“We have a flat tire,” I said, crouched outside the car on one knee.

It was dark out, and I couldn’t tell if we were in Montana or Idaho. The highway was quiet, but not dead—cars passed every few minutes, headlights slicing through the black. I doubted anyone would stop to help. That might’ve been for the better. We weren’t locals. We weren’t old. We weren’t straight. Attention was the last thing we needed.

“Fuck! It’s going to cost an arm and a leg to get someone out here, and this late,” Nick said from inside the car, his head poking out the window, watching me.

“I can change it. I know how to change a flat tire, so calm down,” I said, trying to sound confident.

It was so late I could hardly keep my eyes open. My body ached from days of driving, and my brain felt like it had been dipped in syrup. I just wanted us to reach another motel. Still, I felt an odd sense of pride—because for once, I was doing something we needed.

“You’re scared. I know you are,” Nick said as I dug through the trunk for the spare.

I had to fish it out from under all our stuff—duffel bags, food wrappers, a blanket we hadn’t washed in a week. It took time.

“Well, yeah. We ran away together. We’re the only people we have right now. No friends, no family, no nerds, no jocks. It’s just us. But a flat tire is nothing,” I said.

“I guess we’ve been keeping a lid on the pressure, haven’t we?” Nick asked.

“And there’s a lot of it,” I admitted.

It took fifteen minutes to change the tire. My hands were filthy, my knees sore from the gravel. But when I got back behind the wheel, I felt steadier.

“You’ve never been this far from home, have you? I know you’re scared,” Nick said.

“This—us—is my new home. But I’ll admit I’m still afraid. Of being me. Of being us. You have all the money. You’re smarter. Nick... you’re braver than me. You’re not afraid to be yourself. That’s why this is something I can do. I can protect us. But only if you keep helping me,” I said, trying not to sound emotional.

I had shown the cracks in my resolve too many times to count. For Nick to finally crack... I don't want to say his fear made me feel better, but it showed me that we were on the same page. And of course I was happy to finally be the one to reassure him. 

The road ahead was pitch black. Not even our headlights could cut through the void. It felt like we were driving through a tunnel with no end, but we knew daylight was coming.

“Check the glove box,” I said.

Nick opened it and found exactly what I meant for him to.

“Is this real?” he asked, holding the heavy metal in his hands.

“It’s my dad’s. When he gave me the car, I think he forgot it was in there,” I explained.

“We have a gun?”

“We have a gun... and a switchblade, a hunting knife, a couple of flares, first aid kit,” I said, listing off the things Nick somehow hadn’t found hidden around the car yet.

It was unloaded. But there was ammo stashed under the seats.

“Tom,” he said quietly.

“My dad went hunting a lot. Sometimes he’d take me with him. I know how to protect us if it ever comes to that.”

Truth be told, I was a horrible shot, and I never enjoyed killing things. But I meant to help Nick in that moment. I needed him to know I’d do whatever it took to keep us safe.