“Why?”
“Because I missed them.”
“Youleft.”
“I know, and I told them why,” I say.
She laughs dryly. Wrong thing to say, I guess. Her dry laugh gets louder, turning into a terrifyingreallaugh. “They know butIhave never gotten an explanation?”
I shake my head and take a step forward. “No, you deserve an explanation—I know. That’s why I’m here?—”
Lana sizes me up though, ready for a fight. “I don’t see you or hear from you infour years,but you come storming into town in that ridiculously fancy suit, looking likethat?—”
I smirk, even though I know I shouldn’t. “Like what?”
“Like that—Shut up!”
The smirk drops instantly. “Lana…Baby, please.”
“No,” she snaps, her nostrils flare and her face is red with rage. “Don’t you dare call me that.”
I sigh and stuff my hands in my pockets. Lana stares up at me and I can tell she wants to scream at me, maybe hit me. Even if she did, it wouldn’t be enough—at least not for me.
I want her to be angry, I deserve it. But I think I deserve much worse after everything I’ve put her through. For all the different ways I’ve hurt her.
Lana swallows and her tense posture smooths out when her shoulders drop. “I’m going home,” she says, and walks around me, down the block.
I follow after her. “Lana, you’re not walking home alone at this time.”
She scoffs and her pace picks up. “This town is harmless.”
“I’m not letting you walk home.”
She walks even quicker, her arms wrapped around herself. “You don’t even know where I live, and if you follow me I’ll call the police.”
“Lana, let me drive you. Please.”
“No.”
“I’ll only follow you to make sure you get there safely.”
“Wow, my lifelong dream was to have a stalker,” she deadpans, still walking.
“Lana—”
She stops suddenly and turns around, and I nearly trample her. “What are you doing?”
I shift on my feet, looking down at them and the leather shoes. My hands curl into fists in my pockets. “I’m trying.”
“Why?”
“Because…” I still love her. And maybe it’s impossible and unreasonable after four years, but not for me. She’s still as fiery as she was then. She is still her.
“I’m gonna go,” Lana says softly. Soft enough that it hurts more than the yelling.
I follow her down the block until we approach my car. She doesn’t know it’s mine and I have a feeling she’ll make fun of it too once she does. I let her walk ahead while I get in my car.
I drive along side her, as slow as her walking pace, and lower the passenger side window. “Lana, get in.”
