She thought her little towel rack incident last night—and Jamie taking care of her—meant they’d made some sort of progress, or at least were in a good enough place that they could make the last leg of the journey without enduring eight hours of silence. But now he wanted to just get rid of her.
“Look, Brynn…” He closed the door behind them and sat on the chair across from the beds. “I don’t know what the car situation is. I’m crossing my fingers I’ll be out of here by noon, but that means not making it to L.A. before eight tonight. I don’t have time to explain, but I have some things I need to do when I get there, and I know you have…things…to do as well. The other option is both of us possibly not making it until tomorrow, which means you’d miss the launch altogether, and we both know that can’t happen. This is the only way to make sure you get where you need to go—where I promised to take you.” He let out a long breath. “It’s going to be a rushed good-bye either way, and I just thought this would be easier.”
Brynn threw her hands in the air. She wasn’t sure if it was tears clouding her vision or just outright fury. “For you,” she said. “This will be easier for you, Jamie. But you didn’t think to ask what I want. You didn’t think to ask if I wanted to play along with your whole Brynn needs to make her choice scenario, either. You just decided for me because it’s what you want or need or whatever. You need proof about how I feel, right? Well, guess what, James? All you’ve been proving to me is that you’re just as good at pushing me away now as you were a decade ago.”
He stood and took a step toward her, but she shook her head, and he stopped.
“Don’t. Just don’t. You win, okay? Where’s the bus?”
He sighed, shoulders sagging.
“Across the street. It leaves in twenty minutes.”
She turned to where her suitcase sat on her bed, packed but not yet zipped. She slammed it closed, struggling to get the zipper around the diameter of the stuffed bag, but she didn’t want his help, and she certainly didn’t want another eight hours in a vehicle with him now.
“You’re unbelievable,” she said, her back still to him as she forced the zipper the rest of the way. “So worried about your own damn heart you don’t think about what you’re doing to others.” She turned to face him. “And just so we’re clear, by others I mean me. My heart, Jamie.” She touched her fingers lightly to the square of gauze on her forehead, but she knew the searing pain behind her eyes would have been there whether she’d bumped her head or not.
“Are you okay?” he asked, and his tone told her he knew it was a loaded question.
“If you’re asking if my symptoms have worsened, no. They haven’t. But thanks for taking that into consideration before shipping me off to Los Angeles.”
His hand raked through his hair, and she could see he was in agony. Though she felt justified in her reaction now, she still felt the poison with each word she spat at him, hating herself a little as she did. He was obviously stressed about the car situation, but that didn’t give him the right to make this kind of decision for her.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I didn’t want you to be stuck here. I didn’t want to be the one who stood in your way again.”
Ooooh. That’s right. She had shown Jamie her angry side before—her drunk, angry side when he barged in on her and Spencer at the reunion. That wasn’t Brynn, though. This wasn’t Brynn. It was a new version she didn’t like, one that Jamie somehow brought out in her.
She let out a breath and with it a bit of the anger. They could do this all day, but apparently there wasn’t enough time.
“I have a bus to catch,” she said softly.
“Can I at least walk you over there?”
As spent as she was, Brynn didn’t want to say good-bye just yet. Not like this.
“Okay,” she said, and without another word, Jamie hoisted her suitcase from the bed and carried it to the door.
After stopping in the office for the ticket, they were across the street with minutes to spare, and Brynn didn’t want to leave angry.
“You were going to get coffee?” she asked, and Jamie shoved his hands in his front pockets and nodded.
“Figured it was warm enough for that frozen chocolate chip drink you love.”
Come on. He was killing her now.
“You were going to get me a chocolate chip frappe?”
“Kinda glad now that I didn’t have to say chocolate chip frappe.”
“Jamie.”
“Brynn.”
He smiled, and her anger softened to a dull ache that tugged at her heart a little too much.
“Phil said the next pickup is right next to a gas station.” He reached for his wallet, but she grabbed his arm.
“I’ve got money, Jamie. I already owe you for the glasses, the ticket. I think I can manage some snacks at a gas station.”
The bus pulled up, and Jamie let his wallet fall back into his pocket.
“You don’t owe me anything, B.”