Because I need to get on a plane. Get out of this country.
Now that Dad’s back to work and pretty much recovered, I’m not needed as much as I was. Mama even told me the other night that I seemed restless and I should figure out what I really want to do.
I couldn’t admit it then, but I’m going to have to at some point, right?
I can’t stay here forever. And I can’t keep missing Dani Hill.
She made it clear she wasn’t ready for a relationship.
She wasn’t ready then. She might be now!
That familiar hope flutters inside of me, but… I haven’t heard from her in over two months. Not one text. I’ve even sent her the odd one, just to let her know I’m thinking about her, and she’s sent nothing back.
If she’s at the concert, then I really shouldn’t be.
I want her to enjoy it. I want her to have fun with her friends. I’ll no doubt put a damper on things.
I should stay here.
Maybe work an extra shift or two.
My boss has already approved my time off. I requested it in a moment of weakness. And now, in my moment of strength, I can tell him I don’t need it anymore.
I just have to keep my head down and focus on saving.
Then find the courage to tell my family that I need to get on a plane and see the world, because the longer I stay here… the more I feel myself shriveling up.
With a sigh, I pull the ticket off my mirror and drop it toward my trash can. It flutters through the air and ends up on the floor beside it.
Shaking my head, I finish getting ready, refusing to look back at that ticket. Refusing to acknowledge how much my choice hurts.
But I can’t go.
The whole getting-over-Dani thing won’t be done any faster by seeing her again. It’ll be like throwing myself into a fire and expecting not to get burned.
I have to stay in Dallas next weekend.
That’s the only thing I can handle right now.
CHAPTER 50
DANI
I dropped the groceries home to Mom and spent the evening with Elsa. We watchedThe Little Mermaidand sang along to all the songs. It was fun. We giggled, and I held her tight throughout the scary bit at the end.
As the final credits were rolling, she was turning into a limp teddy bear in my arms, and I carried her downstairs so her parents could coax her through her nighttime routine.
“Night, Aunty Dee.”
“Good night, Elly. Love you.” I kissed her and headed up to my room.
I had grand plans of reading my book, then drifting into a peaceful sleep.
It didn’t come.
I tossed and turned most of the night, then was jolted awake by a nightmare around 4 a.m.—it was a mean one, filled with a thumping drumbeat, cackling faces, and dead eyes staring up at the ceiling and not blinking.
Clutching the covers to my chest, I lay in the darkness, panting and sweating and too afraid to close my eyes again. I lay there until the sun came up, torturing myself with memories of that night.
