Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82893 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“You’re the best.” Her smile is kind. “We’re going to miss you around here.”
“I’m going to miss you guys too.” I start to turn toward the door but stop. “Can you tell me if the guy in Room 17 checked out?”
“Umm…” She takes her eyes off me and looks at the computer before she begins to type. “It looks like his key was returned early this morning.”
Darn. Logically, I know Roman didn’t owe me anything, not even a goodbye. But still, it stings that he told me I’d see him before I left and lied.
“Did you need something from him?” she asks, and I take a step back toward the door.
“No.” I wipe my palms down the front of my jean shorts. “Will you tell Ernest that I said goodbye and that I’ll call?”
Her face softens. “Of course.”
“Thanks, Casey.”
“You’re welcome and safe travels, Elora.”
“Bye,” I say softly before pushing out the door. With my insides twisting into a knot of nervousness, I walk to the parking lot. I try not to scan for Roman’s car, but I still do. It’s nowhere in sight, confirming once more that he’s really gone.
Opening my door, I get in behind the wheel and plug in my phone. My van might be old, but the person who owned it before me upgraded the stereo system and added GPS. The only luxury, given the state of the interior—ripped seats and missing carpet.
Pulling up Roman’s number, I press the Message option and type quickly.
Me: You’re a jerk. I can’t believe you left without even saying goodbye.
I stare at the message with my finger hovering over the Send button. Part of me wants him to know I’m disappointed that he didn’t say goodbye, especially after last night. But another part of me doesn’t want him to know I care at all.
As I’m about to delete the text, a knock startles me, making me jump. The moment I turn my head toward the passenger door, my eyes lock with ones that look more seafoam-green than blue under the brim of a baseball cap. With my heart in my stomach, I watch Roman open the door and toss a black backpack on the floorboard, then go to the back door, open it up, and deposit a suitcase on top of the mattress where mine still are before forcing the door closed once more.
“After we get your oil changed, I’ll take over driving,” he mutters, sliding into the seat next to mine a moment later.
I shake my head. “What?”
“I’ll take over driving,” he repeats, distracted as he pulls his cell out of his pocket. After glancing at the screen, his eyes come back to mine and soften.
“I didn’t leave without saying goodbye. I had to deal with the tow company that’s taking my car back to New York for me.”
“Tow company?” I shake my head, completely confused except for the realization my finger must’ve pressed the Send button on the message I typed to him after he startled me.
“I met them this morning so they could put my car on a truck. It took longer than I expected since I had to drive to meet them about twenty minutes away and wait for a car to drive me back over here.”
What the heck is happening?
“Why would they take your car? Don’t you need it?”
“No, I’m going with you.”
“You’re going with me?” My brows drag together. “Aren’t you going home?”
“I will when you’re done with what you’re doing.”
“What?”
“I don’t want you traveling across the country alone.”
“I can take care of myself, Roman. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I didn’t say you can’t take care of yourself. I said I don’t want you traveling alone.”
“What about your friends, your family? Don’t you think they miss you, that they’re worried and want you home?”
“Don’t you think yours do?”
“No. But our situations are different. All I really had was my mom and my ex. Now, I don’t have either of those things.”
“And I don’t have anything waiting for me back in New York.” He glances at the dash. “We need to hit the road if you still want to get the oil changed and find a campground tonight.”
“Roman,” I whisper, feeling caught off guard by this whole situation.
“Do you want me to drive?”
“No.”
“Then let’s go.”
Staring at him, I swallow over the lump in my throat. Five minutes ago, I didn’t think I’d ever see him again, and now he’s sitting next to me, telling me he’s going with me.
Our attachment to each other is probably unhealthy for a multitude of reasons. But all I can think of is that once more, his ship found mine in the ocean, and I don’t feel so stranded anymore.
Without a word, I turn in my seat, put the keys in the ignition, start the engine, and back out of my parking spot.