Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Morgan was already shaking her head before I even got the words out, her eyes wide. “Are you kidding me? You don’t need a cab.” And then, to my absolute horror, she looked at her brother. “Tyler can take you.”
His eyes flashed to mine, his hand frozen where he’d been dunking the tea bag in his fresh cup of hot water.
“It’s really okay, Morgan,” I said hurriedly, grabbing her wrists so she’d look at me again. “That would be time out of his day, whereas I can just take a cab and it’ll only affect me.”
“Yeah, it’ll affect you by being boring and creepy and unnecessary. I’m not taking no for an answer on this. Okay? If you’re leaving, that’s fine, but Tyler is taking you to the airport.”
“I don’t mind taking you.”
I closed my eyes at the sound of his voice, chest squeezing with the predicament I’d landed myself in. How was it that even when I was trying to flee from the bastard, I somehow got stuck with him?
“Okay,” I whispered, not wanting to make a scene when I opened my eyes again, and Morgan smiled immediately. “If that will make you happy.”
“It will,” she assured me. Then, she wrapped me in a fierce hug, and the Wagners were next, followed by Azra and Oliver’s family and a blur of other people who I barely registered as I tried to resign myself to the fact that I was about to be in the car with Tyler when I was trying with everything I had left in me to let him go.
Aunt Laura was last, and she hugged me tight, her eyes wetting with tears. “I miss you already. Please don’t wait another seven years to come back, okay?”
“I won’t,” I said, and I wondered if that was the new me — the one who could lie so casually it sounded true. Because if I knew one thing, it was that I couldn’t handle being in New England.
And this time, I wouldn’t break my vow to never come back.
“Come visit for Thanksgiving, though?” I said when she pulled back, and I saw a little flicker of realization in her eyes when she nodded.
She already knew.
“You’re going to be okay,” she whispered, squeezing my arm. “Everything is going to be okay.”
My eyes welled, and I nodded, turning away from her to grab my bags before I could cry. Tyler was at my side in an instant, grabbing the heaviest one on wheels and steering it toward the door as I said my final goodbyes over my shoulder. If Azra stood to hug or kiss him goodbye, I didn’t see it, and I was thankful.
We loaded my bags into Tyler’s truck without a word, and when each of our doors shut and we were alone inside it, the silence was deafening.
Tyler sat there for a long moment, his hand wrapped around the keys and gaze locked on the steering wheel. Then, he fired the engine to life and pulled out of the driveway, heading north toward Provincetown.
It was a short, ten-minute drive to the airport, but it might as well have been an entire lifetime for how each second stretched on between us.
Tyler didn’t move to turn on the radio, and neither did I. It was just the low hum of tires on the road, the soft whiz of other cars passing by, the distant, faint whisper of the waves touching the sand. I stared out the passenger side window with my hands clasped so tightly in my lap that they were damp and aching.
Every second that passed without Tyler saying something made the pain inside my chest reverberate more. I wanted him to acknowledge what I’d said last night. I wanted him to tell me what he was thinking. I wanted him to say anything at all.
But he was silent.
When we arrived at the airport, he pulled into one of the empty spots in the small lot, putting the car in park. Neither of us moved once he had — not me for my purse on the floorboard by my feet, not him for the door handle. We just sat there in the heavy silence until my eyes blurred with fresh tears that I couldn’t believe I was still able to produce after the week I’d had.
The more my chest burned, the more that emotion strangled me, the more I thought of my conversation with Aunt Laura. I heard her words echoing in the chamber of my mind, and my palms dampened more at the thought of acting on them.
You have a choice, whether it is an easy one or not.
A shaky inhale found my lips, and I shook my head, closing my eyes and letting the first wave of tears flow freely down my hot cheeks.
This was it.
This was my last chance to say what I needed to say, to ask for what I really wanted, to face the truth — and accept the consequences that come with it. I couldn’t predict what he would do or say, and I couldn’t hold back what I needed out of fear alone.