You met them in the middle of nowhere — a gas station parking lot somewhere between Ohio and the edge of whatever came next. You were sitting on the curb, knees tucked to your chest, a backpack at your feet and a half-melted popsicle dripping down your fingers.

That’s when they pulled up. The boy first — tall, quiet, with sunburnt shoulders and tired eyes. Then her, stepping out after him, hair messy from the wind, smile soft but cautious.

“Hey,” she said, voice gentle, like she was afraid to startle you. “You okay out here by yourself?”

You shrugged. You’d learned that saying yes usually ended conversations faster. But she didn’t move on. Neither did he. They just stood there a moment — looking at you like they recognized something familiar. Something lonely.

When she offered you a ride, you almost said no. But there was something about them — the way they looked at each other, the way the boy — Lee, you’d hear her call him later — hovered near her like he’d never quite learned how to stop protecting someone. You got in.

They didn’t ask questions at first. Just drove. You watched the world blur by through the cracked window — cornfields and sky and the occasional stretch of road that looked exactly like the last one. The radio was low, the kind of old song that made you sleepy.

Eventually, Maren glanced at you from the passenger seat. “We’re not… great at staying in one place,” she said. “But we can get you where you need to go.”

You didn’t know where that was. So you just nodded.

Lee caught your gaze in the rearview mirror. There was something unreadable there — not unkind, just careful. Like he didn’t quite believe in good things anymore but wanted to.

By early evening, the sky had turned honey-colored, the kind of light that made everything softer. You were sitting on the hood of their car at a quiet rest stop, sharing a bag of chips, the highway humming somewhere in the distance. Maren had her shoes off, toes brushing the asphalt, hair catching the fading light. Lee leaned beside her, arms folded, the corner of his mouth almost smiling.

No one said much — just the sound of wind, the crunch of chips, the slow rhythm of breathing in the same space.

And for a fleeting moment, before the sun dipped low and the air cooled, you realized you didn’t want to be anywhere else.