I picked up the bags. I made my shoulders straight, because she was watching, because they were all watching, and I gave her the first true promise of the rest of our lives.

“We’re going somewhere,” I said, “that nobody gets to close a door on us.”

Chapter 3 — The Harbor Light

The Harbor Light Motel sat on a frontage road beside the interstate, though there was no harbor anywhere near it and nothing you could call light.

The desk clerk watched me count the money left in my checking account down to the singles, and then, without being asked, quietly offered me a weekly rate that wasn’t posted on the sign.

Our room smelled like old carpet and lemon disinfectant. But the deadbolt worked, the sheets were clean, and no one in it was going to tell me to go home.

Maisie declared, the second we were inside, that we were on an adventure, and I could have kissed her for it.