But her family will only see her ambition and long hours, and decide she ran me off.
She didn’t. She was happy enough, even though she was never actuallyhappy. We broke up becauseIwanted more and she didn’t have anything left to give. Not because she’s a workaholic, but because I didn’t know how to exist around that. Andthat’son me.
“I’ll make it clear,” I say quietly.
“I thought about telling them every time I called home, you know. But the words never came out.”
“Yeah.” I try to grab at any lifeline I can offer her here. “The holidays are probably as good a time as any to break it to them. With all your aunts visiting.”
Rory’s aunts are alot.
She doesn’t respond, and we drive in silence after that. The city gives way to the highway, then the highway gives way to county roads with frozen marsh on one side and steep, blasted rocks on the other.
The minutes tick by.
The playlist I was listening to when she got in—quiet ’70s rock—finally ends.
I clear my throat. “You want to pick something?”
She blinks at me, clearly lost in thought.
“You don’t have to,” I say. “Just figured it’s fair to take turns.”
“So I can put on a holiday playlist?”
“I don’t hate Christmas music.”
“Sure,” she says sarcastically. “You only grumble every time it comes on and roll your eyes at all the overplayed stuff.”
“No grumbling today. No eye rolling, either.”
“I literally have a playlist calledOverplayed Christmas Music. You’re saying I can put that on?”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek. “Yeah, go for it.”
“I’m just kidding, by the way. That’s not what the list is called.” She reaches for the display screen to switch from my phone to her phone—something she’s done dozens of times before.
Except her phone isn’t in the saved devices list, because I deleted it.
“Sorry,” I say gruffly as her fingers pause just above the screen.
She takes a deep breath. “Do you mind if I pair again?”
I gesture for her to go ahead.
She taps the buttons, and then—fuck me—my truck recognizes her phone again, because she’s still in my phonebook.
Neither of us say anything as the display flashes a message.My Favourite Person’s Phone is now connected.
My heart hammers in my chest.
Quietly, she clears her throat, then ducks her head and starts scrolling for something for us to listen to.
The first song is definitely overplayed. Definitely something I would roll my eyes at. But as it starts playing, as I can feel her staring at the display, I know I’ll remember this moment every time I hear it in the future. Rory tightening up, her pretty face going blank, like she needs a mask to get through just being in my truck again.
I’ll remember the hurt I’ve caused her, and the stupid unspoken rules that seem to be developing between us.
Only once a month—if I’m lucky.
