Fielding drove them back to town, and they parked at the diner again. Logan and Joshua both texted their parents to let them know they were eating dinner out, and the three shared a booth while they ate. Fielding had the grilled cheese again and didn’t even pretend to mind Joshua’s gloating about it.
After they’d eaten, they walked him to the Mustang. There, they faced each other in a little triangle.
“You know that thing I kept saying about never seeing us again?” Logan shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “To hell with that.”
“What he said,” Joshua aimed a finger-gun at Logan, but kept his eyes on Fielding. “When are you heading back from the con?”
“It ends on Sunday afternoon. I’m staying overnight with my friends and then setting off first thing Monday.” Fielding tilted his head back and forth. “If I time it right, I think I could end up here for a late dinner, maybe.”
“You do that. We’ll see you there. Text us when you’re close. You’re our Glimmer now.” He pointed at Fielding’s shirt.
“I’m the Glimmer?” Fielding said.
“You do magic.” Joshua shrugged. “You’re the Glimmer.”
“I’m guessing you’re the Bow in this scenario,” Logan said.
“What? No.” Joshua flexed one admittedly impressive bicep. “Adora all the way, baby.”
“Fair enough,” Logan said. “Does that make me the cranky cat-girl?”
“I mean…” Joshua raised his hands, then opened his arms.
“It’s a good thing you’re hot,” Logan said, stepping into them.
Fielding smiled, watching them be cute and totally procrastinating getting back on the road. Was it really just this morning he’d wanted to blow right past this town?
So random.
“I have to go,” Fielding said. Saying the words might make him do it.
Joshua pushed Logan right into him and managed to crush Fielding into one huge hug, and Fielding squeezed them back. Logan made a little choking noise, so he stepped back.
He had to clear his throat. Again. He laughed. “I swear to God, this town.”
“Stop insulting my town, man,” Joshua said.
“See you Monday,” Fielding said, getting back in the Mustang before he could come up with another reason to delay. It didn’t stop him from watching them walk away, arm in arm, or waving back every time Joshua turned to do the same. Finally, they turned the corner of the loop and vanished out of his view.
He only sniffled a little.
Fielding picked up his phone and sent some of the day’s pictures on his group text with Anup and Kristin. He added a quick message.
He hit send and didn’t check to see if there was a reply before he pulled his map back up and slid the phone back into its holder, attaching the cord.
He glanced over, and Tate sat there, smiling in his direction.
“Oh sure. Now you’re back,” Fielding said.
Tate turned, looking forward. He pointed at something, and Fielding could imagine his voice, explaining patiently to be careful, to be aware, to act as though no one else on the road had the slightest idea what they were doing.
“We don’t know if you’re okay,” Fielding said. Tate’s echo didn’t react to his words, of course. It was just a memory, after all. “And I know this isn’t you. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye properly before you left.”
The echo of Tate settled back in the seat, comfortable and confident. Everything about his body language made it perfectly clear he wasn’t worried in the slightest about Fielding being in control of his most prized possession.
How had Fielding never noticed that before?
“That doesn’t mean I’m not mad at you, by the way. I hope…” Fielding paused. “I don’t know if you’re alive. But I’m going to assume you are.”
The echo of Tate turned his head, glancing at something that had been in front of them at some point. He said something, his mouth moving silently.
“When you get back,” Fielding said, “I’m going to tell you all about this day, which has honestly been a lot.” He turned, facing the echo. “But in the meantime? I’m okay.”
Fielding inhaled and reached for Tate with the part of him he didn’t quite understand but felt on an instinctual level.
Fielding pushed.
“This is not the last of you,” Fielding said.
Tate’s echo faded, coming apart in wisps that curled inside the Mustang for a heartbeat or two before vanishing. Once the last traces of the echo were gone, Fielding exhaled and glanced at his phone. He had a long trip ahead of him. He tapped at the screen, called up a playlist, and set the music going before he turned the display back to the map.
One shoulder check and two turns later, Fielding Roy pulled his Mustang out onto the road, heading in the right direction.