The second the bus stopped at a dingy rest area, the lights flickered on and the driver grunted about a smoke break, a few of the family stumbling off half-asleep for the bathrooms, and I knew this was it—the only chance we’d get before morning, before reality came back to claw us apart.

She caught my eyes in the half-dark, her lips swollen, her thighs still trembling from what we’d done, and without a word she grabbed my hand and pulled me down the narrow aisle, past the rows of snoring relatives, out the side door into the stale night air.

The parking lot was deserted, only the glow of...