“What is it?”
“Don’t make any rash decisions just yet. Don’t sell your house. I’m not saying you need to come back right away but give yourself some time.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“My life is in San Diego,” she said. “Not that it matters, but I guess you will know where to find me if you ever want to talk.”
“Evie, this doesn’t have to end between us,” I blurted out.
“I live there. My father is there. My job is there. That’s where I need to be. I understand you don’t want to be there. I won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“I’ll make this work,” I told her. “I don’t want this to be over. I want you to be a part of my life.”
She offered a small smile. “You know where to find me.”
“I do.”
I wasn’t sure how I would make it work. I had heard all the stories about long-distance relationships and the fact they rarely worked. I couldn’t imagine it working with the newness of our relationship. We didn’t even technically have a relationship. At least not one we had discussed or figured out. It all felt very fluid, like we were just going with the flow.
She checked the time. “I should probably get back to my hotel. I want to shower before I go to the airport.”
“I’ll take you,” I told her.
“To the airport?”
“Your hotel,” I answered.
“Thanks.”
She walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind her, a clear signal she didn’t want me in there.
I’d fucked up a good thing. I knew it but I couldn’t change it. Well, I could change it but that would mean going back home and facing memories I didn’t want to deal with. Not yet.
I drove her to her hotel, and instead of leaving her at the front, I followed her up to her room.
“Can I wait?” I asked when she grabbed a change of clothes to head into the bathroom.
She offered a smile. “Yes, of course.”
I found myself pacing the room. This was a pivotal moment in my life. I could feel it, and while I was pulled toward the option of going back to California, my mind was made up. I couldn’t go back. I knew what waited for me there and I didn’t want to deal with it.
“Feel better?” I asked when she came out of the bathroom looking fresh and clean and perfectly delectable. I couldn’t touch her. Once I got started, I wouldn’t be able to stop, and she would miss her flight.
“Much better,” she said with a sigh. We were both trying too hard. It was stilted and awkward and I didn’t know how to fix it.
She grabbed her suitcase and began to pack.
“Do you have events this weekend?” I asked her. I was trying to make small talk. I was trying to hold on to a connection to her. I could practically see the tenuous connection between us fraying with every passing second.
“I’m not sure. I cleared my schedule, but I might check in on things.”
“Will you call me when you get home?”
She glanced at me over her shoulder. “Will you answer?”
I deserved that. “Yes.”
She sighed, dropping the shirt she had been folding into the suitcase and turning to face me. “I am not going to ask you to come home, but I have to ask one more time. Are you sure this is what you want to do?”
“It is. I can’t go back there.”
She gave a brief nod. “Okay.”
She turned back around and finished packing. I watched as she did the usual sweep of the room to make sure she didn’t forget anything. I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I should leave. I should go back to the hotel and let her go.
“Are you flying out of Portland?” I asked, stalling for time. I already knew the answer.
“Yes, and I should probably get a move on.”
I stared at her, drinking in the sight of her, committing every detail to memory. I had a sinking feeling it could be the last time I saw her. I walked to her and pulled her into my arms. I held her for several minutes. Neither of us spoke. There was so much to say and yet nothing to say.
“Call me,” I said when I finally released her.
“I will.”
I grabbed her suitcase while she grabbed her purse and laptop case. I walked her to her car and waved as she pulled away. I stood staring at the back of the car until I couldn’t see it anymore. She was gone. Just like that, I was all alone again.
With a heavy sigh and a heavier heart, I walked back to my car and drove back to the hotel I was calling home. I had no idea what I was going to do. I felt adrift. I was lost at sea with no idea where land was. I didn’t know where I was going to land next or where I wanted to be. Living in town with my father was not an option. The place was too small, and we would end up running into each other.
Oddly enough, I ran away from home to get away from the memory of Kade but I didn’t want to leave Oregon because it was where he was. Once I left, it was over. He was well and truly gone. In that moment, I felt completely alone. I went back to my hotel room and looked around at the dishes still sitting on the table. I could smell her in the room.
Maybe I would change rooms. I didn’t have any more room in my head for memories and regrets. I wasn’t sure I could deal with constant reminders of someone else I’d lost.
Chapter 54
Evie
The plane jerked as the wheels hit the runway, signaling I was back home after a minor delay in Portland. I was anxious to get home and to the safety of my apartment. I needed my safe place. I wanted to be wrapped up in the things that made me feel safe and comfortable. It was hard to leave him behind. He said he wanted to make it work, but that was impossible.
My life was in California. My work kept me busy. It wouldn’t make a lot of sense to fly back and forth to Portland or wherever he ended up going. I’d fought for him. I’d tried. Xander had some things to work through and there was nothing more I could do to help him do that.
I texted Nelle to let her know the plane landed. She was already waiting for me.
“Hi,” she greeted me when I made my way to the baggage collection area.
“Hi.”
“You don’t look happy.”
“It’s a long story.”
“I took the night off. We’ll go back to your place and you can tell me everything over a glass or five of wine.”
“Yes, please,” I groaned.
Thirty minutes later, we were sitting on my couch, shoes off, candles burning, and full wine glasses in hand. “Tell me what happened.”
I said a phrase that was becoming a little too familiar. “He’s gone.”
“Will you please stop saying that?” she snapped. “I know he isn’t dead, but the way you say it makes it sound like he is.”
“He’s not coming back,” I clarified.
She shook her head, clearly not getting it. “What do you mean?”
“He is selling his house. He isn’t coming back to California.”
“What?!” she shrieked. “Why? Where is he going? What did you do to the man?”
“I didn’t do anything,” I retorted. “Apparently when he fled here like a thief in the night over the weekend, that was his plan. He has no intention of coming back.”