“Spend the night,” I whispered, and he did.
CHAPTER 8
Brinden
“Are you moping?” Jillian teased me, her high-pitched voice buzzing over the phone line.
“No!” I grumbled.
She barked a laugh. “Oh, yes you are, you mopey-moper! Just admit it, Brinny. You’re in looove! One weekend away and suddenly you’re falling apart? I know the signs, babe, and you havetotallybeen bitten by the love bug.”
“Oh, shut up.” The problem was? She wasn’t wrong.
Oliver had to go out of town for the weekend and I had to admit, not waking up to his handsome face was kind of depressing. My bed felt so cold and empty without him, so…wrong.
“I just miss him, okay?” I groaned into the phone, then rubbed at my face. “God, I’m becoming one of those clingy boyfriends, aren’t I?” I couldn’t help it. Ollie was… He was everything. How could someone go from being a complete nobody toeverythingin such a short amount of time?
“Yep,” she said, matter-of-fact, and I could’ve smacked her. She giggled. “But that’s okay. I’m sure he misses you too.”
I smiled. He did. We’d talked on the phone every night he’d been gone, and hearing his voice had lulled me to sleep. I only wished he was here with me now, especially seeing as we were supposed to get some crappy weather.
Tugging the curtains back, I peeked out the window. The sky was gray and grim and tinged with yellow, the lights of the city casting an eerie glow. I shivered and pulled the phone away from my ear long enough to see if I had any missed texts.
Nope.
“I just hope he’s safe,” I murmured, more to myself than to Jillian.
“He’s fine, worry-wart.”
Yeah, but… What if he wasn’t? I remembered back to the first day we’d met. He’d come stumbling into the daycare, pale and shaken up from the slippery drive. He’d looked scared out of his mind and even then, I’d wanted to throw my arms around him and hug him.
I bit my lip and gazed out at the sky, which threatened to start spewing sleet at any given moment. I really hoped he wouldn’t try to drive home tonight if the weather got bad. I wanted to see him, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. I wanted him home in one piece.
“Hey, Jilly? I gotta go. I’m gonna call him, make sure everything’s okay.”
“You do you,” she chirped back. “Good luck!”
As soon as the call ended, I tapped Oliver’s name in my contact list and pushed the green button. It rang three times, then went to voicemail. “Sorry about that, but I can’t come to the phone right now. I’ll be sure to get back with you as soon as possible!”
Listening to his pre-recorded message only managed to make my anxiety worse. Frowning down at my phone screen, I texted him instead.
Hey, FYI there’s a big winter storm on its way to Destiny. Please be safe. Miss you.
I waited for a couple of minutes, but my cell stayed silent in my hand. I began chewing on my lip and when I’d stripped the chapped skin away and it felt raw and slick, I started chewing my fingernails instead.
“Okay, Brin, chill. Obviously he’s busy. He’ll text you when he gets a minute. He always texts back,” I reminded myself. “Take a deep breath and let’s make some soup or something.” Yeah, soup would be nice. I was pretty sure I had a few cans of homestyle chicken noodle, just for occasions like these.
I left my phone on the couch and went into the kitchen. I grabbed a can of Campbell’s, popped the tab and poured myself a bowl. I stuck it in the microwave for two minutes and paced a circle around my tiny table.
The vase that sat in the center still held a few of the roses that Oliver had given me two weeks ago. Though their petals were curling up and their leaves had turned brown, they still clung to life.
On the counter across from the fridge sat my new toaster—complete with bagel setting, because after my toaster burned Ollie’s bagels to a crisp, he was bound and determined to replace that old thing. He’d come toting in an Amazon box one day and said, “Here. Happy birthday,” with that big dumb grin I loved so much.
It hit me, all of a sudden. My stomach squeezed and my throat ran dry, and suddenly, chicken soup was the least of my concerns. Behind me, the microwave beeped to remind me that it had finished zapping my dinner, but I ignored it.
I loved him. I loved Oliver Dault and he didn’t even know it.
I stumbled out of the kitchen and threw the front door open wide. The wind caught it and yanked the knob right out of myhand. The door slammed against the wrought-iron railing of my front steps and I gasped.
