So I smile as I prove her right. “It’s a cliché for a reason, kid.”
“That might not be as profound as you think it is, Doc Gruff.” Her tone is light and teasing. Her hand squeezes mine. Outside the truck, the bay slides past, the sky clear and blue and radiant. I take a mental snapshot of the moment, determined never to forget how perfect she is for me.
“Hold on, now. Let me work my way to my point before you judge.” I drop her a quick wink before continuing. “This tour? You’ve worked so hard for it. Sacrificed so much. And when all seemed lost, instead of curling up in bed and crying about how unfair life is, you doubled down. You tried to learn how to rehab your ankle yourself! Who does that?”
“If I recall, you were pretty sure that was the action of a reckless idiot when you first heard about it.”
I grimace. “Maybe you were right about my bedside manner.”
Lucy widens her eyes at that. “Wow. Look at you. Admitting someone else was rightandthat you were wrong in one breath. Maybe me leaving is affecting you more than we realize.”
We laugh together then fall into an easy silence as the world zooms by outside the truck.
“Nash?” Lucy asks after a few minutes.
“Yeah?”
“What if the thing I regret not doing is staying?” Her voice is low, her eyes locked on mine, so many questions dancing through them that all I want to do is draw her into my arms and tell her everything is going to be okay.
“Ah, see, look at you, bringing me right back to my point,” I say, giving her hand a squeeze. “This job? It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If you don’t do this now, you might never have another chance. Hence, regret. But me?” I scoff. “I’ll still be here when the tour is over.”
A slow smile warms Lucy’s face. “That better be true.”
“Careful what you wish for, babe. I told you; I don’t do casual. Once you’re inner circle, you have to work hard to lose the privilege.”
Silence stretches again. Lucy turns her face toward the window, watching the trees roll by. There’s a kind of reverence to her stillness. Like she’s soaking up the last of this place before she trades it for stadium lights and dress rehearsals.
I grip the steering wheel tighter. “Youaredoing the right thing, Lucy. And I’m proud of you for doing it.”
Even though it means loneliness will seep back into my life while she’s gone.
The airport creeps closer. We pass the Welcome to Jacksonville sign, and I take the exit, following the looptoward departures. It’s early enough that the terminal’s still half asleep, thank God. Fewer people. Less chaos.
I park at the curb and flick the hazard lights on.
Lucy doesn’t move right away. She just sits there, staring out the passenger window for a few minutes before finally taking a deep breath and turning to me, her blue eyes filled with a strange blend of excitement and sadness.
“I guess this is it, then.”
I nod, cupping her cheek. “You’re gonna do great.”
“I’m gonna miss you.”
“Oh, you better believe I’ll miss you too, but you’re gonna have so much fun and make so many memories and you can call me every day to share them with me.” I unclick my seatbelt to press a kiss to her forehead, breathing in the sweet scent of her shampoo.
She sighs deeply, then meets my eyes. “Okay,” she says with a dip of her chin and a sharp exhale. “Let’s do this.”
Then she unclicks her seatbelt and opens the door. I kill the engine and get out, grabbing her bags from the back. She turns to face me as I hoist the duffel onto her shoulder.
“Thank you for being so supportive,” she whispers, like respect is revolutionary.
“Thank you for reminding me how it feels to actually live instead of survive.”
Lucy lets out a shaky breath and steps into me, arms sliding around my waist, face pressed against my chest. I hold her tight—one hand on her back, the other cradlingthe back of her head. She smells like coconut and sunshine. Like home.
“Text me when you land,” I say against her hair.
“I will.”
