“Max!”
I picked up my pace and pushed through a set of double doors. I could hear him behind me, and I contemplated darting out into traffic. That would have been easier to face. Instead, I took a deep breath and made myself turn south and continue as calmly down Broad Street as I could.
The next time he said my name, it was quiet, and it sent a quiver down my spine. “Max.” I had a feeling I would regret it, but I didn’t have it in me to keep running. I schooled my features and turned to face him.
“Hi, Cade.”
His expression gave nothing away as he asked, “What are you doing here?”
Straight to the point then.
I fumbled with my purse, glad that I’d prepared at least that much.
“I came to give you this. Milo told me you were here.” I held out an envelope and snatched my hand away as soon as he took it. I swallowed and said, “My parents had already bought your ticket. They got a refundable one, so I thought, um, I thought you could just change it from Oklahoma to Texas.”
He didn’t open the envelope, not even to look at the ticket inside. He just stared at me, his jaw set firmly and asked, “Is that all?”
In my head, I saw that blond girl touching him. That’s the second blonde I’d seen him with, both much more his type. Both the kind of girl my parents wished I was. If anything, this visit proved that I was right.
“That’s all,” I told him.
“Then why did you run?”
I did run, didn’t I? How embarrassing.
Because I was on the verge of doing something very stupid . . . like thinking I had made a mistake. Or thinking I stood a chance.
“Because you were busy. I was going to go grab a cookie from that food truck on campus, and then come back.” I was going to go stuff my face. Attractive. Good save, Max. “You should get back, though. I didn’t mean to take you away from the kids.” And Amy. I kind of wanted to maim Amy.
Silence grew up between us like weeds, and I didn’t know what else to say. I should turn around and leave. I should cut my losses, burn the end of the rope before it frayed further, but I couldn’t.
What if this was the last time that I saw him?
“I should go,” I said, except I didn’t leave. My feet had grown roots and burrowed into the concrete. “Um . . . it was good seeing you.”
His eyes searched mine, and I could see the distrust in them, like he was puzzling out my words, trying to decide if they were genuine.
I didn’t blame him.
Half the time I wasn’t even sure if I was genuine.
His expression was guarded in a way that it never had been before. Wearing a mask was my defense mechanism, and I hated that I had pushed him to it.
Whatever connection we’d had was long gone. I just needed to accept that.
I pasted on a smile and said, “Good-bye, Cade.”
31
Cade
Max, wait!” I didn’t really know what I was saying until the words had already left my mouth. “What time do we fly out?”
She turned, and something I couldn’t decipher flickered in her eyes. I’d been trying so hard to remain ambivalent, to not let her presence get to me, but I just couldn’t.
The look of shock on her face was pretty spot-on for how I felt. The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted it. But for some reason when she asked, “We?” I didn’t back out.
I looked at her wide blue eyes and said, “If you still want me to go, I’m in. I made you a promise, and I’m going to follow through.” Even if it killed me.
She crossed her arms over her chest, and surveyed me. I kept my face passive and my body relaxed. I didn’t want her to think this was a ploy to get her back. It wasn’t. This charade had been really important to her, and if she thought she needed me to face her parents, I wasn’t going to let her down. I was afraid if I didn’t go, she’d keep right on pretending.
“You would do that for me?” she asked.
I was a little afraid to examine what I was willing to do for her.
I weighed my words carefully before saying, “We made a deal. I would do it for anyone.” I swear she winced, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling her the truth.
She swallowed and nodded. “Okay, then. Um, thanks. We fly out Sunday morning at eleven.”
“Okay. I’ll come early, and we’ll catch a cab to the airport.”
“Right, well, I’ll see you Sunday then.”
I watched her go for few minutes before returning to the rec center.
Bad idea didn’t even begin to describe what I’d just done.
Over the next few days, I kept finding myself being drawn back to that airline ticket. Sometimes I would just stare at the numbers—dates and times and flights—until they stopped making sense. Other times I would hold the ticket in my hands and concentrate, as if I might be able to feel her intentions behind it just by touching it.
Was it just a ticket? Or did it represent something more?