It started with a restless Saturday.
By then, Sky was healing enough to move without wincing every other step, but the walls of her house had started closing in on her. The puzzle table was full - two completed scenes stacked carefully against the wall, one half-finished image of a fishing dock sitting in front of them. The speaker had cycled through Tucker, TK Soul, and the "Comfort and Company" playlist so many times Jade could hum every intro without thinking.
Sky sat in her recliner with a mug of tea, staring out the window, when Jade came through the door. "Morning," Jade called, holding up a brown paper bag. "Egg and cheese croissants, because you've been talking about them all week."
Sky smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Thank you, sweetheart."
Jade set the bag down, watching her. "Okay, talk to me. Why do you look like somebody just told you they're out of sweet tea?"
Sky shrugged, picking at the edge of her blanket. "I just… I want to see something that's not my front yard."
Jade's brows lifted. "Say less." She clapped her hands together. "Get dressed. We're going for a drive."
Sky blinked. "Where?"
"Anywhere," Jade said, grinning. "We'll let the road decide. Grab your Bible and sunglasses, and let's go."
The Road Unfolds
Sky tried to act reluctant, but twenty minutes later she was in the passenger seat of Jade's car, the windows cracked just enough to let in the crisp late-morning air. The dashboard smelled faintly of strawberry air freshener, and the cup holders held two iced teas from the gas station down the road.
Jade queued up the playlist - this time adding in some gospel tracks between Tucker and TK Soul. "Balance," she said, winking. "Little bit of soul, little bit of spirit."
They took the back roads, the kind that wound through farmland and stretched past rust-red barns with peeling paint. They passed cows grazing under wide oaks, kids riding bikes in slow circles, and a man sitting outside a bait shop with a Styrofoam cup in one hand and a fishing rod leaning against his knee.
Every so often, Jade would turn the music down and point out something - a hawk circling overhead, a sunflower field blooming wild on the side of the road, a church sign that read Come as you are. Leave changed.
Sky found herself leaning into the quiet between songs. The movement of the car, the way the sun flickered through tree branches, the hum of tires against asphalt - it all felt like breathing after holding her breath too long.
The Diner Stop
An hour into the drive, they spotted a small-town diner with a sign out front that read "Breakfast Served All Day - Try the Pecan Pie." Jade slowed the car, shot Sky a look. "We're stopping."
They slid into a booth by the window, menus sticky from years of syrup spills and coffee refills. A waitress with bright red lipstick poured them water before they could ask.
"Two plates of biscuits and gravy," Jade ordered. "And two slices of that pie for later."
Sky chuckled. "Bossy."
"Protective," Jade corrected, just like she had the first week they met.
While they waited, Sky pulled her Bible from her bag. "You ever read scripture over biscuits and gravy?" she asked.
"Can't say I have," Jade said, leaning back. "But I'm open to new traditions."
Sky flipped to Psalms, her finger landing on a familiar verse. "Psalm 46:1 - 'God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.'" She read it softly, letting the words rest between them like warm bread on the table.
Jade nodded. "Feels about right for today."
The Twist in the Conversation
When the food came, so did a lull in the conversation. Sky glanced out the window at the road beyond the diner, then back at Jade. "You know my family wouldn't understand this," she said suddenly.
Jade paused, fork halfway to her mouth. "Us driving?"
"Us… at all." Sky set her fork down, her voice calm but tight. "They'd see this - us spending time together, me letting you into my life - and they'd think it's wrong. Not just because you're a woman, but because you're younger. That's two strikes in their eyes."
Jade met her gaze without flinching. "And what do you see?"
Sky hesitated. "I see someone who's made my recovery bearable. Someone who makes me laugh when I want to sulk. Someone I… care about."
Jade smiled faintly. "Then that's what matters." She took a bite, chewed, swallowed. "People always got opinions. But they're not living this life - you are. And I'm not going anywhere unless you tell me to."
Sky looked down at her plate, then back at Jade, something soft and unsure in her eyes. "You fight hard for what you want, don't you?"
Jade's voice was steady. "Always."
The Scenic Detour
After lunch, they kept driving, letting the road wind them toward a lakeshore dotted with picnic tables. Jade parked under a sprawling pine, and they sat on the hood of the car with the slices of pecan pie. The lake shimmered in the sun, ducks drifting lazily across the surface.
They didn't talk much. Sometimes the best moments didn't need words.
Sky closed her eyes, feeling the sun warm her face. She didn't pray out loud, but inside she whispered something - half thanks, half plea - for God to keep this peace in her life a little longer. For understanding, for courage, for the ability to hold onto joy even when the world thought it was misplaced.
Jade leaned back on her hands, glancing at Sky, and smiled. She didn't need to hear the prayer to know it was there.
Because some things, she was learning, you could feel without speaking.