But I’ve pieced together my father’s story. He got away to Penn State, got his Masters in education and was thinking of law school himself, but he met my mom, and family duty called him back to Friesville. “My dad’s mother was sick and they didn’t want to leave her, because she didn’t have anyone else. And by the time she died, they had good careers here, teaching at the high school.”
“Yeah,” he mutters. “That’s the problem with this place. This place gets its hooks in you, and you’re stuck.”
My father had said something like that. It was one of the reasons he let me go to Boston, instead of keeping me close by. As much as he loved to helicopter over me, he also wanted me to do what he’d never had a chance to do.
“What you gotta do is not wait. Don’ think you got all the time in the world cause one day you wake up an’ you’re an old man, like me. Get out while the getting’s good, and don’t let nothin’ turn your head.”
I start to nod, but then I look over and spy Dax’s face in the rearview mirror. His mouth is a straight line.
When we get back to the house, I see that Dax is right—the boys left not a single strand of spaghetti for us, but what they did leave was all the dirty dishes. I start to clean them off while Dax gets his father settled in his bedroom. When he comes downstairs again, I crank off the faucet and say, “Do you want me to order you a pizza?”
I turn to see him staring hard at the ceiling, his hands behind his head, deep in thought.
“Are you okay?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “Don’t know. The whole thing with you . . . being here. Making dinner. It’s not that we don’t appreciate it, it’s just that . . .” He lets out a deep sigh. “I think we’re getting carried away.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What?”
He leans against the kitchen counter, besides all the dishes I just cleaned for his family. “You’re leaving in a few days. Right?”
I nod, not sure where this is going. “Yes, but I’m only a few hours away, and--“
“You’re a world away, Katie. You knew this had a time limit. When I said I didn’t want to sneak around, I meant that as adults we shouldn’t have to anymore. But you know who I am. You knew it going in. Don’t shit me by telling me you thought this meant something more than what I can give you.”
I suck in a breath. I’m not sure, because I’ve never been through this before. And yet I have. His eyes are dark, cold and aloof, the way they were when I told him I was going to Boston. But this time, it sounds awfully like he’s trying to say goodbye. “What is this? Kick me to the curb before I can do it to you again?”
“You were going to, weren’t you?”
“No, I—“ I stop. “I can come back every weekend. We can make this work.”
He scoffs. “When? While you’re going to law school? You’re fucking going to come back every weekend to hang out with your dumb mechanic boyfriend while you’re getting your law degree?”
“Yes. I mean, no,” I plead. “You’re not dumb. I never thought that. I . . . what about . . .”
What about the past few days? I sound pathetic. I know what sex is to Dax Harding, and in his book, it sure doesn’t spell forever.
I fight back tears stinging the corners of my eyes, do my best to keep my voice from cracking. “So, are you breaking up with me?”
His face is stone, his words are steel. Those green eyes leak no emotion. “We were never together.”
I blink, trying to pinpoint where everything suddenly went to shit. The past few hours flash through my mind—making dinner, him being happy to see me, the ride in his truck where he couldn’t keep his hands off me and told me I’m going to make you come again and again tonight— It’s not an hour later, and he’s a different person. Rigid, posture tight. He’s not the Dax I was falling for again. He’s that one that I left, all those years ago.
“So this was only about sex?” I ask.
He nods. “I’ll drive you home.”
“No,” I manage, doing my best to keep my body from trembling. “Don’t bother.”
He stands there for a minute, considering it. Then he pushes open the screen door and stalks out into the dark backyard.
I calmly put down the dishtowel and gather my things. I pause on the front stoop, my finger hovering over my mother’s name in my cell phone. I’m an adult. I’m not supposed to want to call her for every little tragedy.
But damn, how I want to. Closing my eyes, I think of what I’d said to her. He treats me so good.
Pocketing my phone, I head down the driveway in a daze. I don’t stop when I reach the end of it. I just keep walking. I need to put as much distance between Dax and me as possible. Even Boston seems too close.
And miracle of all miracles, somehow I manage to make it all the way home before I burst into tears.
Chapter 11