Love is Always Write Anthology Bonus Volume

yeah. Treasured memories and all that. We'll always have Paris, and remember me every time you bone your wife. Shit. I'm such an asshole. I mean— goodbye, Lukas. I'm not fucking recording this again."
    I took two deep breaths and then I called Mallory.
    "You bastard," she said before I could say anything. Her voice was thick, and a sob interrupted her, but she went on. "You stupid bloody fool."
    "Mallory, where is he?"
    "Where the hell do you think he is? On his way back to— to the only person on the goddamn planet who doesn't let him down. You—"
    "He's wrong , Mallory. I'm going to find him and tell him that. I'll find him faster if you tell me where he is."
    "Lukas—"
    "Mallory, do I say things I don't mean? I will find him. If you tell me where he is, maybe I can talk him out of this before his apartment and his job and his whole fucking semester is gone for no goddamn reason. He's wrong . My mom is here because I told her about Alan. She was confused and angry at first, but now she wants to meet him. It took me a day to get her there, but she wants to meet him. I got tonight off so I could invite him to dinner."
    "Oh, that idiot!" she groaned. I started for the door. "God, trust Alan to put the worst possible spin on anything and believe it to the bottom of his soul!"
    "Where is he, Mal?" Outside the window sleet was coming down. I went back and grabbed my trench coat, threw it over my arm.
    "Greyhound," Mallory said as I locked the door and pocketed the key. "I took him down there, but he wouldn't let me stay. Everything's in storage. His sister's somewhere in New York, I think she's touring with something or other. But Lukas— it's been two hours. I think the bus has gone."
    "Where is the Greyhound station?" I asked, trotting down the stairs.
    "They share space with an ugly little motel at Fifth and Amberlyn. Lukas— I tried to get him to talk to you. I couldn't believe you'd want to live a lie, but he was so sure and he— well, he was sure."
    "Mallory, I have to drive now."
    "God bless," she said. "Call me."
    Traffic was bad, and the weather was worse. I found the motel and went to the Greyhound desk and the woman told me they only had one bus out that morning, and it had just left. I ran outside and it was sitting at the light. Five windows back I saw Alan. He didn't see me. I took two steps towards my truck then the light changed and I knew there was no chance. The bus would reach the freeway before I could catch up. So I stood and stared and willed Alan to look at me.
    The bus turned, bringing Alan's absent gaze across the motel parking lot. He jerked upright, staring at my truck, then he searched— our eyes met as the bus accelerated. Alan pressed his fingers to his lips then put his hand on the window. I put my own hand up as if I could cover his. He mouthed something. Maybe goodbye , maybe fuck you . It was hard to tell.
    I said out loud, "I'll find you."
    Sleet soaked my hair and dripped down my back, but I stood there until a curve of the road took Alan away. Then I walked back to my truck, got in and punched the dash so hard the radio came on.
    ****
    All right. All right. Think. I might be able to get route information from the internet. Airlines didn't post detailed flight info until you bought a ticket, but— bought a ticket . Alan had been worried about working enough to make rent, and no way had he gotten paid for last week already. I started the truck and backed up and almost hit some guy in an Explorer. Damn, to not see that beast in my mirror… I took a deep breath and paid more attention to my driving.
    Bus tickets cost money that Alan probably didn't have. And the fastest way to get a bus ticket to someone a state away— was through the internet. I headed back to Alan's apartment.
    Like most people, Alan had his passwords saved. I opened his email with one click. In the deleted folder I found a message from service at greyhound.com with an itinerary ending in Albany, New York. I printed it. Then I hesitated, the mouse hovering over his address book. If somehow I couldn't find him, I might need more information. But— I checked if he had a password on his computer, and he didn't. If I needed more clues, I'd be able to get them. I shut the computer down and locked the door behind me.
    On the way out of town I stopped at my station to fill up and check my fluids. I told Jamal I was leaving town for an emergency having to do with my boyfriend, and he almost fell out of the cashier