“Yeah,” I said quietly. “With Teddy.”
He didn’t say anything right away, which I appreciated. For a while the only sound was the hum of tires against asphalt and rain against steel and glass.
“Guess I don’t have to ask what you’re thinking about,” he said eventually.
“No,” I murmured. “You probably don’t.”
Rhett looked like he wanted to say something else but didn’t. The restraint in his patience felt worse than anything he could’ve said out loud. It was as if I knew exactly what he would’ve said, and he knew that it wouldn’t change anything.
I drew a circle in the fog on the window and watched it vanish almost instantly.
We passed the same field of wildflowers where Teddy and I once got a flat tire after sneaking out to see a meteor shower.He’d spent an hour trying to fix it before realizing we didn’t have a spare. We laid on the hood and watched the sky instead, Teddy’s curfew came and went.
Being together made it easier to forget about the rules.
We merged onto the next section of our drive. The two-lane highway widened to four, the landscape flattening into gravel and road stands and rinky-dink diners and fast food restaurants. Each green mile marker felt like a countdown.
Rhett’s wipers struggled against the onslaught, smearing water across the windshield as he quietly hummed off-key to a country song. The last vestige of Bluebell Cove disappeared in the rearview mirror—its lighthouse, its one stoplight, its familiar quiet—all swallowed by the rolling stretch of highway.
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass and told myself that this was only the end if I allowed it to be. The Cove wasn’t going anywhere, and neither were the people who made it special. I just had to get over Teddy, or be a grown woman with three years of therapy under her belt and endure the future awkwardness.
I’d made a promise to a certain five-year-old that I couldn’t break.
Rhett sent me a sidelong glance. “You still doing okay?”
“Peachy,” I lied.
The hum of the tires was hypnotic, nearly lulling me into a midmorning nap, until a flash of yellow caught the corner of my eye.
A Jeep.
My heart fluttered.
It pulled alongside us, tires kicking up water from the shoulder. Same dented fender, same handmade wooden dice hanging from the mirror.Teddy’sJeep.
“What the—” Rhett swore under his breath as the Jeep honked twice, then sped up to cut in front of us. “Isthat—”
“Yes!” I bolted upright. “Pull over!”
We jerked onto the shoulder. Teddy fishtailed slightly before stopping a few yards ahead, hazard lights blinking. He jumped out into the rain—hair damp, flannel clinging to his shoulders, absolutely furious.
Shoving my door open, I landed straight into a puddle and began shouting. “You can’t just—”
“Oh, I can,” he called over the rain. “Because apparently you thought sneaking off without saying goodbye was fine?”
I met him halfway between the cars, traffic roaring beside us. The downpour swallowed our voices—rain hammering against the hoods, the hiss of tires slicing puddles, the world reduced to water and breath and the pulse rushing in my ears.
“What exactly did you expect?” I yelled over the noise.
“A note? A conversation? I don’t know, Margot, but I had to hear the news fromDot, of all people!”
I blinked. “You drove an hour and a half to yell at me about this?”
He ran a hand through his hair, frustration flickering across his face as the anger melted away. “You think that’s what this is?”
“What else could it be?”
He took another step toward me, close enough that I could see the raindrop fall from his hair and trail down his cheek. “You want the truth? The real one?”
