need to learn how to drive.” April says sarcastically before reaching out to increase the volume.

They drive peacefully to the sound of Taylor singing but by the time Taylor starts singing about the famous person who disappeared due to the cost of fame (The Lucky One, one of Sterlings favourtie songs from the album, beaten only by ‘All too Well’) April’s patience wears thin. Sterling can sense it before it happens, a subtle shift in the air, the way April’s fingers tap restlessly against her knee. When April reaches out to lower the volume, Sterling’s half-hearted protest dies on her lips.

“Seriously,” April scoffs, her voice cutting through the music. “Are you not going to tell me where we’re going? Why we’re going?”

Sterling stares out at the road ahead, the I-85 stretching endlessly before them. The road is a blur of gray, punctuated by the occasional highway sign or passing car. The scenery around them seems to blur into one continuous strip of land, each mile blending into the next. It’s the kind of road that could take them anywhere—or nowhere at all. She shrugs, still not meeting April's gaze. “I don’t know,” she admits quietly. “I’m just driving. Do you have any suggestions?” She glances at the green signs overhead, the names of distant cities flickering by. “Eventually, this direction will get us to Washington, though.”

She shrugs. Not sure if the decision had even consciously been made to drive towards Washington, she just knew that even if they reached Washington it still wouldn’t be far enough away from all the lies. 

The mention of Washington sparks something in April. “Washington?!” Her voice lifts with a hint of excitement, a spark of the girl who once made flashcards of all the presidents (and a fun fact about each of them) in fifth grade just for fun. For a second, Sterling thinks she’s found a distraction, something to steer the conversation away from the heavy truths she’s trying to avoid.

But the excitement fades just as quickly as it came. April’s expression sobers, and she fixes Sterling with a look that’s equal parts concern and frustration. “Why are we running away?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and loaded with all the things Sterling doesn’t want to confront. She keeps her eyes on the road, watching the lines on the asphalt blur together, a silent representation of the mess in her mind. 

But instead of saying any of that, Sterling shrugs again, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “I don’t know,” she repeats, the words feeling hollow in her mouth. “I just… I need to get away. From everything.”

April doesn’t respond right away, and the silence that follows is thick, uncomfortable. Sterling can feel April’s eyes on her, waiting, expecting more.

“I need more than that,” April says eventually as‘The Lucky One’ transitions into ‘Everything has Changed.’ 

Sterling lets out a sigh and rubs at her face as the road blurs ahead of her. She knows she owes April something more, some semblance of the truth. April had gotten into the car with her, despite everything, despite the break up (if a one week relationship ending even counts as a break up) and the secrets Sterling is still hiding. It’s a loyalty Sterling doesn’t quite understand, but she can’t ignore it.

“Have you ever felt trapped?” Sterling asks, her voice sounding small in the enclosed space. She glances over at April, catching the look on her face that clearly reads, Seriously? Sterling doesn’t wait for April to voice it. “Dumb question, sorry.” She adjusts her grip on the steering wheel as the traffic ahead starts to build, the once open road now congested as the afternoon peak hour begins to take hold.

The words she wants to say stick in her throat, a tangled mess of half-formed thoughts and emotions she’s not ready to confront. But she knows she can’t keep running forever, not without giving April some kind of explanation. The night of the lock-in flashes through her mind, the moment everything started unraveling.

“The night of the lock-in,” Sterling begins, her voice faltering. She hesitates, her fingers tapping nervously against the wheel. “I found out some things. About… about my - ” She stops, the word sticking like a thorn in her mouth. “Family,” she finally says, the word tasting bitter on her tongue. “And now, now, everything is different.”

She glances over at April again, gauging her reaction, but all she sees is concern, not judgment. The kind of concern that makes Sterling’s chest tighten, because it’s the last thing she wants - someone else to worry about her, someone else to care when she’s not even sure she can handle it herself.

The road ahead continues to narrow as cars merge into their lane, the congestion forcing them to slow down. The sky outside is a dull gray, the sun hidden behind a thick layer of clouds that matches Sterling’s mood. She can feel the weight of April’s silence beside her, waiting for more, waiting for the truth. But Sterling isn’t sure how much more she can give without everything spilling out, messy and uncontrolled.

“Different how?” April finally asks, her voice gentle, like she’s trying to coax the words out of Sterling without pushing too hard.

Sterling swallows hard, the lump in her throat making it difficult to speak. “Just… different.” It’s not enough, she knows it, but it’s all she can manage. “I can’t be there anymore, not after… everything.”

She braces herself, knowing that April is about to ask for more details, for an explanation she’s not ready to give. But when April finally speaks, it’s not at all what Sterling expects.

“So,” April starts, her voice lighter than before, “Lorna and Franklin hooked up at the lock-in.”

Sterling blinks, momentarily thrown off by the sudden shift in conversation. Relief washes over her, quickly followed by confusion. “Wait,” she says, a small smile breaking across her face, “How did you find out?” She knew she had walked in on something but she was just surprised that April knew about it.

April giggles, the sound soft and genuine. “They got caught by Ellen. She let out a squeal so loud it woke up Hannah B.”

Sterling can’t help but laugh, the tension in her chest easing for the first time in what feels like days. She glances over at April, grateful for the reprieve, for the way April seems to know exactly when to pull back. The conversation shifts into lighter territory, and Sterling clings to it like a lifeline, letting herself be drawn into the gossip and stories from Willingham that she’s missed.

As they drive, the scenery around them blurs into the background, the miles slipping away as the I-85 turns into the I-95 and April fills her in on the drama of their high school. A surprising amount of things have happened in just one week while Sterling was holed up in her room, drowning in the weight of her own thoughts.

The road is illuminated by the soft, yellow glow of streetlights as Sterling drives into the parking lot of an old, rundown motel in Richmond, Virginia. The dashboard clock reads 7:00 PM, but it feels much later. The day has stretched out endlessly, every hour laden with the weight of everything that’s happened.

Sterling pulls into a parking spot and turns off the engine, the sudden silence inside the car feeling almost oppressive. She glances over at April, whose face is partially shadowed in the dim light.

“We should… we should take a break,” Sterling says, her voice quieter than she intended. She can feel the exhaustion tugging at her, both physical and emotional. “Eat and sleep.”

April turns to look at her, concern etched in her features, but she doesn’t argue. Sterling knows it’s still technically early, but the thought of pushing forward any further tonight feels impossible. This is the most she’s done in one day since that Friday night when everything shattered. The entire week after, she’d barely left her bed, getting up only to eat and use the bathroom, and even then, she’d eaten in bed, too exhausted to do anything else.

Sterling’s hands linger on the steering wheel, gripping it tightly as if she needs the anchor. Her body is screaming for rest, but her mind is still running a mile a minute, replaying the events of the past week in an endless loop. She can’t shake the feeling of being untethered, as if she’s floating somewhere between reality and a nightmare.

April finally nods, breaking the silence. “Yeah, okay. We’ll stop here.” She doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t push, and Sterling is grateful for that.

They get out of the car, and the cool evening air is a sharp contrast to the stuffiness inside the vehicle. The motel looks as tired as Sterling feels - faded paint, a flickering neon sign that barely spells out VACANCY , and a parking lot littered with a few other cars.

Sterling walks around to the trunk, grabbing their bags while April heads toward the small office to check them in. The gravel crunches under her feet, and for a moment, the sound is the only thing she can focus on. It grounds her, gives her something tangible to hold onto.

When April returns with a key, they head to their room—number 13, the paint peeling around the edges of the door. Inside, the room is just as she expected - plain, a bit dingy, with two small beds covered in floral bedspreads that have seen better days. The air smells faintly of stale cigarette smoke, despite the non-smoking sign on the wall, and the dim light from the bedside lamp casts long shadows across the room.

Sterling drops her bag onto one of the beds and sits down heavily, the mattress sagging under her weight. “This place is…” she starts, searching for the right word, “quaint?”

April snorts, tossing her bag onto the other bed. “Quaint is one word for it.” April pulls her cardigan from her bag before turning to face Sterling. “I’ll go grab us something to eat from that diner we passed on the way in. You should rest.”

Sterling considers arguing, insisting that she can go with April, but her body protests at the thought of moving any more tonight. Instead, she nods, grateful for the reprieve. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

April heads out, leaving Sterling alone in the room.She kicks off her shoes and lies back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The weight of everything presses down on her, the familiar lump in her throat returning as her thoughts spiral.

Thirty minutes pass before the sound of the motel door creaking open jolts her from her spiraling thoughts. April steps into the room, holding a brown takeaway bag in her hands. She pauses in the doorway, her eyes flicking over Sterling.

“Did you move at all?” April’s voice cuts through the thick silence, the soft slam of the door behind her punctuating the question.

Sterling forces herself to sit up, avoiding April’s gaze as she brushes a hand through her hair. “I took my shoes off,” she mutters, her voice tight, trying to sound casual, though it feels far from it. The walls suddenly seem to close in a little tighter, the space between her and April shrinking with every second.

They had been in the car together for hours, but now, in the silence of the room, Sterling feels the weight of April’s presence in a way she hadn’t before. There’s no distraction of the road, no music to drown out the tension. 

It’s just them. 

And it hits her all at once—she’s alone with April. April, who’d toyed with her emotions, flirted with Luke right in front of her. But April, who had also cared enough to come. Cared enough to stay.

Sterling’s heart pounds in her chest, and she doesn’t know whether it’s anger or gratitude or both that’s making it so hard to breathe.

April moves toward the small desk in the corner of the room, her footsteps soft on the thin carpet. She drops the takeaway bag onto the surface with a dull thud and turns to face Sterling. Her expression is unreadable, her voice steady when she finally speaks.

“I got you their All American Breakfast deal,” April says, her lips curving into a faint smile, “since you like breakfast food so much.”

Sterling’s eyes flick to the bag, the smell of eggs and bacon filling the room, but she can’t bring herself to care about food right now. But April’s small gesture, the softness in her voice - it chips away at the wall Sterling has been building around herself since that night.

“Thanks,” Sterling says quietly, her voice a little steadier now, but her emotions are still a mess. 

She glances up at April, their eyes meeting for just a second before she looks away, afraid that if she holds the gaze for too long, she might say something she’s not ready to.

Sterling stands up from the bed and moves toward the small desk, tugging the rickety chair out from under it. It squeaks against the floor as she pulls it, and for a moment, she hesitates, realizing that there’s only one chair in the room. She glances between it and the beds, unsure of what to say. “Oh, um,” she starts, awkwardly gesturing to the chair, feeling the weight of the silence between them. She’s about to offer it to April when April cuts her off, her voice steady but distant.

“I’ll sit on the bed,” April says, not meeting Sterling’s eyes as she reaches into the takeaway bag. She pulls out a small box, probably her usual chicken burger, and crosses to her bed, the springs creaking softly as she sits down.

Sterling exhales, a little relieved, and nods even though April isn’t looking at her. “Okay.” She sits down in the chair, the legs wobbling slightly as she settles in, and starts unpacking her own food. The smell of grease and eggs wafts up from the box, but her appetite isn’t really there. Still, she picks at it, grateful for something to focus on other than the tension in the room.

The silence stretches between them again, thick and heavy. Sterling stabs at her food with a plastic fork, her mind spinning with everything she’s been holding back, everything she wishes she could say but can’t. April doesn’t push, though, and they eat in near silence, save for the occasional rustle of wrappers or the quiet clink of plastic utensils against the boxes.

After a while, April wipes her hands on a napkin and glances over at Sterling, her expression unreadable. “I’m gonna take a shower,” she says, her tone casual, but there’s something beneath it, something Sterling can’t quite place.

Sterling looks up from her half-eaten meal, nodding as she tries to offer a small smile. “Okay,” she says, her voice softer than she means for it to be.

April stands, grabbing her things and heading toward the small, dingy bathroom at the back of the room. Sterling watches her go, the door creaking as it closes behind her.

Sterling finishes her meal in slow, methodical bites, her mind far from the bland taste of the food. She stands up, tossing the empty takeout boxes and wrappers into the trash, the soft crinkle of the paper the only sound in the room. It feels almost too loud in the quiet, making her wince slightly as she heads to the foot of the bed where her bag is slumped. She unzips it and pulls out her pajamas - an old, soft top and a pair of well-worn shorts.

She didn’t see the point in having another shower having had a long one just that morning and it had come with a bonus breakdown which she did not wish to repeat again. 

As the sound of the shower continues in the background, Sterling changes quickly into her PJ’s, trying to avoid the awkwardness of being caught half-dressed. Her discarded clothes land in a messy pile on the floor, and suddenly, she feels out of place. There’s nothing to do. No TV, no books, no distractions. Her thoughts start to drift back to the weight of everything that had happened, but she forces herself not to linger there.

The bathroom door creaks open, and Sterling’s eyes snap toward the sound. April steps out, her hair damp, but thankfully fully dressed in comfortable clothes - a pair of leggings and a loose hoodie. Sterling feels her face heat up anyway. She stumbles to stand, brushing at her pajama shorts awkwardly as if they were suddenly too short.

It takes her a minute to find her voice.“Uh, hey,” Sterling says, her voice coming out a bit too high. “Did you, um, have a good shower?” She mentally cringes at the question. What does that even mean?

April looks over at her with an amused smile, still toweling off the ends of her hair. “Yeah, it was fine.” She raises an eyebrow, noticing Sterling’s fidgeting. “You okay?”

Sterling nods too quickly. “Yup, fine. Totally fine.” She moves over to the bed, her hands nervously fiddling with the hem of her pajama top. The room suddenly feels smaller, warmer, and Sterling can’t seem to figure out what to do with her hands. She sits on the edge of her bed, watching April out of the corner of her eye.

April glances at her, seeming to pick up on the awkward energy but doesn’t push. “You look like you’re about to bolt,” April says lightly, sitting on her own bed and pulling a brush through her damp hair.

Sterling forces a laugh. “No, no bolting.” She tries to smile, but it feels shaky. Her eyes keep flicking over to April, who’s sitting there so casually, hair glistening, her movements so relaxed. Sterling feels the tension knotting in her stomach—she’s not sure if it’s leftover anxiety from everything or something else entirely.

April glances at her again, her eyes lingering just a second too long, before breaking the moment with a casual, “You sure?”

Sterling swallows and nods, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. “Yeah, just… tired. Long day.” 

April just hums in response, giving a small smile. “Yeah, long day,” she echoes, but her tone is soft, almost like she understands more than she’s letting on.

Sterling clears her throat, desperate to break the tension. “I think I’m just gonna - uh - lay down.” She slips under the covers quickly, turning her back toward April.

“Good call,” April says quietly, and the sound of her moving around the room fills the quiet.

Sterling closes her eyes, trying to focus on her breathing, willing her heart to slow down. But even as she lies there, she can still feel April’s presence on the other side of the room, like a weight she can’t quite ignore.

Sterling jerks awake, her heart racing as remnants of the nightmare cling to her. Her eyes flicker to the dim glow of the green digits on the clock: 2:13 a.m. The room is bathed in a faint light from the streetlamp outside, casting long shadows across the floor. Sterling can feel her pulse in her throat, the cold sweat on her skin as she tries to calm herself. She blinks, forcing herself to breathe slowly.

She closes her eyes, willing herself to slip back into unconsciousness, but her mind betrays her, replaying the memory of that night over and over again. Her stomach churns as the thought of Blair flits through her mind - how would she have reacted coming home to find Sterling gone? She has barely any guilt for leaving her parents but Blair, while apparently not her wombmate, is still an innocent bystander. 

She lies there in the quiet, staring up at the ceiling. The ticking of her thoughts is too loud to drown out. Every passing hour seems to stretch further as her restlessness builds. Every time she closes her eyes, it’s as if she’s still in Atlanta - still trapped by the weight of what she’s running from. Too close to the lies. Too close to the truth she can’t face.

By the time the sky outside begins to lighten, and April stirs in the bed next to hers, Sterling feels like she’s been holding her breath for hours. The clock reads 6:00 a.m, and April yawns and stretches before slowly sitting up.

"Morning," April says groggily, her voice thick with sleep. She doesn’t seem to notice Sterling’s tension, or if she does, she doesn’t comment on it right away.

Sterling pushes the covers off and stands quickly, her movements sharp, restless. "We should go," she says, her voice a little too rushed. She avoids looking directly at April, instead focusing on packing her things with jittery hands.

April frowns, watching her for a moment before responding, “Sterl, it’s barely dawn. What’s the rush?”

Sterling hesitates, her back to April as she stuffs her clothes into her bag. “No rush, we are both awake so what's the point of staying?” She lies. 

April is skeptical when she replies but she puts up no argument and instead joins Sterling in getting ready to leave the Motel. 

As they leave the room and step out into the cool morning air, Sterling feels the chill bite at her skin, but it’s a relief compared to the suffocating heat of her thoughts inside. The world is quiet, the early light casting a pale glow over the empty parking lot. The feeling of being too close to home still lingers, but at least they’re moving. That’s what matters.

She grips the car keys tightly in her hand as they make their way to the car, the only sound is the crunch of gravel under their feet.

“Do you want me to drive?” April asks, pausing with her hand resting on the passenger door handle.

Sterling shakes her head, feeling the tension in her shoulders. She’s exhausted, but the thought of not being in control of the wheel makes her chest tighten. April, sensing her reluctance, doesn’t push. With a quiet nod, she gets into the passenger seat. Sterling exhales and follows suit, sliding into the driver’s seat

When Sterling starts the engine, the car jerks forward - she’s forgotten the handbrake. Her face flushes with embarrassment as she quickly remedies the mistake, glancing sideways to see if April noticed. She had, of course, but April just gives her a small smile and says nothing, letting the awkward moment pass without comment. Sterling bites her lip and shifts the car out of the parking lot, merging back onto I-95.

The early morning sun is barely a pale glow on the horizon, casting the highway in long shadows. It’s quiet, except for the hum of the engine and the occasional car that speeds by. April leans forward, fiddling with the compartment under the dash, before triumphantly pulling out a worn, dusty CD case (So Fresh Hits from ‘09.)  She inspects it with amusement.

“No offense to Taylor, but I cannot listen to Red on repeat for another day.” April says and doesn’t wait for Sterling’s response, popping out the old CD and sliding in the new one.

As the upbeat tunes of 2009 begin to fill the car, Sterling relaxes her grip on the wheel slightly. She glances at April, who is tapping her fingers against her thigh to the beat of a pop song that had been overplayed a decade ago. There’s something grounding about April’s presence right now, her presence pushing back against the thoughts threatening to consume Sterling.

“If we keep following this road,” Sterling starts, her voice sounding too loud in the stillness of the car, “we should hit Washington in just over two hours.” She allows herself a small smile, a rare moment of lightness in the fog of her thoughts. “Do you want to explore?”

Sterling has no doubt that April would like to explore Washginton DC. Sterling had never met anyone as invested in Poltics as April and not just because of the real consequences of politics. April was just genuinely intrigued by both political history and political theory. April could make an entire debate out of a random policy that Sterling could barely remember.

When they were younger, Sterling had endured hours of The West Wing on April’s insistence, watching April get worked up over scenes that barely registered with her.

“Yes!” April’s face lights up, her smile wide and genuine before she tamps it down, trying to appear more composed. 

Sterling’s smile grows as she watches April’s excitement bubble over. It’s the first time since they’d left that Sterling feels something other than the gnawing dread that’s been following her like a shadow. It’s fleeting, but it’s there, a glimpse of what their road trip could have been under different circumstances.

Sterling flicks her eyes back to the road, a familiar guilt settling in her chest. April didn’t know the full story - didn’t know what Sterling was running from, and why this trip was more than just a spontaneous escape. April didn’t know about the bounty hunting, about the mess Sterling had found herself in. 

But she couldn’t tell her. Not now.

Not when the tension between them had eased, not when April looked so hopeful.

April catches her eye, her smile softening as if sensing Sterling’s hesitation. "You okay?" she asks, her voice gentle but probing.                         

Sterling swallows and forces a nod. "Yeah," she says, a little too quickly. "I'm fine."

April raises an eyebrow, not convinced, but she lets it go.

The sky is an expanse of muted blue as Sterling drives into Washington, D.C., the city skyline gradually coming into view. April is beside her, eyes fixed on the road ahead with a quiet intensity. Sterling’s fingers tap restlessly against the steering wheel. The weight of the silence presses against her chest.

The first stop is the Jefferson Memorial, and Sterling slows the car as they approach. April leans forward slightly, her lips pressed in what Sterling recognizes as her “I’m impressed but won’t say it” face.

“So, Jefferson?” Sterling starts, awkwardly.

April nods, her tone clipped but informative. “Author of the Declaration of Independence. Complicated legacy, though. All men are created equal, except for the slaves he owned.”

Sterling chews on the inside of her cheek, unsure how to respond, so she simply murmurs, “Right.”

They exit the car, and April is already a few steps ahead, walking with purpose toward the monument, her arms folded tight across her chest. Sterling trails behind, hands stuffed in her pockets, glancing up at the marble statue of Jefferson as if it might give her a clue about what to say. April, of course, is the one who wants to read every plaque and absorb every bit of history. Sterling shifts her weight awkwardly, unsure of where to stand or what to do with her hands. As April skims through some passage about Jefferson's influence on the American republic, Sterling’s mind starts drifting back towards that night and the taste of Dana’s pantyhose in her mouth she winces instinctively before glancing over at April to see if she had noticed her reaction.

"You're staring," April says, without turning around, her voice clipped but not unkind. "If you're bored, we can move on."

Sterling's face flushes. "No, no, I'm fine. I’m just… thinking."

April doesn't push further too focused on reading the plaques.

When they finish walking around the memorial, the Tidal Basin stretches out in front of them, calm and reflective, framed by cherry blossom trees, even though it’s far from blooming season. 

They walk in silence, the sound of their footsteps the only break in the stillness. Sterling notices a man in a sunhat taking photos near the water. There's something about him - something familiar, like a memory she can’t quite grasp. It feels almost like a glitch, a sense of déjà vu. She squints, trying to place his face, but then shakes her head, brushing off the thought. She had never been to Washington before and she didn’t even know anyone who lived there plus the guy seemed like a tourist. 

The walk to the FDR Memorial is quieter. 

Sterling glances sideways at April, who seems more at ease than she has been for the entire trip. She’s in her element - absorbing the history, the architecture, the political symbolism of it all. For a moment, Sterling allows herself to admire her, the way April’s brow furrows in concentration, the way she seems to compartmentalize everything so easily. It’s always been like this. April has her boxes, her perfectly constructed walls. Sterling? She’s a mess, everything spilling over, raw and exposed.

“I always liked the New Deal stuff,” Sterling offers, trying to break out of her thoughts, her voice too quiet in the open air.

April raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised but says nothing. Instead, she nods and moves to the next section of the memorial.

At the Lincoln Memorial, the crowds thicken. Families, couples, school groups—everyone is clamoring for photos in front of the statue. April stares up at Lincoln with quiet reverence, while Sterling finds herself scanning the crowd, her heart beating faster for reasons she can’t quite explain. It’s not fear exactly, but there’s a lingering unease that she can’t shake.

"Sterling," April says, tugging her attention back. "You look like you're somewhere else."

Sterling forces a smile. "I’m here. Just… thinking."

At the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial, they pause for a few moments, standing in silence as tourists shuffle around them. Sterling feels a wave of something - guilt, sadness, shame - roll through her. She doesn’t deserve this trip, this distraction. But she’s here. She left, she’s running, and now she’s dragging April along with her.

By the time they reach the Washington Monument, April seems to have given up on guiding their path. They stroll in and out of the waves of tourists on the Mall, Sterling’s feet aching, but her mind buzzing with everything she’s avoiding. The monument stretches up into the sky, impossibly tall, and for a second, she imagines herself being swallowed by it—by the city, by the crowds, by her thoughts.

"Do you want to go to the White House?" April asks, suddenly. She doesn't wait for Sterling's answer, already setting off in that direction. It’s like April needs to keep moving, to have something to focus on. Sterling lingers for a moment, her thoughts still stuck on her family and what she's left behind.

Sterling looks toward the White House in the distance. “I can’t believe we’re this close,” she says, more to herself than to April.

April looks at her, face neutral. “It’s just a building,” she says, dismissively. “The people inside are what matter.”

Sterling nods, awkward again, but something about April's sharpness cuts a little. They pass the Capitol next, its white dome gleaming under the midday sun. She feels like she's on autopilot, watching her own life from the outside. It isn’t until they’re standing in front of the Capitol that April finally breaks the silence.

"Are you going to tell me why we're really here?" she asks.

Sterling’s heart skips. The question feels loaded, but the way April asks it is almost casual, like she’s testing the waters. She doesn’t respond right away, letting the tension hang in the air. Instead, she looks at the Capitol, towering and imposing, just like everything else here. Her throat tightens. She wants to tell April everything but knows it’ll never come out right.

“I don’t know,” Sterling says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. It’s not a real answer, but it’s all she can offer. The guilt, the confusion - it’s too much.

April doesn't press her. She just sighs, and together they continue to the Library of Congress and then the Supreme Court. Sterling follows, her thoughts heavier with every step.

In a way, walking helps. It keeps her moving, keeps her from completely spiraling.

The Supreme Court is their last stop, unable to explore any further, unable to walk any furher. They sit on the steps, a rare moment of stillness after hours of walking. April leans back on her hands, looking out at the fading afternoon light, while Sterling fidgets with her shoelaces.

Eventually April stands up, dusts off her jeans, and starts walking back toward their car without another word.

Sterling hesitates for a moment, then gets up to follow.

Sterling puts the car in drive and starts to follow the late afternoon traffic out of the capitol. 

“I’m just going to keep driving,” she says, glancing over at April before adding “unless you are tired and want to stop?” 

April shakes her head and returns to looking out the window as if desperate to see as much of the capitol as possible even now that they were back in the car. 

As they finally merge onto I-95, the city lights gradually fade into the distance, replaced by the darkening highway ahead. The sky shifts from the burnt oranges and pinks of sunset to a deep indigo, and soon, the only illumination comes from the occasional streetlights and the glow of the dashboard. The world outside is becoming a blur of shadows, and Sterling feels the weight of the silence between them thickening.

She listens to the CD playing the Black Eyed Pea’s singing “tonight is going to be a good good night” and Sterling would like to dispute that assertion. She did not in fact think that tonight was going to be a good night. In fact, it would probably join a long string of bad nights for Sterling.  

April breaks the silence and interuputs Sterlings train of thought. “Why does Blair think we are still together?”

“I didn’t tell her we broke up,” Sterling says, her voice small as she snaps back to the moment. She shifts uncomfortably, trying to focus on the conversation. “Wait, why - ”

“- Why not?” April interrupts, her brow furrowing. 

But Sterling’s attention has already shifted. Something isn’t right.

Sterling’s eyes flick to April’s phone, a wave of panic bubbling up inside her. “Wait… why do you have your phone?”

“What?” April glances up, confused.

“Why do you have your phone?” Sterling repeats, her voice trembling now, panic overtaking her calm.

“We’re two young girls on a road trip in the gun capital of the world,” April says, her sarcasm sharp but automatic. She looks back down at the screen. “Why wouldn’t I have my phone? Blair won’t stop -”

“Bowser can track phones, April!” Sterling blurts out, louder than intended, her stomach twisting into knots.

April freezes, her eyes narrowing as she processes what Sterling just said. “Who is Bowser?”

Sterling’s breath catches in her throat. 

Opps.  

She hadn’t meant to let that slip, and now all of April’s attention is on her. Exactly where she didn’t want it to be.

“Who is Bowser?” April repeats, this time more insistent, her voice edged with something sharper than before - concern, maybe. “Are you in danger?”

Sterling’s mind scrambles for an explanation, some excuse to wave this off, but nothing comes. April's gaze is intense, and Sterling can see the cracks in her usually composed demeanor, the panic starting to bleed through.

“Is Bowser dangerous? Are you running from him?” April’s questions come faster now, her control slipping. “What happened, Sterling?”

The car feels smaller, tighter. Sterling’s heart pounds in her chest as she realizes she has no way out of this. There’s no clever lie, no half-truth that can cover the enormity of what she’s been hiding.

For a fleeting moment, she feels a weird flash of sympathy for her mother, Debbie, and how it must have felt that night in the caravan park having a sixteen year secret revealed. 

Sterling swallows hard, her mouth dry. “Bowser is…” She hesitates, feeling April’s gaze boring into her. “Bowser is my boss.” Her words are barely more than a whisper as she glances into the rearview mirror at the pickup truck behind them.  

April blinks, momentarily thrown off. “Your boss? From the yogurt shop?”

Sterling looks straight ahead, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel. “Yes. Well, no.”

There was truely no way out of this.

“I need to pull over.” Sterling’s voice is strained as she flicks on the indicator, veering the car toward the shoulder of the highway. 

The pickup truck roars past, horn blaring as she narrowly avoids a collision, her hands trembling as she finally pulls off the road.

Once the car comes to a stop, April’s stare doesn’t let up. “What is going on, Sterling?”

Sterling sighs, her mind spinning. There’s no point in delaying this any further. “We don’t actually work at the yogurt shop,” she admits, her voice small. “Blair and I… We help sometimes, but it’s just a cover.”

“A cover?” April echoes, incredulity creeping into her voice.

“For, uh… bounty hunting.”

April’s face remains impassive for a beat, like her brain needs time to process the sheer absurdity of what Sterling’s saying. “Bounty hunting?” she repeats, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Sterling nods, biting her lip. She’s fully aware of how insane it sounds now that it’s out in the open, but it’s too late to backtrack. “It started as an accident…”

She starts to ramble, words spilling out in a clumsy attempt to explain how two teenagers ended up bounty hunting, but it’s useless. April’s expression is growing harder by the second, her jaw tightening. Sterling can practically see the moment April connects the dots.

“That,” April says slowly, her voice tight, “is why you approached me about my dad. I knew you were acting more squirelly than usual. You turned him in, didn’t you?”

Sterling stammers, “I mean, not at first - ”

April’s eyes darken, her voice seething with quiet anger now. “You turned him in, Sterling.”

Sterling feels her heart plummet. “We thought he was innocent at first, but then Bowser showed us a video and… he wasn’t. So we had to.”

“So you're telling me,” April says, shaking her head, her eyes narrowing as her voice rises, “that you and Blair are responsible for the worst thing that ever happened to my family and then kept it from me? You dated me while lying to my face the whole time?”

April lets out a bitter, hollow laugh, one that makes Sterling’s stomach churn. Sterling opens her mouth, heart racing, wanting to defend herself - I wouldn’t say it like that, she thinks. Sure, she had a role to play, but John Stevens and his rage issues did most of the damage. If she had to tally up the blame, she’d take about 30%, but no more.

“I wouldn’t -” Sterling starts, but her words are cut off as April cuts through her attempt to explain.

“You kissed me,” April spits, her voice trembling with a mix of hurt and rage. “You kissed me after I said how much I hated lies.” She scoffs, shaking her head in disgust. “And you were lying the whole time. I trusted you, Sterling. Again.” Her voice cracks slightly on that last word.

April's eyes are piercing now, sharp and unforgiving. “And you screwed me over. Again. Why do you keep screwing me over?” Her words come out raw, like they’ve been festering for years. She growls in frustration and turns away, staring out the window like she can't bear to look at Sterling. “Why do I keep letting you screw me over?” she mutters under her breath, her voice quieter but no less venomous.

Sterling’s throat tightens, guilt gnawing at her insides. She wants to say something, anything to make it better, to explain how she never meant for any of this to happen. But every time she opens her mouth, the words die on her tongue.

“I -” Sterling tries again, her voice barely audible, but April’s hand shoots up, silencing her.

“Stop. Just stop , Sterling.” April’s voice trembles, her jaw clenches so tightly Sterling can practically hear her teeth grind. She stares out the window, eyes hard and distant, the weight of the moment settling thickly between them.

Silence stretches out, oppressive and thick. Sterling grips the wheel tightly, her knuckles turning white. She waits, hoping for a flicker of change in April’s posture, for some sign that the anger will ease. But April’s face stays turned to the window, her expression locked in stone. Sterling feels a cold ache settle deep in her chest.

Eventually, with no other choice, Sterling flicks the indicator and pulls back onto the I-95. The car rumbles back onto the highway, the sound of the tires on the road blending with the fading music from the CD. Her mind buzzes with everything unsaid, everything left hanging between them, but she doesn’t dare speak again. Not with the way April is wound so tightly, like she might snap at any moment.

The silence is suffocating, pressing down on her as the minutes stretch into hours. It feels endless, the weight of the conversation - and everything that’s led to it - settling on Sterling like a lead blanket. Her eyes sting from the strain of driving in the dark, but there’s no way she can stop. 

Not now. 

Not until she figures out how to keep going.

Four hours later, the fatigue sets in like a fog, her eyelids growing heavier with every passing minute. Her body aches, the exhaustion creeping into her bones, and she realizes her eyes are slipping shut for longer and longer.

I need to stop, she thinks, blinking hard to clear her vision. She starts glancing around, searching for somewhere, anywhere, to pull over and rest. Then she spots it—a motel in the distance, its neon sign flashing VACANCY in garish red letters.

As she checks her mirror and changes lanes to exit, something catches her eye. Her stomach twists with unease.

“Does that pickup truck look familiar to you?” Sterling asks, her voice hesitant, breaking the uneasy silence that has blanketed the car for hours.

April doesn’t answer, still staring out the window, but Sterling’s attention remains glued to the pickup truck in her mirror. It’s been behind them for a while now, and something about it gnaws at the back of her mind.

She pulls into the motel’s driveway, her fingers clenching around the steering wheel as she watches the pickup truck roll by without slowing down, continuing straight on the highway.

“False alarm, I guess,” she says, forcing a note of fake lightness into her voice, but her eyes follow the truck until it disappears from sight. 

April says nothing, but the tension in her body is palpable, her shoulders stiff as she unbuckles her seatbelt. Sterling’s heart hammers in her chest. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just a car.

But the knot in her stomach doesn’t loosen, not even as they check in at the reception for ‘Princetown Motel’ and make their way to the available room. 

Sterling opens the door and before she can even properly examine the room she comes to a hard stop and April almost bumps into her from behind.

There is only one bed.

“Um…” she mutters, glancing back over her shoulder at the reception area as if hoping for a last-minute miracle. 

No luck.

The receptionist had said they were “lucky to get the last available room,” and from the looks of this tiny, dimly lit space, she wasn’t exaggerating. Sterling’s eyes return to the bed - a queen, with a faded light pink quilt dotted with white polka dots, more stained than she’d like to acknowledge. The once-cheerful pattern now marred by mysterious spots, doing nothing to soften the blow of the situation.

“Um…” she repeats, more to herself than anyone, still staring at the bed as if the longer she looks, the more likely it will magically split into two.

"Shut your mouth, Sterling, you'll catch flies with it," April hisses from behind, and before Sterling can respond, April shoves past her, striding into the room without so much as a second glance at the bed. The door to the bathroom clicks shut behind her.

Sterling is left awkwardly standing there, still holding her bag, her gaze bouncing between the single bed and the closed bathroom door. She lets out a small sigh and drops her bag to the floor, then stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, her mind spinning with the weight of the last few hours—the argument, the confessions, and now this.

April emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later, her phone in hand, her gaze carefully avoiding Sterling's. The tension in the room is thick, palpable, like a rubber band pulled too tight, ready to snap at any second.

Sterling clears her throat, swallowing down the anxiety clawing at her chest. "Can you - can you at least turn off your phone?" she asks, her voice small but steady. April’s eyes flicker up to meet hers, and Sterling can see the resistance in them, the way April’s jaw tenses as she bites back whatever sharp retort is on the tip of her tongue.

“I can drive you home tomorrow,” Sterling adds quickly, as if the offer might make things easier, less complicated. “But until then, I don’t - ” She stumbles over the words. “I don’t want them knowing where I am.”

April’s expression hardens, her eyes narrowing. Sterling knows that look - April has questions. So many questions. As angry as she is, Sterling can tell it’s killing her to not understand everything. To not have all the pieces of this puzzle Sterling’s dropped in front of her. But right now, that anger is a barrier, a solid wall between them.

“Please,” Sterling whispers.

April stares at her for what feels like an eternity. The room is suffocatingly silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioner in the corner. Finally, April’s thumb hovers over the screen of her phone, and Sterling watches as the light dims and the screen goes black. The phone powers down.

"Don't," April says flatly, turning her face away from Sterling. Her voice is raw, her anger still simmering just beneath the surface. "Don’t take me home tomorrow. We can keep driving."

Sterling's heart skips a beat, but before she can ask why - before she can even process what April’s saying - April cuts her off with a raised hand.

"Don't talk to me," April says, her voice clipped, her posture rigid. She crosses the room quickly and drops down onto the bed, turning her back to Sterling without another word.

Sterling stands frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do next. The exhaustion clings to her, but her stomach grumbles loudly, reminding her that she hasn’t eaten since before their impromptu tour of D.C. 

“I’m going to go get us something to eat,” Sterling says softly, almost to herself, hoping April will acknowledge her but expecting nothing.

April doesn’t respond. 

Sterling sighs, grabbing her wallet and stepping out into the cool night air. The parking lot is nearly deserted, the flickering neon sign casting an eerie glow across the pavement. She weaves through the sparse cars and crosses four lanes of traffic to reach a diner on the other side. It advertised “fresh made” pies and an “all you can eat” buffet 24/7. It wasn’t much and basically gourmet-negative, but it would have to do. 

She grabs a breakfast sandwich for herself, and after a moment’s hesitation, she orders a second one for April. It’s basic, but she doubts April would be caught dead eating anything else from a place like this.

By the time she makes it back to the motel room, dodging honking cars and flashing headlights, her feet are dragging. She opens the door to find April in the exact same spot, her back turned, her body curled tightly into itself. She had however changed her clothes back into the same pj’s as last night. Sterling’s eyes catch on a small sliver of exposed skin where April’s shirt has ridden up. She feels a flush creep up her neck and quickly looks away, burying the thought deep down where it can’t surface again.

“I got food,” she says, setting the sandwiches down on the small table by the window. She’s careful not to look at April for too long, unsure of where they stand now. Unsure if April will even accept anything from her after everything.

After a moment’s hesitation, April sits up, finally accepting the sandwich from Sterling. The tension in the room is palpable, but Sterling lets out an internal sigh of relief at this small gesture, feeling the slightest ease in the tight coil of anxiety that's been building in her chest. She focuses on her own sandwich, the food tasteless despite her hunger, the silence between them far louder than the crinkle of the sandwich wrappers.

They eat without a word. 

Once they finish, Sterling gathers the wrappers and tosses them into the small plastic bin under the table. The room feels suffocating, heavy with all the things left unsaid. She silently picks up her clothes and retreats to the bathroom, eager for a brief escape.

The shower, at least, is a reprieve.

There’s no breakdown tonight, though - no tears, no trembling. She feels numb, as if she’s too far from herself to properly feel the sting of everything that’s happened. 

When she steps out, dressed in her worn but comfortable pajamas, she finds that April has already climbed into bed. The main light is off, and the only illumination in the room comes from the soft glow of the bedside lamp on Sterling's side, casting long, quiet shadows across the room. April’s back is to her, curled into the far edge of the bed as if trying to put as much space between them as possible.

Sterling hesitates, the sight of April's form - rigid, unmoving - pulling at her chest. She can't tell if it's the physical distance or the emotional wall that's more painful. Quietly, she makes her way to the bed, sliding under the covers with the same care she might use to tiptoe across broken glass. The bed dips slightly under her weight, and the sensation of April's body heat on the far side tugs at something deep inside her. 

With a shaky hand, she reaches for the lamp and flicks it off, plunging the room into darkness. She falls into an uneasy sleep.

Hours later, Sterling jerks awake, her heart pounding in her chest, breath catching in her throat as the remnants of a nightmare cling to her like dark tendrils. She gasps for air, the vivid images of that night - Dana, the gunshots, the panic - still flashing in her mind like some cruel, repeating reel.

There’s a hand on her arm.

She blinks, disoriented, her breath shaky, and turns her head to see April leaning over her, her hand resting gently on Sterling’s arm, eyes sharp with concern. For a second, Sterling can’t believe it. April woke her up. Normally, she gets much further into the nightmare before pulling herself out of it, but tonight, April’s touch - light, yet grounding - had pulled her back from the brink.

“April…?” she whispers, her voice hoarse and unsure. She’s not sure what she’s asking. Maybe she’s asking for reassurance, or maybe it’s just the shock of April waking her up after everything that had happened that day.

April doesn’t pull away immediately, but her face remains unreadable. After a few moments, her hand slips away, and she rolls back over, retreating once more to her side of the bed. The warmth of her touch lingers on Sterling’s skin, though, a reminder of the fleeting moment they just shared, no matter how small or reluctant it may have been.

Sterling lies there in the darkness, her heart still racing, her thoughts muddled. She wants to say something, anything, but the words catch in her throat, heavy and awkward. Instead, she shifts slightly, adjusting the blanket, and stares up at the ceiling, wondering what April must be thinking.

The silence stretches on, but now, it feels different. Not lighter, exactly, but less suffocating. April’s presence feels closer, even though she’s still keeping her distance. And Sterling doesn’t quite know what to do with that.

Eventually she falls back asleep. 

Sterling sleeps deeply, peacefully, for the first time since the night of the lock-in. It's almost surreal, this rare sense of calm, as if her body recognizes April's presence nearby, closer than earlier, more protective. It soothes her in a way that feels instinctive, her mind and body finally surrendering to much-needed rest. Her usual restlessness, the gnawing anxiety and nightmares, are absent for the first time in days.

When she wakes, it's later than she expected. The first thing she notices is the empty space beside her, already cold. 

April's up. 

Sterling turns her head to see April fully dressed, standing by the window, arms crossed, the sharp lines of her posture signaling impatience. April’s expression is unreadable, her body language as tightly wound as ever.

“We need to go,” April says, her tone clipped, not offering anything more. 

Sterling looks over at the alarm clock - it’s quarter to ten. Checkout time was in fifteen minutes. She vividly remembers the receptionist’s stern warning last night, reminding them that checkout was at 10 a.m sharp.

Sterling’s mind races. She hadn't expected to sleep in. Panic rises as her eyes dart around the room, landing on scattered clothes and her open bag. 

Where does she even start? 

There's too much to do in too little time, and her mind feels like it’s buzzing with static.

April, still avoiding her gaze, speaks again, this time with a hint of frustration laced into her voice. “I was going to get breakfast, but it’s raining, so…” She trails off, glancing toward the window, where the storm outside rattles the glass. 

Sterling takes a deep breath, trying to calm the sudden rush of adrenaline. The storm doesn't help the tension swirling inside her.

"Right," Sterling mumbles, fumbling to gather her clothes. She clutches them to her chest and dashes into the bathroom. The mirror shows her how disheveled she looks—hair a mess, dark circles under her eyes. She changes in a hurry, slipping into her jeans and shirt, and shoves her pajamas into her bag, barely managing to zip it up before grabbing her shoes.

Emerging from the bathroom, Sterling spots April standing near the door, waiting silently. April doesn’t comment, doesn’t even glance her way as Sterling pulls on her shoes and slings her bag over her shoulder.

"Okay," Sterling breathes out, forcing a calm she doesn’t feel. "Let's go."

She pulls the motel door open and immediately winces. April had undersold it - it’s not just raining, it’s a full-on storm. The rain pounds the pavement in heavy sheets, each drop hitting with a force that echoes in Sterling’s ears. She can barely hear herself think as the wind howls around them, and visibility is practically nonexistent.

Sterling's eyes widen at the sheer intensity of the downpour. “Well, that's just great,” she mutters under her breath. 

She hadn’t thought to pack an umbrella, which now feels like a glaring oversight. She glances over at April, who remains impassive, her expression guarded as she pulls her jacket closer around her. Sterling adjusts her backpack, hoisting it over her head as a makeshift shield, before stepping into the deluge. The rain immediately soaks through her clothes, cold and relentless.

They rush across the lot toward the car, Sterling fumbling with the keys as water drips down her face and neck. Her hair sticks to her forehead, but she’s too focused on getting the car unlocked to care. She finally manages to open the door and scrambles into the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind her. April slips into the passenger seat a second later, equally drenched.

The moment the door shuts, the sound of the rain dulls, replaced by a heavy silence inside the car. Sterling exhales, wiping her damp hair from her forehead, feeling the cold water dripping down the back of her neck. She glances over at April, who’s staring out the window, her expression a mix of irritation and something Sterling can’t quite place.

“I can still take you home,” Sterling says, her voice soft but strained. It shouldn’t be too hard. They’ve been traveling mostly along I-95, so retracing their steps would be easy enough.

April shakes her head, still looking out the window, her jaw tight. “No.”

Sterling waits, expecting more - an explanation, a reason - but nothing comes. April doesn't elaborate, doesn't even turn to face her. She just stares at the storm outside, her posture rigid, her hands resting tensely on her lap.

"Okay," Sterling whispers to herself, her hands gripping the steering wheel. 

She wants to ask why - why April won’t go home, why she’s staying - but the wall between them is too thick right now. Maybe April doesn’t know why either, or maybe she’s just not ready to say it. Either way, Sterling lets it go, starting the car in silence.

As they pull out of the motel parking lot, Sterling glances at the diner across the road. The flashing neon signs are almost obscured by the rain, and the thought of eating there again makes her stomach turn. They need breakfast, but they’re definitely not going back to that diner. Hopefully, they’ll pass somewhere better soon - somewhere that doesn’t scream “food poisoning hazard.”

A thirty minute drive of poor visibility, with rain pounding down on the windshield like it's determined to bury them and they are still in Princetown, New Jersey. She can barely see past the wipers as they sweep furiously back and forth, but the familiar red-and-white Chick-fil-A logo suddenly comes into view. It’s a small relief. Something simple to focus on in the midst of the tense silence that’s settled between her and April.

The heater is on full blast, blasting warm air that’s slowly drying her clothes, but the chill from the earlier rain still clings to her. Sterling's reluctant to step out into the downpour again, so she swerves the car into the drive-through lane, wincing when she misjudges the turn. She hits the brakes hard, narrowly avoiding the bumper of the car in front of them.

Sterling glances over at April nervously. She can feel the tension between them like a physical weight. Her stomach clenches, but she forces herself to ask quietly, "What do you want?"

April hesitates for a moment, staring out the window like she’s weighing whether or not to respond. Finally, she answers, her voice flat, "Chicken sandwich. No pickles."

Sterling nods, swallowing the lump in her throat as she inches forward to place the order. Her fingers tap anxiously against the steering wheel while they wait in line. Once they have the food, she pulls the car into a parking space, juggling her milkshake in one hand as she parks. The bag of food sits in her lap, its warmth a stark contrast to the dampness that still clings to her skin.

She hands April her sandwich, doing her best to avoid letting their fingers brush. Every movement feels heavy, the silence between them almost deafening as they eat in the quiet. 

Sterling’s mind races, filled with things she wants to say but doesn’t know how. She wants to explain herself - explain why she and Blair had done what they did, why she hadn’t told April. But the words stick in her throat. How could she even begin? How do you explain betrayal to the person you’ve already hurt more than once?

April chews slowly, her gaze fixed out the window, still distant, and Sterling watches her from the corner of her eye, wishing things weren’t so broken between them. She wants to go back to the way it felt when they were exploring D.C yesterday. Go back to before the secret came out. The food barely registers as she eats, her thoughts too tangled in guilt and the unresolved tension hanging between them.

Once they finish, Sterling shoves the empty wrappers and trash into the takeaway bag, glancing outside at the storm. No way was she getting out of the car to throw it away in this weather, so she tosses it into the backseat. As she reaches for the ignition, April’s hand suddenly grips her arm, stopping her.

The touch is soft but firm enough to send a jolt through Sterling, memories flashing in her mind. She swallows hard, trying to push them back down, but she can’t stop the blush from creeping up her neck. Her pulse races as she tries to hide the thoughts that had flashed unbidden through her mind.

“Wait,” April says, her voice gentler than it’s been in hours. Her grip loosens, and she pulls her hand back, but the tension lingers in the space between them. April glances down at her lap, as if uncertain about continuing, but eventually, she speaks again. “About last night…”

Sterling freezes. 

Her heart pounds in her chest, and she can barely breathe as she looks over at April, who is no longer angry, at least not in this moment. Her voice is softer, more vulnerable than Sterling has heard in a while.

“Are you okay?”

Sterling doesn’t know how to answer. Her mind scrambles for the right words, for a way to explain the nightmare, the fear, the truth of her family. But all she can do is stare at April, the ache in her chest making it hard to speak.

"I..." she starts, but the words fizzle out. 

She wants to tell her everything - about the nightmares that still wake her in the dead of night, about the saddness weighing her down every time she thinks of the ruins of her once healthy family. But how do you admit something like that?

April’s gaze softens, just a little, and Sterling can tell she’s trying to understand. She doesn’t push, but her eyes are asking the questions her words haven’t formed. Sterling wants to give her answers. But she doesn’t know how to say any of it without crumbling.

"I'm fine," Sterling lies, her voice barely above a whisper. The moment she says it, she hates herself for it. The tension inside her tightens like a knot, and she grips the steering wheel just to ground herself.

April doesn’t respond, but Sterling sees the flicker of disbelief cross her face. They both know it isn’t true, but April doesn’t push, turning her gaze back out the window.

Sterling bites her lip, trying to ignore the guilt that gnaws at her. She turns the key in the ignition, the engine rumbling to life as the rain continues to pound on the roof. She wants to tell April the truth, to spill everything, but for now, silence settles between them once more as they pull back onto the highway.

The signs signalling they are getting closer to ‘Hartford, Connecticut’ are getting more frequent when April finally reaches into the dashboard to pull out Sterlings old ‘1989’ CD. April slids the disc into the car player without a word, the first chords of "Welcome to New York" filling the car. 

Sterling feels a small but noticeable shift. Her shoulders relax, some of the tension melting away. It wasn’t much, but it was something - an olive branch in the form of a familiar melody. April might still be angry, but at least the silence wasn’t so stifling anymore.

Sterling allows herself a brief sigh of relief before glancing back at the rearview mirror again. That’s when she sees it - a pickup truck, too familiar for comfort,it looks just like the one from last night. She mentally rewinds her brain all the way back to the first petrol station they had stopped at in Charlotte, North Carolina and the guy who had been filling up his pickup truck. 

The same pickup truck. The same guy that she had seen while they were exploring D.C yesterday.

The realization hits her like a punch to the gut. They are being followed.

Why?

Her grip on the steering wheel tightens. She can feel her pulse in her ears, a surge of panic bubbling up. She forces herself to take a deep breath, trying to think. Her eyes lock onto an exit sign up ahead, and instinct takes over. Without warning, she jerks the wheel sharply to the right, swerving toward the exit. The tires squeal, the car lurching with the sudden change in direction. She winces at the sound of the brakes screeching in protest, but her gamble pays off, the pickup truck is forced to continue straight on the highway.

She speeds down unfamiliar side roads, the rain-soaked streets gleaming under the cloudy morning sky. Breath coming out in shallow, panicked gasps as she manouvers through the town - a place she hadn’t even caught the name of.

“What are you doing?” April's voice is sharp, cutting through the chaos. April is bracing herself against the dashboard as the car jeks around a corner, her eyes wide with anger and fear. “Are you trying to kill us?”

Sterling doesn’t answer right away, her heart still hammering in her chest. Mind racing, trying to piece together what she had seen, what she now knew. She keeps her eyes on the road, but the image of the truck, of the man behind the wheel is burned in her mind. 

“We’re being followed,” she finally says, her voice tight with urgency.

April's head snaps toward her, her expression a mix of disbelief and something darker, something that looked a lot like fear, though April would never admit it. “Followed? By who?”

“I don’t know,” Sterling mutters, her grip on the steering wheel so tight her knuckles are turning white. She speds through the winding streets, trying to put as much distance between them and the interstate as possible. The further away they get, the safer they would be. At least, that’s what she hopes. “But he’s been tailing us since at least North Carolina.”

“Since -” April’s voice falters for a moment, her brow furrowing as she processed the information. She stares out the window, her jaw clenched. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I, I wasn’t sure until now.” Sterling’s voice wavered, guilt gnawing at her. She should have said something earlier, should have trusted her instincts. But she hadn’t, and now they were stuck in a strange town, being chased by God-knows-who. “I didn’t know what to do.”

April’s eyes remain fixed on the road ahead, her silence speaking volumes. Sterling can feel the weight of her anger, but there was something else there too, fear. As much as April tries to hide it, Sterling can see it in the way she grips the edge of her seat, her fingers trembling ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry,” Sterling whispers, barely loud enough for April to hear. It wasn’t enough, and she knew it. But it was all she had.

April doesn’t respond. Her eyes stay fixed on the rain-slicked streets as the car roars down the narrow road, the tension between them as thick as the storm outside.

Sterling squints through the windshield as the rain blurs the road signs, her heart racing from the narrow escape. The exit had taken them off the main highway, into unfamiliar streets, and for a brief moment, the panic of being followed settles, replaced by the rhythmic sound of the wipers battling against the rain. They pass a sign for Forbes Village, and Sterling lets out a slow breath - just another town they’ll be speeding through.

But then the car jerks violently, shuddering before coming to a complete stop in the middle of the road.

“Hey!” Sterling blurts, gripping the wheel in confusion, eyes darting to the dashboard and then out the window. “I didn’t even drive over a curb this time.”

April, sitting stiffly in the passenger seat, mutters without looking at her, “You’ve driven over enough of them.” The sharpness in her voice cuts through the uneasy quiet, but she says nothing more, her attention fixed ahead.

Sterling frowns, shifting in her seat and attempting to restart the car. The engine whines but stays dead. She tries again. Still nothing. With a defeated sigh, she steers the wheel just enough to pull the car closer to the side of the road, though it’s still stranded awkwardly. The car refuses to budge further.

“Of course,” Sterling mutters, sinking back against the seat. 

The rain hasn’t let up, not quite as bad as before but still enough to make her reluctant to step outside. The thought of getting soaked again fills her with dread. She glances over at April, hoping for some kind of input, but April just stares out the window, her expression unreadable.

Another sigh escapes Sterling’s lips, heavier this time, as she resigns herself to the inevitable. Before she can muster the will to open the door, April’s mocking voice cuts through the air. “What’s wrong, Sterling? You can catch criminals but you're scared of a little rain?”

Sterling winces. It’s a jab, but there’s truth in it. April’s disdain is almost palpable, making the car feel even smaller. Sterling hesitates, but April doesn’t stop there, continuing with a sneer, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

It’s all the motivation Sterling needs. 

Outside in the rain suddenly seems a lot more appealing than sitting here under April’s biting remarks. Without another word, she throws open the door and steps out. The cold rain immediately soaks through her clothes, clinging to her skin, but she grits her teeth and walks around the car, examining it in the downpour.

The road is mercifully empty, no traffic in sight, but the car is stubbornly immobile, stuck in the middle of the lane. Sterling circles it once, looking for anything out of the ordinary. All four tires seem fine - no obvious damage. Nothing she can see gives any clue as to why they’ve stopped.

Great, she thinks. Perfect.

She heads back to the driver's side and opens the door, briefly meeting April’s gaze before turning her attention to the dashboard. There has to be something wrong with the engine. Maybe if she can just pop the hood…

Sterling finds the lever and pulls it, stepping back out into the rain as the hood lifts slightly. The moment she gets around to the front, she spots it.

Smoke. 

It’s not billowing out in thick, dramatic clouds like in the movies, but there’s definitely smoke, soft puffs of grey curling up from beneath the hood.

“Jeepers,” Sterling mutters under her breath, her heart sinking. 

That’s definitely not good.

She walks back to the car and opens the door. “Um, April?” she starts, her voice hesitant, but April doesn’t even look at her. Sterling swallows, pushing down the sting of April’s indifference and continues, “Maybe… maybe you should get out of the car.”

April finally turns her head, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

“There’s, um, smoke. Coming out of the engine.”

April doesn’t need to be told twice. She’s out of the car in a flash, slamming the door behind her as though the car were about to explode. She stalks over to the front, arms crossed over her chest, rain pouring down her face and soaking her hair.

Sterling follows, watching as April inspects the engine with an intensity that only makes her feel more inadequate. If anyone knows what they’re doing here, it’s April.

April bends down, her eyes narrowing as she spots something. “What’s in that bag?” she asks sharply.

“Huh?” Sterling steps closer, confusion creeping into her voice. “What bag?”

April points, and sure enough, there’s a large plastic bag wedged next to the engine, slightly melted from the heat. Smoke wafts lazily from it.

Sterling’s eyes widen. She hadn’t noticed it before. “Oh.” She moves to reach for it, but April’s voice stops her mid-motion.

“What are you doing?” April’s voice rises, panic flickering across her face for the first time. “It’s smoking. You’ll burn yourself.”

Sterling pulls her hand back, embarrassed. “Oh… right.”

April rolls her eyes, exasperation coloring her words. “How are you my academic rival?” She quickly removes her sweater, wrapping it around her hand before reaching into the engine. She tugs the bag free and tosses it onto the wet road with a hiss, shaking her hand out from the heat.

Sterling is by her side in an instant, her heart pounding with concern. “Are you okay?” she asks, her voice tight with worry. “Are you hurt?”

April jerks her hand away, her face hardening again. “I’m fine.”

The cold rejection stings, and Sterling blinks back the tears that threaten to surface. She looks down at the bag lying on the wet asphalt, its contents now spilled out. Little clear chunks scatter across the road, glistening in the rain like ice. Sterling’s curiosity gets the better of her, and she bends down to get a closer look, but before she can touch anything, April steps forward.

“Don’t,” April warns sharply, her tone serious. That seems to be the current thing she likes to say to Sterling. 

Sterling stands up slowly, confusion swirling in her chest. “Why?” 

April’s eyes narrow as she looks down at the bag. “Why do you have crystal meth in your car?”

Sterling freezes, the words not quite registering at first. “What?” Her voice is barely a whisper. She stares at the bag again, then back in April. “Are you serious?” She’s sure April is. April is constantly annoyingly right all the time. 

“Crystal methamphetamine,” April repeats, each word biting through the rain. “Why do you have it in your car?”

Sterling’s mind reels, scrambling for an answer. “It’s my mom's car,” Sterling says before the realisation crashes over her like a tidal wave. 

It was her mom's car or more accurately it was her mother Debbies car but it was also the car her birth mom Dana had kidnapped her in and planned to take over the border to Mexico. 

Her throat tightens, and she barely manages to choke out, “Oh.”

April’s frustration flares. “Oh what?” she hisses, stepping closer. Her piercing eyes demand answers.

Sterling can only stare at the scattered meth on the road, her heart pounding in her chest. “Oh…”

“Sterling!” April’s voice crashes through the haze, sharp and demanding. “Use your words.”

Sterling swallows, the fog in her brain lifting just enough for her to speak, though her voice is hollow. “This is my mom’s car,” she says quietly, then corrects herself, “both of my moms.”

Without another word, she turns on her heel, the rain still falling around them, and retreats back to the car. The car door slams shut behind her, and she sits, staring out the window, her body stiff and motionless. The rain pelts the windshield, each drop blurring her view further, mirroring the muddled chaos in her head.

But April isn’t going to let this go. Sterling hears the car door open again as April slips into the passenger seat, her voice still loud, but something softer creeps into her tone this time - concern, maybe. “Sterling!”

Sterling flinches at the sound, but April's voice isn’t angry now, just insistent. It’s almost strange to hear April without her usual bite. Sterling must be freaking her out, looking so checked out, so detached from it all.

“What do you mean, ‘both your moms’?” April presses, a little gentler this time.

Sterling swallows hard, not tearing her gaze away from the rain. Her voice is low when she finally answers, “I’m adopted.” She says although she’s not sure how official the whole thing was. 

“You and Blair are adopted?” April’s voice tilts with confusion, like she’s trying to fit the pieces together.

“No,” Sterling corrects, shaking her head slightly. “Just me.”

“Oh…” April’s expression softens, the confusion mixing with something that looks like sympathy. “When did you find out?”

Sterling watches as raindrops race each other down the window, her mind far away. “The night of the lock-in.”

April is silent for a beat, processing. “That’s why you went off the grid,” she says, and Sterling can hear a hint of satisfaction in her voice, like she’s relieved to finally have an answer to the mystery. But that satisfaction is muted by something warmer - concern. “But…” April hesitates, her tone turning serious, “how does that explain the crystal meth?”

Sterling draws in a shaky breath, her fingers gripping the edge of the seat. She doesn’t want to say it. Saying it makes it real

“My birth mom,” she starts slowly without looking over at April, “is a drug adict which I found out when she kidnapped me after you went back inside to flirt with Luke some more.” 

April’s head snaps toward her. “She kidnapped you?!” April’s voice pitches higher, completely bypassing the bitter comment about Luke.

Sterling gives a small nod, eyes still fixed on the rain.  “She kidnapped me and wanted to take me to Mexico with her and her fellow drug addict boyfriend. They wanted to go to Mexico in this car.” She lets out a long, exhausted sigh and shrugs, feeling utterly drained.“I’m guessing they also wanted to take the drugs to Mexico in this car.” 

April’s sharp intake of breath is audible. “Are you okay?” she asks, but then mutters under her breath, “Obviously not, or we wouldn’t be in the middle of nowhere right now.” Louder again, she continues, “Never mind that. How did you escape? You said she kidnapped you, but you’re obviously not in Mexico.”

Sterling finally pulls her gaze away from the window, her eyes meeting April’s for the first time. “Honestly?” She gives a short, humorless laugh. “Bounty hunting saved my life.” She presses her lips together for a moment, her voice wavering as she continues. “I maxed out the card I share with Blair. I knew she and Bowser would track me through that, and they did. They found me.”

The guil of leaving Blair claws at her again, gnawing at her inside She was so stuck in the hurt of it all that she barely paid any attention to the hurt and confusion Blair would be feeling too. This may have happened to her but it also happened to Blair. 

April, still studying her intently, finally speaks again. “I’m glad then… that you had bounty hunting.” Her voice is softer now, almost gentle. “Even though, even though I still haven’t forgiven you for what you did, I’m glad you are still here and not, not in Mexico.” 

Sterling gives April a soft smile, the weight of the moment hanging between them. For a brief moment, the silence between them feels less hostile, like maybe, just maybe she and April could get through this, get past the betrayal and the secrets.

They sit in silence for a moment before the reality of the situation hits her again.

They have a bag of meth lying in the middle of the road. They’re being followed.

It doesn’t take a detective to connect the dots.

Sterling’s mind races as she tries to figure out what to do. The guy in the pickup truck had been tailing them for days, showing up at every stop like a shadow they couldn’t shake. And now, it’s clear why.

“The guy following us…” she says, her voice cracking with realization. She glances at April, who’s watching her intently. “I’m guessing he’s after the meth.”

April’s eyes widen, her face hardening into something determined. The rain outside feels heavier, but inside the car, everything has gone still.

"That's a lot of meth," April says, her voice tight as she stares at the scattered bag in the middle of the road.  “He  wouldn’t just be leaving it up to chance and hoping that he can successfully follow us. He would be tracking us, either us or it.” 

Sterling nods. For the first time in days, she’s not sure how to run or where to go. The question isn’t if they’ll be found - it’s what they’ll do when he finds them.

"We could try and find the tracker," she says, more to fill the silence than anything, her voice sounding distant even to her own ears. Her eyes flick to the bag still lying abandoned in the rain. “If it’s in the bag with the meth… we could just leave it.”

April doesn’t even glance at her, keeping her gaze on the road ahead. “We can’t just leave a bag of meth in the middle of the road, Sterling. The cops would be on us too if we did that.”

"Oh." Sterling blinks. 

Of course. There’s no easy way out of this. There never is.

“Also,” April adds, her voice dripping with dry sarcasm, “the car is broken.”

Right. That. 

Sterling glances at the dashboard, her fingers brushing the key again. It feels so absurd—like they’re in some bad movie. But she can’t help herself. "Maybe the car will work now?" She turns the key in the ignition, and the engine sputters weakly, coughing like it’s trying to come back to life, but then it dies again, leaving them in silence. “Never mind.”

April leans back in her seat, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “Let’s wait,” she says after a moment, her tone calm but laced with frustration. “Maybe the car just needs time. But we still can’t leave the meth in the middle of the road.”

Sterling’s eyes are glued to the plastic bag, rain collecting in the folds of it, making it shimmer under the grey sky. “Do you still have your phone?”

April doesn’t move. “We can’t call the cops, Sterling.” She lets out a scoff, as if the idea is ridiculous. “We have a bag of meth.”

“Not the cops,” Sterling says, shaking her head, still fixated on the mess outside. “Bowser.”

April looks at her like she’s lost her mind. “He’s a bounty hunter, Sterling. This is a crime.”

Sterling knows April’s right, in theory. Bowser’s job is to hunt criminals, not rescue two girls sitting on a highway with a bag of crystal meth and a broken-down car. But she also knows Bowser. 

Bowser would come. 

He might be angry but he would come.  Bowser had been willing to let Debbie go when he still thought she was the one wanted by the police. He cared about them. While his relationship with Blair was obviously closer she still knew that he would come for her. 

“He’d come,” Sterling insists quietly, the words feeling heavy in the air between them.

April doesn’t move for a long moment, just stares at Sterling like she’s trying to figure her out. Finally, with a sigh, April leans down to fumble with her bag. She pulls out her phone, the screen black, the power still off.

Sterling takes it with trembling hands, her chest tight with the weight of what she’s about to do. But as soon as the phone is in her grip, she freezes.

“I don’t know his number.” The realization hits her like a punch in the gut. It was 2019 who still knew numbers off by heart? 

April would have Blairs number though and Blair would have his number. 

Could she really just call Blair though and ask for help? After everything? 

Calling Blair - after everything, after the silence, after leaving her behind - feels like crossing a line she’s not sure she’s ready to face.

But they don’t have a choice.

There is a bag of meth in the road and a man chasing them. 

“I’ll call Blair,” She doesn’t look at April when she powers on the phone, her fingers trembling as she scrolls for Blair’s number. The rain outside taps relentlessly against the car, a dull soundtrack to the tension growing inside her chest. The phone rings twice before Blair picks up, even though she’s supposed to be in class right now.

“Where is she, Stevens?” Blair’s voice is sharp, her words coming out in a hiss before Sterling can even open her mouth. “If anything has happened to her, I swear to - ”

“Blair,” Sterling chokes out, her voice catching on an unexpected sob. The sound of her sister’s voice - familiar, comforting in a way nothing else can be - hits her harder than she imagined. It’s as if hearing Blair releases something inside her, something she’s been holding back for days, maybe weeks. The tears start to fall, hot and fast, her vision blurring as her chest tightens.

“Sterl?” Blair’s voice softens, the sharpness replaced by concern, panic. “What’s going on? Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I - ” Sterling tries to speak, but her throat closes up, and the words won’t come out. She’s spiraling, sinking into the overwhelming mix of emotions, unable to ground herself. Then suddenly, April’s hand is on her shoulder, firm and steady, pulling her back from the edge. April gives her a squeeze, and it’s enough to bring her back to the present, to the moment.

She wipes away the tears with the back of her hand, sucking in a shaky breath. “I need help,” she finally manages to say, her voice raw and vulnerable.

To Sterling’s surprise, Blair doesn’t explode. There’s a short scoff, but no anger, no bitterness - not the storm of emotions Sterling had feared. Blair simply asks, “What’s going on?”

Sterling can feel the tears still clinging to her lashes as she stares out the rain-splattered window. Her mouth moves before she can think. “Drugs.” The word slips out, harsh and sudden. “There are drugs in the car. Meth. Technically meth in the car.”

“Sterling,” April’s voice cuts in, low but steady, grounding her again, reminding her to focus.

Sterling inhales sharply. “We need Bowser’s phone number,” she blurts out, rushing to get the words out before Blair can ask more questions.

“We?” Blair’s voice shifts, and now the bitterness comes through, the edge Sterling had been expecting from the start. “April and me,” she adds softly, wincing as she avoids April’s gaze. The rain feels louder somehow, drumming against the roof as if punctuating the silence between her and Blair.

“April.” Blair scoffs, but then, without further complaint, she rattles off a phone number too fast for Sterling to catch.

“Wait,” Sterling says, looking around desperately for something to write on. 

She ends up leaning towards the back of the car and grabbing their discarded takeaway bag and a loose napkin inside of it. 

She’s at a loss of where to get a pen. She certainly hasn’t packed one. She’s just about to start frantically looking through the dash cabinets when suddenly April is handing her a pen. 

Of course April has a pen. 

She balances the napkin on her leg before speaking. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

Blair huffs on the other end but repeats the number, slower this time, and Sterling scribbles it down, her writing messy but legible. They sit in silence for a moment after that, the air between them thick with everything unspoken.

She knows she needs to be calling Bowser right now. But she’s also tangibly aware that Blair is still on the other end of the line. Her sister. Hurt, confused, and Sterling knows it’s mostly her fault.

She clutches the napkin in her hand, unsure what to say, unsure how to bridge the gap she’s created between them. Her throat feels tight again, but this time, it’s not just fear - it’s guilt, regret.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers into the phone, the words barely audible, but she knows Blair hears them.

Blair stays silent for a beat, and then, with a sigh, she says, “Just… call me when you’re safe, okay?”

Sterling nods, even though Blair can’t see it. “Okay,” she whispers back.

The line goes dead, and Sterling lowers the phone into her lap. 

April watches her with an unreadable expression. After a moment, April breaks the silence, her patience clearly at its limit. "Sterling," she hisses, her tone sharp, cutting through the fog of Sterling’s thoughts. "The life or death situation?"

Right. Sterling blinks, trying to shake off the lingering guilt and hesitation from her conversation with Blair. She picks the phone back up, her hands trembling slightly as she dials Bowser’s number. Each ring feels like an eternity, and she can’t help but worry that maybe this time, he won’t answer.

But then, after a few rings, a familiar, gravelly voice comes through the line. "Bowser."

The single word, spoken in that deep, gruff tone, washes over her like a wave of comfort. The tension in her shoulders loosens, her heartbeat slowing just a little. Bowser may not be the warmest person, but he’s steady. Reliable. He’s the kind of person you want in your corner when everything is falling apart. And right now, everything is falling apart.

“Bowser,” she says, relief flooding her voice. Just saying his name makes the situation feel a little more manageable.

“Sterling,” he replies, the surprise evident in his voice. "You worried us. Where are you?"

His concern, though gruff, makes her heart clench. For a moment, she feels a pang of guilt for disappearing the way she did, for worrying the people who care about her. But there’s no time for that now. They need help.

“Um…” Sterling glances out the rain-soaked windshield, mentally rewinding through the chaotic blur of their frantic escape. She tries to remember the last sign they passed on the side roads near I-95. It’s all a jumble, but after a second, she settles on something that sounds right. “Somewhere near Forbes Village.”

"Forbes Village?" Bowser echoes, and she can hear the sound of typing in the background. There’s a brief pause before he speaks again. "Forbes Village in East Hartford?"

Sterling nods before realizing he can’t see her. “I think so,” she confirms, her voice shaky. She glances at April, who’s watching her with a mixture of impatience and concern.

“What the hell are you doing in East Hartford?” Bowser’s voice cuts through her thoughts again, still rough around the edges, but with an undercurrent of genuine worry.

Sterling opens her mouth to answer, but the words catch in her throat. How does she even begin to explain? She takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “It’s… complicated,” she starts, her eyes flicking to April for support. “We’re being followed.”

“Followed?” Bowser repeats, his tone growing more serious. “By who?”

Sterling swallows hard, gripping the phone tighter. “I don’t know exactly who,” she admits, her voice trembling just a little. “But there’s this bag… of meth. It was in the car.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end, and she imagines Bowser blinking in disbelief. “Meth?” he says flatly.

“Yeah,” Sterling continues, her voice barely above a whisper. “A lot of it. Like… a lot.”

She hears Bowser let out a low, frustrated sigh. "And why the hell is there meth in your car?"

“It’s not my meth!” Sterling blurts out defensively, running a hand through her damp hair, pushing it back from her face. “It’s Dana’s.” The words spill out of her in a rush, the whole bizarre, terrifying ordeal tumbling from her lips before she can stop herself. 

There’s a long pause on Bowser’s end. Sterling can practically hear him processing everything she just said, his mind working through the details.

“So, let me get this straight,” Bowser says finally, his voice gruff but steady. “You’ve got a bag of meth in your car, your car that is broken down, you’re being followed by some guy, and you’re somewhere near East Hartford?”

“Yeah,” Sterling says, nodding again, even though he can’t see her.

Another pause. Then Bowser sighs again, and this time, it’s more resigned than frustrated.  “I’m coming but you are a 17hour drive away from me so…” he trails off for a second “Get out of the car, I don’t care if it starts working or not. Get out of the car, take the bag, put it in the car, lock it and call a taxi.” He pauses for a second and she can hear Yolanda’s voice in the background. “There's a motel about twenty minutes away from your location called ‘Travel Inn Motel’ go there and I’ll find you.” 

A rush of relief floods through Sterling, her shoulders slumping as some of the tension finally drains away. She doesn’t realize how tightly she’s been gripping the phone until her fingers ache. "Thank you," she whispers.

“Hang tight,” Bowser instructs, his tone firm. “And don’t do anything stupid.”

Sterling almost laughs at that, but the sound gets caught in her throat. “Got it.”

The call ends, and she lowers the phone slowly, glancing over at April. “He’s coming,” Sterling says, her voice quieter now. “Bowser’s coming.”

April nods, her gaze shifting to the rain-soaked road ahead of them. “Good,” she mutters, her voice tight. “But we still have a bag of meth and a broken-down car.”

Sterling bites her lip, eyes flicking down to the phone in her hand. The screen glares back at her as her fingers automatically begin to move, already searching for the nearest taxi service. “We’re leaving the car,” she announces.

April’s head snaps toward her, eyes wide with disbelief. “What?”

Sterling doesn’t look up from the phone. Her fingers hover over the call button, her mind racing. “We’re leaving the car,” she repeats, firmer this time. “Putting the meth in the car and leaving the car.”

April stares at her like she’s lost her mind, her eyes darting between Sterling and the bag of meth still lying out in the open, slick with rain on the road. Sterling can feel the weight of her stare but refuses to meet her gaze. Instead, she sighs and glances over at April, her thumb still poised over the screen. “I’m calling a taxi. Can you go get the meth?”

Get the meth. Sterling nearly winces at the absurdity of her words, the sheer normalcy with which they pass her lips. Not a sentence she ever thought she’d utter. But given who her birth mother turned out to be, maybe it’s a miracle this is the first time she’s saying it. If Debbie hadn’t taken her in…

“Get the meth?” April huffs incredulously, arms crossing over her chest as she glares at Sterling, waiting for an explanation that won’t come. Sterling’s focus has already shifted to the phone, the screen lighting up as the call connects to a nearby taxi service. She’ll work on defusing April’s anger later—when they’re safe.

"Get the meth," April repeats, her tone dripping with disbelief before she finally throws her door open. “Fine.” She storms out of the car, her footsteps crunching against the wet gravel as she goes to retrieve the bag from the road.

Sterling watches her through the windshield for a moment before stepping out of the car herself. The phone rings in her ear as she walks toward the nearest street sign, squinting through the rain to read it. When the call connects, she quickly rattles off the address, her voice low but firm. They’re close. They’ll be here soon.

As Sterling heads back to the car, she sees April has wrapped the meth haphazardly in her cardigan and is shoving it into the backseat. April looks up, shooting her a glare and Sterling wisely says nothing. Instead, she begins gathering her own belongings from the car, stuffing them into her bag with a sense of urgency. 

Once she’s packed, April speaks up, her voice cutting through the silence. “ Why are we leaving both the meth and the car?”

Sterling shrugs, her eyes flicking down to her phone again. “That’s what Bowser said to do.”

April’s eyes narrow in skepticism. “And you trust him?”

“Absolutely,” Sterling answers without hesitation.

They stand in silence for a moment, the rain tapping softly against the roof of the car, before something clicks in Sterling’s mind. Suddenly, Bowser’s reasoning makes sense. 

“If we leave the car and the meth, it doesn’t matter what he’s tracking,” she says, her voice gaining strength. “He can find the meth without finding us. And if he finds the meth, maybe he’ll leave us alone.”

April nods slowly, digesting the logic as the low hum of a car engine grows louder in the distance.

The taxi pulls up to the curb, the tires hissing against the wet pavement. Sterling climbs into the backseat, shaking off the rain from her jacket as she settles into the worn leather. The scent of damp upholstery fills her nostrils, mingling with the faint smell of fast food lingering from previous passengers. April slides in next to her, tense and silent, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

The driver glances at them through the rearview mirror, his eyes scanning their soaked and disheveled state with mild curiosity but says nothing. Sterling meets his gaze briefly before looking away, too exhausted to offer an explanation. She rattles off the name of the motel to the driver before settling back in her seat. 

The driver nods and pulls the car away from the curb, the rain beating relentlessly against the windows. The ride is silent save for the rhythmic swoosh of the windshield wipers and the low hum of the engine. Sterling stares out at the blur of passing streetlights, her mind heavy with everything that’s happened and everything still to come. April sits rigid beside her, and though they’re only inches apart, the distance between them feels vast. 

When they finally pull into the parking lot of the ‘Travel Inn Motel’ twenty minutes later, the reality of their situation hits her again. The place looks even more run-down up close, its neon sign flickering weakly in the rain, casting a sickly yellow light over the cracked pavement. The building itself is a squat, faded structure with peeling paint and rusted railings, the kind of place you’d stay if you wanted to disappear.

Sterling pays the driver in cash, not bothering to make eye contact, and steps out of the taxi into the rain. She feels April’s presence beside her as they make their way to the motel office, the sound of their shoes squelching against the wet ground the only noise between them.

The motel receptionist barely glances at them as they walk in. He’s slouched behind the counter, watching some ancient game show on a tiny, flickering TV in the corner. The room smells faintly of mildew and cheap air freshener, the scent doing little to cover the musty odor clinging to the air. She steps up to the counter and hands him the cash for the room without a word. He slides the key across the counter with a grunt, not even bothering to look up from his TV.

Sterling grabs the key and heads toward their room, the old metal keychain jingling in her hand as she walks down the narrow, dimly lit hallway. The carpet squishes under her feet, damp from the rain that’s been tracked inside. April follows in silence, her steps heavy as they approach the door marked with a chipped brass "12."

The room inside is exactly what Sterling expected—small, dingy, and suffocating. The carpet is threadbare in places, with mysterious stains dotting the floor. The wallpaper is peeling at the edges, yellowed with age and dampness, and the single overhead light casts a dull, flickering glow over the room. A faded painting of a landscape hangs crookedly on the wall above the bed, the colors long since washed out by time.

And then there’s the bed. A single, sagging mattress covered by a thin, scratchy blanket in a hideous floral pattern. Sterling stares at it for a moment, feeling a fresh wave of exhaustion wash over her. 

She drops her bag onto the floor, the weight of it thudding against the worn carpet, before wordlessly collapsing face-first onto the bed. The mattress creaks under her weight, lumpy and uncomfortable, but she’s too tired to care. The smell of old cigarettes clings to the pillow, but all Sterling can think about is how bone-deep her exhaustion is, how much she just wants to forget everything, even if just for a moment.

April stands at the foot of the bed, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes scanning the room with a look of distaste. Sterling can feel her watching, waiting for something - maybe for Sterling to say something, to acknowledge the elephant in the room. But Sterling doesn’t have the energy. She just wants to disappear into the mattress, let it swallow her whole, and forget about the meth, the car, the man chasing them, and whatever is still festering between them.

The rain beats steadily against the window, a soft, rhythmic sound that should be calming, but only seems to heighten the tension in the room. Sterling pulls herself up onto her elbows, glancing over at April.

"Do you want me to sleep on the floor if you don’t want to share again?” Sterling asks, her voice awkward, stumbling over the words as she glances at April. 

The silence hangs in the air for a moment, thick and uncomfortable. She watches as April’s lips press into a thin line.

April shakes her head tersely. “No,” she mutters, her voice clipped and offering nothing more. She’s already pulling clothes and toiletries out of her bag, her movements quick and controlled, like she’s doing everything in her power to avoid lingering in this conversation. Without another word, she disappears into the bathroom, the door shutting with a quiet click.

Sterling drops back down onto the bed with a tired sigh, the mattress sagging beneath her. It’s not even 3 p.m., but the adrenaline of the day has drained her, making her limbs feel like they’re weighed down with lead. Before she knows it, her eyes close, and she drifts off into a restless sleep.

When she wakes up, the first thing she notices is the silence. 

The rain has stopped. 

Sterling blinks groggily, sitting up slowly, her body stiff from the uncomfortable mattress. The room is dim, the only light coming from a small lamp on the nightstand. She glances around, feeling disoriented, then notices April sitting at the end of the bed, absorbed in a book she must’ve pulled from her bag. Sterling hadn’t even realized April had packed a book.

Although she should have known that April would bring a book with her no matter what the circumstance, including running away with her ex-girlfreind. 

Sterling watches her for a moment, her gaze softening as she takes in April’s familiar form, the way her brow furrows in concentration. She feels a strange pang in her chest, a fluttering of something she doesn’t want to fully acknowledge. Her eyes trace the curve of April’s cheek, the way her lips press together in a thoughtful frown. There’s a sudden, ridiculous urge to lean over and kiss that frown away, to feel the warmth of April’s skin against hers, but she quickly shakes the thought from her mind. Now’s definitely not the time for...whatever this is.

She tears her gaze away, forcing herself to focus on something else, anything else. Her eyes land on the window, and she stands, moving over to it to peer outside. April must sense her movement because Sterling can feel her gaze shift, following her silently. Sterling tries not to think about how close April is, how the bed seems to dip slightly from the weight of her sitting there.

She stares out at the parking lot, relieved to see that it's mostly empty. There’s no sign of the familiar pickup truck that’s been haunting them, but the unease doesn’t leave her. 

They’re safe for now, but how long would that last?

“I think we’re good...for now,” Sterling says quietly, more to herself than April. Her voice feels small in the stillness of the room.

April doesn’t respond, not immediately. Sterling senses the tension, the weight of everything unsaid between them. It's like a wall neither of them knows how to break through, but it's there, looming over them.

Sterling bites her lip, suddenly feeling restless. “I...uh, I’m gonna grab some food from next door,” she mumbles, not sure if she's more eager to get food or to escape the heavy silence.

The food place she had seen next to the motel when they had pulled up to the motel was a Taco Bell which she knew from experience that April had strong opinions about (negative ones) but the purple sign was all she could make out through the rain. 

She glances up just enough to see April. "Do you want anything?" she adds quickly, tucking her hands into her jacket pockets, hiding how awkwardly they're fidgeting.

April’s reply doesn’t come right away, and when it does, it’s almost clipped. “Yes.” 

No clarification, no specifics - just one brusque word that leaves Sterling wondering what she’s supposed to bring back. It would be so much easier if April would just say it out loud. But, of course, easy conversations aren’t really their thing lately.

Sterling nods, even though April doesn’t see it, and grabs her jacket before heading toward the door. As she steps out, the cold air hits her face, but it does nothing to clear the muddled thoughts swirling in her head. She takes a breath, trying to clear her head, and crosses the empty parking lot, scanning the small strip of shops lined up against the rain-darkened pavement. 

Next to the Taco Bell is a fried chicken place that smells vaguely tempting, and farther down, there’s a small convenience store with flickering fluorescent lights inside. Sterling decides to start there and swings open the door, the faint chime of a bell echoing in the nearly empty shop. If she stocked up on foods here they can limit their exposure to the outside world while they are being hunted by a drug trafficking criminal. She grabs a basket and starts picking through the aisles, tossing in bottled water, a few bags of chips, and some vaguely healthy-looking granola bars, knowing that April would at least pretend to appreciate those.

Her mind drifts back to the motel room and April, sitting on the bed with that unreadable expression. Even now, Sterling can feel the awkward fluttering in her chest, the strange ache whenever she glances too long at April. Despite the danger they’re in, everything April does seems to spark something in her: the tight way she crosses her arms, the way her brows furrow in concentration, even her exasperated scoffs. Sterling swallows hard and grabs a pack of gum, suddenly needing something to do with her hands.

After loading up on supplies, she heads to Taco Bell and orders a couple of soft tacos, a quesadilla, and one of their limited-time desserts. It’s a simple enough order, so it doesn’t take them too long to make. 

The walk back to the motel is quiet, the world around her dark and still except for the soft hum of streetlights and the crunch of her footsteps on the damp pavement. By the time she reaches their room, she’s not sure if she’s more anxious about the danger looming over them or about how she’ll keep herself composed around April. With a steadying breath, she pushes open the door.

April is nowhere in sight but the bathroom door is shut so Sterling makes her way over to the bed to drop down the bag of food. Unlike the previous motel this one doesn’t have a desk for them to eat at. She drops the Taco Bell bag onto the bed, the crinkling paper breaking the silence. She splits the soft tacos in half before looking at the quesadilla. She wasn’t sure what April’s opinion on it would be. She curses herself for only getting one before decidnig to just ask April and if she wanted it they could split it in half. She’s confident April will turn her nose up at the dessert though, so she tucks it firmly onto her side of the bed.

She glances between the pile of food and the still shut bathroom door and tries to decide if she should get up and knock on the door to let April know the food is ready. If it was Blair on the otherside she would just yell that the food was ready and Debbie would give her her trademark look but it’s not Blair because Blair is miles away and probably worried sick about her. The guilt is sudden and overpowering and she blinks back the tears that come to her eyes unbidden. 

She is saved by April opening the bathroom door. Her eyes land on the Taco Bell bag, and her lips immediately curl into a grimace. If this were last week - if they were still together - Sterling knows she’d be getting a full-on lecture right now about her poor choice of food. But today, there’s only the grimace, and then a quiet sigh as April picks up one of her tacos.

Sterling clears her throat, her nerves prickling under April’s scrutiny. "I, uh, I got a quesadilla, too," she stammers, offering it awkwardly. "If...if you want some?”

April raises an eyebrow, casting the quesadilla a skeptical look.

The quesadilla is the final straw and all the opinions that she could tell April had been holding back came bursting out.

“You do know that stuff is just melted, processed plastic, right?” April lets out an exasperated huff. "Taco Bell isn’t even close to real Mexican food. It’s just fat, salt, and...well, mostly chemicals. That cheese? It’s like…90 percent oil. It doesn't even melt the right way!"

Sterling suppresses a smile as April goes on, her voice incredulous. “It’s practically fluorescent. You can’t seriously be okay eating this, can you? Look at these ingredients! If it’s even a quesadilla at all, it’s a quesadilla in the loosest possible sense. ”

April’s cheeks are slightly flushed as she rants, eyes sharp and full of disdain. The way her nose crinkles and her hands gesture dramatically—it’s all so April. Sterling tries to stay focused on the food, but her gaze keeps drifting back to April. She looks alive, with that fierce conviction Sterling has always admired, even if it’s just over a quesadilla. It shouldn’t make her heart skip a beat, but it does. Suddenly, the room feels warmer, and Sterling’s cheeks flush as she tries not to get lost in the sight of April tearing Taco Bell apart.

April seems to notice Sterling’s amused expression and narrows her eyes. “What? Don’t look at me like that - I'm serious. That cheese is like a science experiment gone wrong.”

“Okay, okay,” Sterling manages, hiding her grin. “So…maybe no quesadilla for you, then?”

April rolls her eyes but eventually relents, snatching one half of the quesadilla and taking the smallest of bites. She pulls a face immediately, confirming her stance. “Yeah, that’s about as terrible as I expected,” she mutters, setting it down and wiping her hands on a napkin.

Sterling stifles a laugh, trying to play it off as a cough, before taking another bite of her own taco. 

They eat in silence for a few moments, neither quite willing to break the quiet. Sterling knows they should be talking about what comes next. But right now, sitting across from April, she’s helplessly swept up in this tiny, stolen moment.

For a moment it’s like it used to be, before the bench, before Dana, before all the secrets came out. It’s just them in the quiet, together. 

But the warmth doesn’t last long. April finishes her taco and, as if a switch flips, her expression hardens. Sterling watches as she balls up her wrapper, tossing it into the bag with a flick of her wrist. Then she stands and heads toward the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Sterling sighs, staring at the closed door. She knows April doesn’t need the bathroom again - it’s only been a few minutes since she went last. No, April’s only in there because she needs some distance, some space from her. Sterling forces herself to accept it, though the hurt lingers in her chest, sharp and unyielding. She finishes her food in silence, trying to ignore the emptiness that seems to fill the room when April isn’t there.

She tosses her trash into the bin near the door and starts rummaging through her bag, pulling out her toiletries and pajamas. Her clothes are still damp from earlier, and the cold, clammy fabric clings uncomfortably to her skin.

She’s waiting for April to leave the bathroom so she can have her own shower. She doesn’t really know what to do with herself in the quite emptiness of the motel room, she wished she had packed a book like April did or she wished that the motel had a TV (but it didn’t) she wished that there was something she could do that meant she wasn’t stuck with only her thoughts for company and an angry April.  

She glances toward the bathroom, wondering how long April plans on staying hidden. She hears the sink running and wonders if April’s staring at herself in the mirror, or maybe she's wrestling with her own emotions, just as tangled and complicated as Sterling’s.

When the bathroom door finally creaks open, Sterling snaps to attention, fumbling with her pajamas as she tries to look busy. April steps out, her face blank, barely sparing Sterling a glance as she heads to the far side of the bed, slipping under the covers and turning her back with stiff finality.

Sterling swallows, feeling a pang at the cold shoulder. 

“I’m, uh…just gonna shower.” She gathers her things and heads into the bathroom, the warmth of the water soothing her tense muscles, though her mind keeps drifting back to April, replaying her every look and movement.

Once she’s done, she changes into her pajamas, towel-drying her hair quickly before she takes one last look in the mirror, trying to find some calm before facing the reality that tonight, they’ll be sharing a bed.

Back in the room, she turns off the light and slides under the covers, keeping as much distance as possible between them. The mattress dips beneath their combined weight, but it feels like miles stretch between them.

The nightmare starts slowly, pulling Sterling under like a heavy, unseen tide.

Sterling watches herself standing on the curb, framed by dim streetlights, clinging to Luke in a hug. She sees her own unguarded smile slipping into the night air, so oblivious to what’s about to happen that it makes her heart ache. Her mom's car pulls up, headlights casting eerie shadows around her. 

“Run,” she tries to shout to herself, her lips forming words that don’t make a sound. “Run, don't get in that car.”

But she’s silent, trapped behind some invisible barrier as she watches her past self open the door.

The woman in the driver’s seat looks like her mom, wearing that familiar, caring face, the way she used to tuck Sterling in, her hands gentle and safe. But Sterling’s insides twist; she knows what’s hiding behind that smile, the truth lurking just beneath it. She tries to yell, tries to pull herself back from that night, but all she can do is watch as her other self slips inside and shuts the door, sealing her fate.

The scene shifts, dragging her into the cramped, dinghy trailer, the air thick with the smell of mildew and cold, stale cigarette smoke. She’s inside, helplessly looking at herself, her arms tightly bound, her face pale and scared. Dana stands close, her expression unreadable, maybe even a little sad, while Levi looms nearby, his smirk cold and triumphant. He’s toying with something sharp, his eyes flicking over to her like she’s just another object. Her skin crawls with the sick feeling of his gaze, a mixture of anger and something darker.

Dana moves closer, murmuring reassurances she can’t hear, her voice lost in the nightmare haze. There’s a strange gentleness to Dana's touch, a softness that doesn’t fit in this dark place, and Sterling's heart breaks at the way her younger self leans toward her, grasping for any scrap of comfort. Dana’s fingers brush her hair, like she’s still a kid who just had a nightmare, and Sterling wants to scream at herself not to trust it. She watches as Dana glances back at Levi, the tenderness fading from her face. The edges of the trailer press in closer, like they’re trying to crush her, leaving her breathless, a trapped animal with no way out.

It’s different this time.

There's no Bowser, no Blair.

Only Dana and Levi and the impending feeling that she wasn’t going to get out of it this time.

Levi grabs her arm, dragging her toward the door. She watches herself struggle, eyes wide with fear as she’s pulled toward the dark night outside, and Sterling’s stomach drops. She knows this is the point of no return. You’re not getting out of this, her mind whispers, the nightmare wrapping around her like quicksand. Levi pushes her into the back seat, slamming the door, and the last glimmer of safety fades as darkness closes in. 

She’s not getting out.

Somewhere in the depths of that despair, Sterling finally screams, a sound ripped raw from her throat.

The scream pulls her awake, her body jerking upright as she gasps for air, her hands clutching at the sheets as though they’re the only things anchoring her to reality. Her heart thunders in her chest, and she’s still half-locked in the nightmare, its shadows clinging to her, echoing in her mind. The room is dim, the shadows stretching across the walls, but it’s just the motel. It’s safe - she’s safe.

“Sterling.” April's hand lands on her arm startling her. 

She blinks in the dark with the remnants of the nightmare still clining on her as she looks next to her at where April is sitting up in the bed looking at her.

The scream must have woken her up as well. 

April’s face is different now, softer, no trace of the anger she’d fallen asleep with. There’s only concern etched in her expression, her mouth set in a way that tells Sterling she’s not looking away anytime soon.

“Sorry,” Sterling mumbles, dropping her head to wipe at her face with the back of her hand. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

April doesn’t respond immediately, just watches her in silence, her hand lingering on Sterling’s arm. The contact is warm, a quiet, grounding presence that Sterling can feel even through the fabric of her sleeve.

“Sorry,” she repeats, the word feeling more like an apology for everything - waking April, the nightmare, the mess between them. Finally, she forces herself to meet April’s eyes again.

April’s gaze is steady, her lips pressed into a thoughtful line as she takes in Sterling, as if she’s reading every part of her. Then, finally, April speaks, her voice unwavering. “What was the nightmare?”

“It doesn’t - ” Sterling begins, but April’s hand tightens ever so slightly on her arm, a gentle but firm insistence.

“What was the nightmare?” she repeats, her tone softer this time, leaving no room for evasion.

Sterling hesitates, the words catching in her throat. She wets her lips, drawing a deep breath before settling back against the headboard, almost as if pulling back will somehow make this easier to say. April moves with her, mirroring her position until they’re both sitting up in the bed, shoulders nearly brushing, both facing ahead.

She starts hesitantly, piecing together the nightmare in fragments, as she speaks. Knowing that April is finding out more information about what had happened that night than she had previously known.

At somepoint Aprils hand lands back on her arm, soft and grounding as Sterling speaks. 

When she finishes, she risks a glance at April, her heart pounding. April’s gaze is distant for a moment before focusing and becoming soft. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” April says, eyes locked with hers, “thanks for telling me.” 

Sterling shrugs, it’s not like April had given her much choice in the matter, but she had to admit she was feeling much better than all the times she had stayed silent or brushed April off. 

It feels better now, even with all the emotional turmoil, sitting here in the dark with April with no more secrets. She knew that they would have to talk more and that this was simply a brief respite but maybe just maybe they would be able to get through this. 

Sterling stirs awake, surprised by the calm that seems to wrap around her like a blanket. She squints at the dim light that seeps through the thin motel curtains, soft and muted. Her eyes slide to the clock on the nightstand. Ten a.m. That’s… around nineteen hours since she called Bowser. She swallows, hoping he’s close by now, though she knows that he would’ve had to stop somewhere along the way and that he’s probably still a few hours out.

As she rolls over, she finds April perched on the edge of the bed, deep in yet another book. Sterling’s eyes widen slightly, wondering just how many books April managed to pack, even in this whirlwind escape. April’s focus is unyielding, her gaze set, face unreadable, brows slightly knit. 

When April senses her stirring, their eyes meet, and the world narrows to just the two of them in the silence. April’s expression is neutral but softened, free from yesterday’s anger. Sterling notices her hair, slightly mussed from sleep, the loose waves framing her face in a way that feels achingly familiar yet somehow brand new.

Sterling has never wanted to kiss her more. 

She wants to reach out, wants to close that inch of space between them, wants to know if it would feel as right as it used to.

It hits her with a surprising force just how much she wants to kiss April, wants to reach across the space between them and feel that electric connection again. Her pulse quickens, her heart almost willing her to lean closer, but uncertainty prickles, making her pause. Is it all one-sided now? Does April feel anything for her anymore, or is that chapter just… closed? She can’t cross that line, not without knowing, not when April’s walls are so firmly back in place.

She swallows the longing, suppressing it by pushing herself up and crossing the room to where she stashed the convenience store bag last night. Bending down, she roots through it for something to distract herself. She grabs two water bottles, a pair of granola bars, and a small bag of chips for herself. Her fingers tremble slightly, though she tries to keep her motions steady, nonchalant, as if she can fool herself and maybe even April into thinking this is just another morning.

When she turns back, April is watching her with a neutral, unreadable expression that makes her pause.

Sterling holds out the granola bars, the unspoken gesture, “Breakfast?”

April hesitates, then nods, reaching over to take one and one of the bottles of water. Her fingers brush Sterling’s for a moment, and the contact sparks something, but it’s so brief, so understated, it could almost be dismissed. 

Almost.

“Thanks,” April murmurs, her voice softened by sleep, and she returns her attention to her book, though Sterling catches the slight pink at her cheeks.

Sterling lets out a slow breath and cracks open a water bottle, taking a sip as she moves to the window. She peers outside, her eyes sweeping the motel parking lot, searching.

No pickup truck.

Either the man is unable to find them here, or maybe, hopefully, he has no more interest in them. 

“We’re safe,” she says, more to herself, still staring out the window, willing it to be true, watching the road for the familiar pickup truck.

April’s voice is sharp behind her. “Are we?”

Sterling glances over her shoulder, instantly catching the frown on April’s face, the barely contained irritation in her eyes.

Great. She’s angry again. 

It’s too early for this.

"Can you not," she mutters, turning back to the window, hoping to deflect whatever is boiling under the surface. She hears April’s book shut with a snap, and then the soft creak of the bed as April stands.

“‘Can I not?’” April’s voice is closer now, icier. “Sterling, do you even get what you did?”

Sterling slowly turns around, crossing her arms, meeting April’s gaze with a mix of weariness and defiance. “What, what exactly did I do?”

“You, you screwed me over,” April’s voice pitches, her fists clenched at her sides. “You lied to me, over and over again, you kept talking about being open and honest and the whole time you were lying to me!” 

The words cut, sharper than she expected. Sterling shifts her weight, her shoulders stiffening. “I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry doesn’t cut it!” April’s face reddens, her anger erupting.“you keep apologising and then you keep screwing me over!”

Sterling feels a spark of her own anger ignite, frustration pushing her to throw her hands in the air. “You don’t think I’m hurt and angry too?”

April scoffs, taking a step closer, her voice a bitter whisper. “What could you possibly be angry about?”

“Luke,” Sterling snaps back, her voice raw. She steps forward, meeting April’s challenge head-on. “I get that I pushed you too hard to come out, okay? And I am sorry for that. But did you have to shut me down like that?”

April’s expression falters, but only for a second.“It’s not like you listened all the other times!” 

That was true, Sterling lets out a breath of air before speaking. “There were other ways you could have done it. You were being cruel .” 

It’s not like she didn’t know that April had a cruel and sometimes ruthless streak. Their relationship since 5th grade showed that clearly but for it to suddenly be shoved back in her face after all their stolen kisses and glances had hurt and it had meant that she had already been having a bad day even before being kidnapped. 

April’s eyes flash, her anger battling something softer, something she’s clearly trying to suppress. “Fine. Maybe I was cruel,” she admits, voice taut. “But I was scared, Sterling. I thought my dad knew about us, and if he knows about us it’s dangerous. I needed to make you stop.”

April takes another step forward, her finger jabbing into Sterling’s chest, and Sterling feels her own heart beat hard in response. “He was asking about you, Sterling. You put me in danger. My dad was grilling me about you because of that stunt you pulled! Because you’re the reason he went to jail—”

“He assaulted a sex worker!” Sterling interjects sharply, unwilling to let that go. But April barrels past her words.

“- so he was asking dangerous questions because of you! And then, then you drop off the face of the earth so I’m worried about you and now we’re hiding out in some crappy motel because you are being chased by a drug dealer! None of which would have happened if you would just have told me the truth!” 

“The drug dealer is not my fault!” Sterling’s voice cracks, and she pauses, her breaths coming in sharp bursts. 

“The drug dealer is a direct result of your secrets!” April snaps.

“No!” Sterling yells back, “the drug dealer is as a result of my mothers secrets! Debbie lied about being my mother and then my actual birth mother kidnapped me and put the drugs in the car hence the drug dealer!” 

April is silent, her chest rising and falling quickly, her mouth a thin, furious line as she stares at Sterling. The words hang in the air, thick and heated, the weight of them pressing against Sterling’s heart. April’s face is still flushed, her anger palpable, but there’s something else there, something that pulls at Sterling’s own heart. Her eyes drift over April’s face, lingering on her clenched jaw, her parted lips, the emotions flashing in her eyes.

Without warning, April closes the gap between them, and suddenly her lips are on Sterling’s in a kiss that’s fierce, almost angry, every ounce of frustration and pent-up emotion coming through. Sterling’s heart hammers in her chest, and she kisses back, her hands finding April’s shoulders, pulling her closer as the tension and hurt melt into something else—something unrestrained and electric.

April’s hands are at Sterling’s waist, firm yet hesitant, like she’s not entirely sure if she should be doing this, but can’t stop herself. The kiss deepens, each of them testing the other, pushing and pulling in a storm of conflicted feelings. Sterling’s senses reel with the feel of April’s touch, the taste of her, everything she’s wanted for so long and everything she’s been afraid of.

April pulls back slightly, her breath ragged as she looks at Sterling, eyes still fierce but softened by something she can’t quite mask. Sterling’s fingers brush against April’s cheek, hesitant, tracing the line of her jaw.

“Can we actually talk now?” Sterling asks, “without yelling?” 

April is silent for a moment, breaths coming fast. After a moment she nods and Sterling starts walking towards the bed to sit down. April follows behind her. 

Once they are sitting on the bed she reaches out to grab April's hand to hold and April doesn’t put up a fight about it, her hand soft and warm in Sterlings.

“I’m sorry,” she begins, her voice low but earnest, words tumbling out before she can second-guess them. “I’m sorry for lying to you. I should have told you about your dad, about bounty hunting - all of it. I just… I liked you so much. I convinced myself it didn’t matter, that I could keep the pieces of my life separate.”

April tilts her head slightly, a soft smile ghosting across her lips. “So much?” she asks quietly.

“So much,” Sterling echoes, a flush creeping up her cheeks as she ducks her head. “But I should have been honest.”

“You should have,” April says, though her tone lacks its usual bite. There’s a gentleness there that Sterling hadn’t expected. “But... I can understand. When we were together, it was like everything else just faded. Like it was just us.” 

It’s silent for a moment and she wants to lean over and kiss April again, now that April had bridged that gap first there was nothing Sterling wanted to do more than to just keep kissing April but she knew too much was still unresolved. 

“When we were together it felt like anything was possible,” she says after a moment picking up from what April had said. “So I pushed you too hard to come out, I thought that together we could do anything and I didn’t, I didn’t listen to you and I’m sorry.” 

She’s painfully aware of the urge to say more, to explain herself fully, to spill out everything she’s been holding inside. But for once, she reins herself in. She needs to let April process it without trying to steer the conversation, without the usual whirlwind of words that might end up doing more harm than good.

But she can’t hold it all in, so she adds quietly, “I know better now. I won’t push you like that again. If... if there’s any way you’d want to try again, I want you to know I’d do things differently.”

April’s face softens, her expression somewhere between uncertainty and the beginnings of hope. “I don’t know,” she says finally, her gaze meeting Sterling’s with a kind of honesty Sterling has missed. “My feelings for you didn’t just disappear,” she says, gesturing vaguely around the motel room. “I wouldn’t be here if they had. But... I just don’t know.”

Sterling nods, throat tight, pushing down the urge to say more, to plead her case. She swallows hard, searching for something to say. “I understand,” she says quietly. She looks down at her lap, the loss heavy in her chest, before looking back at April. “But is... is that the only reason you came with me? Your feelings, I mean?”

April shakes her head, her expression shifting, but she doesn’t elaborate. Sterling waits, giving her space, hoping that maybe the quiet will coax out something more.

“Was it... your dad?” she asks after a moment, her voice tentative.

April’s lips press together, and she gives a slow, resigned nod. After a moment, she speaks, her voice threaded with a bitterness. “He just walked back into our house like nothing ever happened. Like he hadn’t assaulted someone and torn our family apart. And then - then he had the nerve to say he needed a break.” April’s jaw tightens, her voice thick with frustration. “He makes my mom go with him to some vacation home, like he’s the one who’s had it rough, leaving me to fend for myself.”

She lets out a long, trembling sigh, and Sterling watches her, feeling the rawness of April’s pain as if it were her own. April looks away, staring at some invisible point on the wall. “I just needed to get away too,” she finishes, her voice barely more than a whisper.

April sighs deeply, and Sterling sees the layers of pain there, the weight April’s been carrying alone. Sterling’s thumb moves lightly over April’s knuckles, wishing she could find the right words to lift some of that weight.

April meets her gaze, and for a moment, everything is quiet, the lingering tension replaced by something soft and fragile. Sterling holds her breath as April’s hand shifts, her fingers trailing gently along Sterling’s jaw, hesitant but purposeful. Sterling’s heart pounds as April leans in slowly, her gaze flicking down to Sterling’s lips, and the air between them tightens, the unspoken feelings finally closing the distance.

Their lips meet in a gentle, tentative kiss, April’s touch soft and searching, as if she’s testing the possibility of letting herself be vulnerable. Sterling feels the warmth of April’s lips, a shiver running down her spine as she reaches up to touch April’s cheek, fingers brushing over her skin.

The kiss deepens, slow and tender, every second unraveling the tension of the last few days, every brush of their lips a silent reassurance. It’s gentle, not urgent, but full of all the emotions neither of them can put into words. April’s fingers thread into her hair, and Sterling lets herself lean closer, her heart pounding with that same dizzying certainty she’d felt the first time they kissed.

After a moment, April pulls back, her forehead resting against Sterling’s, their breaths mingling in the quiet. April’s gaze is soft, a hint of vulnerability and maybe even hope shining through.

A sharp knock on the door sends a jolt through Sterling. Her breath catches, heart thumping wildly as she rises from the bed, dread tightening her chest. She’s barely breathing as she steps closer, every muscle tensed as she peers through the peephole.

Relief floods her in an instant as she sees Bowser’s familiar face on the other side. She lets out a shaky breath, her hand resting briefly against the door, feeling a weight lift. Bowser’s here. This, finally, feels like safety.

But as she turns the handle and begins to open the door, it bursts inward with unexpected force. She stumbles back, her surprise melting into confusion as she catches sight of a figure slipping in right behind Bowser.

“Blair,” she breathes, almost disbelieving, the name catching in her throat. Blair must have been right behind him, waiting, seething, ready to ambush her the moment she got the chance. Sterling's relief fizzles as her sister’s furious eyes meet hers, dark with hurt and betrayal.

“What the hell, Sterling?” Blair snaps, her voice low but biting, slicing through the air between them. “Do you know what you've put us through?” She doesn't even glance at April; her focus is all on Sterling.

Sterling tries to speak, but her voice catches, her pulse racing as she struggles to find words, even a fragment of an explanation that would make sense to Blair. But before she can manage a single word, Blair’s already charging forward, arms crossed tightly over her chest, anger radiating from her.

“Running off without a word, just like that?” Blair’s voice is sharp, her words cutting deeper than Sterling expected. “And for what? To hide out in a shitty motel with April Stevens?” She shoots a disdainful glance toward April, who shifts beside Sterling, her expression unreadable but her shoulders visibly tense.

“Blair…” Sterling tries, her voice soft, hoping for any chance to soften the blow, to ease Blair’s fury. “I -”

“No, don’t,” Blair interrupts, shaking her head as if even hearing Sterling’s voice is painful. “Don’t try to explain this to me. You don’t get to just disappear like that and expect an easy out. Do you even understand what that did to me? To us?”

Blair’s words sting, guilt swelling in Sterling’s chest as she absorbs the weight of what she’s done. She can’t look away from Blair’s face, the anger there, but even more than that, the hurt. She’s never seen Blair like this, never seen her so genuinely, deeply wounded by something Sterling had done. She thought the anger and betrayal Blair had felt after the break up with Myles was bad and it had nothing on the emotions and Blairs face now. 

“I’m sorry,” Sterling finally manages, her voice barely above a whisper. But Blair only scoffs, her face hardening.

“Sorry?” Blair’s laugh is hollow, disbelieving. “You’re sorry? That’s it?”

Bowser, who’s been silently watching the exchange, clears his throat, his presence grounding Sterling amidst the storm of Blair’s emotions. She glances at him, grateful for the quiet strength he radiates.

“Look, Blair,” Bowser says, his tone low, measured. “Just hear her out, okay?”

But Blair’s barely listening, her attention snapping back to Sterling. “Then let’s hear it,” she says, arms crossed tighter, as if she’s trying to guard herself from whatever comes next. “Give me one good reason why you thought this was okay.”

Sterling opens her mouth, but her voice falters. “I, I -” She’s grasping for words, anything to make this right, but they slip through her mind, dissolving under Blair’s unyielding glare. Her throat feels tight, and a flicker of panic flutters in her chest. But then, suddenly, April’s hand finds hers, slipping into her grasp with a gentle squeeze, steady and grounding. The warmth calms her, emboldens her. She takes a breath, clears her mind, and tries again.

“I don’t have one,” Sterling says, voice quiet but firm. She shrugs, letting the weight of the truth settle between them. “I was hurt, Blair. I felt like everything I knew was a lie, and I just wanted to get as far away from it as possible. I’m sorry.”

Blair’s glare sharpens, her hurt flashing like a blade. “But I didn’t lie to you!” she yells, taking a step forward. “That was Mom and Dad! I didn’t know either!”

“I know,” Sterling replies, exhaling a heavy breath. Her gaze drops for a moment, words tumbling out in a rush. “I know you didn’t. I know this isn’t your fault. But when I found out, it was like my whole world flipped upside down. I just… I couldn’t stay.”

“I would have come with you,” Blair says, her voice, quieter now, holds a sharp edge of betrayal. “if you’d asked. But instead you choose April… again.” 

The unspoken accusation lingers heavily between them. Sterling glances down, feeling the warmth of April’s hand still holding hers, an anchor in the storm. She looks back up at Blair, struggling to form a response that won’t tear another wound open.

Blair’s gaze flickers to their entwined hands, and the hurt there is almost unbearable.

Bowser clears his throat, "Alright, ladies -"

"Ladies. Gross," Sterling and Blair chorus simultaneously. 

Their eyes meet, and for the briefest second, a smile breaks through Blair's guarded expression. But the moment is fleeting, and her smile slips away as quickly as it came, leaving an ache in Sterling’s chest.

"Okay, girls," Bowser corrects himself with a wry look, glancing between the two of them. "We should head out. Sterling, where’d you leave the car?"

Sterling gives him the name of the street remembering it from when she had called the taxi. 

Bowser nods. “Okay, Pack up fast and meet me outside; we’ll take my truck.”

Sterling squeezes April's hand once before releasing it, and they both move around the room, stuffing belongings into bags and making sure they leave nothing behind. Every now and then, Sterling sneaks a glance at her sister, catching Blair watching her before quickly looking away.

Once they’ve shoved the last of their things into their bags, they head out to the parking lot. Bowser’s truck sits idling, a welcome sight amidst the worn-out cars and faded paint of the motel lot. Blair’s already inside, her face set as she stares out the window, avoiding Sterling’s gaze.

Sterling climbs into the back beside April, feeling the familiar hum of the engine beneath her and the reassuring presence of Bowser up front. It feels safer somehow, like they’re finally putting some distance between themselves and the past few days of chaos. The truck pulls out of the lot, and as the motel fades behind them, Sterling glances at April, offering a faint smile that she hopes conveys everything she hasn’t had a chance to say.

The twenty minute drive to where they had left the car the previous day is filled with tension. April's hand had found her own and provided some comfort from the anger radiating off Blair where she sat at the passenger seat. Bowser pulls the car up behind their abandoned car and Sterling follows him out, after a second April follows her out as well, realising that Blair had no intention of getting out of the car. Sterling could imagine the last thing April wanted was to be stuck in the car with a furious Blair. Blair might hold back with Sterling due to their bond but with April she would have no such hesistion. 

Bowser walks up to the car and she follows behind him. Sterling’s stomach drops as she looks at the car; the windows are shattered, and inside, the bag of meth is conspicuously absent.

““So… does that mean we’re safe?” She gestures between herself and April, her voice barely concealing her hope.

Bowser nods thoughtfully, his gaze shifting between her and the wreckage. “I’d say so. He just wanted the meth.” He pauses, meeting her eyes with a more serious expression. “But just in case, I should get you two home.”

The relief floods through her, making her limbs feel weak. The crisis, as far as she can tell, is finally over. “What about the car?” she asks, her gaze returning to the dented, broken-down vehicle.

It’s not like they could just leave the car in the middle of the road for much longer. It was registered in her mom's name and the last thing she wanted was for the police to ask questions. 

Bowser pulls out his phone, a slight frown creasing his brow. “I’ll organise a tow truck. You two can go wait in my truck.”

Sterling nods, glancing at April before looking over at the truck where Blair’s form is barely visible, tense and rigid in the passenger seat. She sighs and heads toward the truck but stops short, leaning against the side instead. April joins her, falling in beside her with a quietness that speaks volumes.

The sky above is a crisp, endless blue, as if the stormy chaos of yesterday never existed. April’s voice breaks the stillness. “Blair will calm down. She’ll forgive you.”

Sterling swallows, the weight of Blair’s anger still pressing on her chest. “Will she?”

“I did,” April says gently. “And I think our situation was worse than whatever’s going on between you and Blair right now.” April’s hand gives a small squeeze, her voice soft. “Plus, she’s your twin. That means you get more leeway.”

“She’s not really my twin,” she responds despondentaly, “if we are being accurate she’s actually my cousin.” She says although the words still feel like a lie. Blair is her twin but apparently she isn’t. 

“No.” April says, shaking her head, “she’s your twin. Screw biology. I’ve never met anyone who was more twins than you and Blair.” She grins, nudging Sterling.  “It’s the only possible explanation for how annoying the both of you are together.”

Sterling’s lips twitch into a smile.“We’re annoying?” 

“Insufferable.” 

They lapse into silence, staring up at the clouds drifting across the sky. Bowser’s muffled voice can be heard from a few feet away as he speaks into his phone. The stillness between them is comfortable, and Sterling finds herself savoring it, wishing it could stretch on a little longer.

The words slip out before she can stop them. “You should come home with me.” Her cheeks warm, and she stumbles to clarify. “I mean, obviously, we’re driving back together, but… after we’re back, you shouldn’t go back to an empty house. You could stay at mine. With me.” She drops her gaze to the ground, cursing herself for how tangled her words sound.

April’s eyes hold hers, a slight crease of contemplation in her brow. She finally purses her lips, and Sterling braces for the careful answer she knows is coming. “Will your parents be okay with that?”

Sterling nods vigorously. “Yeah, totally. I mean, they might be angry at me—even though they’re the ones who lied—but they always liked you. And they wouldn’t want you in an empty house either.”

“It wouldn’t be permanent,”  April says slowly, gaze still firmly locked with hers. Sterling nods frantically. “And they can’t know about us.” April finishes.

“I know,” She responds, meeting April's gaze without flinching. 

She waits patiently as April thinks before after a minute she finally responds. “Okay.” 

 A quiet settles between them again, though the air feels lighter, filled with possibilities. April’s fingers brush against Sterling’s, hesitant at first, then settling as their hands intertwine. For a moment, they just stand there, fingers laced, watching each other as though every word they’ve shared hangs between them, unspoken but understood.

Then, with a gentle squeeze of Sterling’s hand, April leans forward, her lips meeting Sterling’s in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s tender and unhurried, a promise in the way April’s thumb strokes the back of her hand.

When they pull apart, April’s eyes linger on hers, full of warmth and something like hope. Sterling’s heart races, but in a way that feels safe, steady.

From the truck, Blair’s loud sigh breaks the moment, and Bowser gives them a pointed look as he finishes his call. Sterling and April share a soft laugh before heading back to the truck, fingers still loosely linked, ready to face whatever waits ahead.