She nods, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.
“Can you wait five minutes?”
She sighs.
I can’t stop cataloging every move she makes. Like it gives me some insight into what she’s doing. What she’s thinking. When she’s going to let me come close enough to kiss her again. Leave a bite mark again.
“For what?”
“I’m heading in too. Can I catch a ride?”
It’s a moment when she could say no. There’s zero reason I couldn’t drive myself. Truthfully, I’d rather be the one behind the wheel, but I also just want to be near her. And if sitting in her shitty little truck while she gives me the cold shoulder is what I can get, then so be it.
I can also tell by the way she’s peeking at me that she’s curious about why I’m heading into the city. And the feeling is mutual.
Maybe if she’s stuck in a vehicle with me, it will force her to talk.
If nothing else, it will force her to listen.
41
Bailey
Summer: Have fun today! Send pics of the places you look at. And tell me which neighborhoods. I want to know literally everything.
Bailey: Okay. Thanks.
Summer: You alright?
Bailey: Yeah. I just wasn’t expecting you to text me.
Summer: Why not?
Bailey: Beau is the only person who texts me.
Summer: Well, now it’s Beau AND me.
Bailey: Thought you might be annoyed about me moving.
Summer: Why would I be annoyed at that?
Bailey: Uh, because I just started working for you?
Summer: I know a thing or two about going after what you want. I love to see it. Make that world your oyster, girl.
Beau pulls himself into the passenger seat and the air in my truck instantly gets harder to swallow.
He looks delicious. A plaid shirt, a mixture of greens and creams, with a khaki tee beneath. I can see the silver chain of his dog tags disappearing beneath his layers. Jeans. The leather boots I helped him pick out.
It’s cool this morning, and the nip of fall creeps across the flat fields around us. It gets hot midday, and then the temperature plummets in the evening.
I love this time of year.
Shifting into drive, I pull away from the house, trying to keep my eyes on the road rather than on him.
I miss him.
For three days, I’ve missed him. For three days, I’ve forced myself not to walk back into his house.
And not because I’m trying to punish him. I realized that on day two. This isn’t even about him.
It’s about me. It’s about my fear outweighing my desire. It’s about taking my own first steps to start fresh. Being able to know I did it on my own, without anyone holding me back, and without anyone giving me a leg up. I’ve been a victim of my circumstances for too damn long.
First, I got mad at how unfair my life was.
Now I’m getting even.
“What are you doing?” he asks after we’ve left the limits of Chestnut Springs.
“Driving.” My hands twist on the wheel.
“No shit. In the city, Bailey. What are you doing?”
My tongue darts out over my lips as I consider what I want to tell him. He’s so … overbearing, overwhelming, overprotective, and I don’t want him barging in on this day for me. He made it very clear the other morning that I need to leave town. That he wants me to leave town.
And him? He’s got a family. A home. Any job he wants—that he can casually pick up at the fucking gas station.
No, doing any of these next steps with him in tow would hurt too damn much.
“You can’t come with me.”
“That’s fine.” He settles back in his seat, thick biceps straining against plaid as he crosses his arms. “I have something I need to do anyway.”
Curiosity tugs at me. “What are you doing?”
I peek at him, and he grins. My stomach does this nauseating little flip. God. He’s so beautiful.
“Asked you first, sugar.”
My eyes roll. How a dumb joke about calling me sugar tits has turned into a term of endearment is beyond me. And yet, it makes me smile.
“Going in to check out the campus. I finally activated my enrollment to start in January.”
The grin he hits me with is downright blinding. I blink away, like he’s too bright to look at directly. It hurts.
“Gonna check out a few rental places too,” I mumble. Talking about these things with him feels awkward in the wake of everything that’s happened between us. Fake, to real, to a little too real.
I guess I’m just inexperienced enough to not know where I stand with him, or how to even broach the subject, even though I know I have to.
All I know is he lied. My feelings got hurt. He brings me breakfast every morning and gives me every bit of space I asked for—possibly too much space. And he told me I should leave town.
But then he smiles at me like he loves me.
And I go right back to being confused.
“Good for you.”
I scoff. Good for me. It’s like a pat on the head, and that’s not what I want from him. I want him to toss me over his shoulder and drag me back to his house.
But I don’t want to be in Chestnut Springs.
I am so fucking lost.
“What are you going in for?”
“Work,” he replies simply. All that does is make me think he’s doing something with the bar, which reminds me he’s been lying to me out of some misplaced sense of duty.
Heroic motherfucker.
We fall into silence once more as the fields whip by and the skyscrapers over the city come into view.
“Where am I taking you?”
He shifts in his seat, grabbing the overhead handle and looking out the window. “I’ll direct you.”
Cryptic motherfucker.
We head straight into the city.
“Left here.”
I turn.
“Right up ahead.”
Again, I turn, following the road into a cozy, tree-lined neighborhood. Older houses. Some infills. A one-level brick school with a brightly colored playground out front.
I was expecting something different when he said “work”. I have no idea what we’re doing here. At least it isn’t far from campus.
“One more block up.”
My brows furrow as I watch a stream of children make their way down the sidewalk, too-big backpacks slung over their shoulders.
“Just here. On the left.”
I stop on the opposite side of the road and look across at another brick building.
A fire hall.
“What’s this?”
“Kinda figured the big red truck out front might be a dead giveaway,” he replies on a chuckle.
I hear him unbuckling his seatbelt, but I can’t seem to peel my eyes away from the building.
“Right. But why?”
“Job interview.” He tugs the handle and opens the door to exit the small cab.
As he gets out, I ask the same question again, not quite comprehending what’s going on. “But why?”
Beau turns, and his eyes sweep over my face, like he’s trying to memorize my every feature. Then he shrugs, a nonchalant motion in contrast to the intensity of his gaze. “Told you I love you, Bailey. And I meant it.” He gives me a wink and hits the truck roof twice, like I’m a fucking cab driver or something. “Make sure whatever house you pick has room for us to host family dinners. You know the Eaton clan will visit more than we want them to.”
Us. We.
I sit here slack jawed, at a loss for words. Is he getting a job in the city just so he can be with me?
But I don’t get a chance to ask because he strides off, calling back over his shoulder, “Text me when you’re headed back. I’ll keep myself busy until you’re done.”
Then he’s across the street. Going for a job interview.
And me? I’m an emotional puddle.
I wander the campus in a daze.
I drink a coffee that tastes bland and watery. The ones Beau makes me are better.
I walk, checking for any cafes or restaurants that might be hiring. I drop off a resume at two that I like the looks of. Both times I’m met with smiles and enthusiasm. People who seemed excited by the prospect of hiring me.