“Hey, it’s me. I—” I stop. Start again. “You’re right, we should talk. About … everything. Call me back?”
I hang up and immediately feel like an idiot.
We should talk?That’s the best I could do?
I walk toward the east wing that houses the fire department, my head swimming, treading water, dropping below the surface.
Austin restocks the medical supply cabinet and hollers, “She left early. Saw her about an hour ago. Said she needed to clear her head.”
“Did she say where she was going?”
Never mind that he knew I was looking for her.
“No. But Maverick?” He pauses. “Whatever you’re going to do? Do it soon. Before you overthink yourself out of the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
He stumps off, leaving me alone with the sinking feeling that I’m screwing this up.
The bet. The kiss. The morning after.
I need to tell her about the wager before someone else does. Before she hears it wrong and thinks the worst.
First, I need to find her.
I pull out my phone and stare at her last message.Can we talk?I type a hasty response that I fear is too little. Too late.
Me: Where are you?
I spend the rest of the night waiting for a response that I fear might not come.
26
WINNIE
My phone won’t stop buzzingand it’s making me twitchy. Normally, I address everything as it comes because I am a doer. A fixer. A boss!
But as notification after notification lights up the screen with missed calls from Fabrizio, texts from Mom, more texts from Fab, I consider booking a cruise—never been on one and had little interest until now, but disembarking on a Caribbean Island and getting lost wouldn’t be so bad. I could weave a dress out of palm fronds and live off coconut meat.
I don’t think there are bears or other deadly animals on tropical islands, but the guilt of abandoning my family would eat me alive.
I’m in my car, in the parking lot, unable to drive back to Grandma’s until I figure this out.
The voicemail icon appears and I listen to my brother’s voice, tight with panic.Call me back. It’s urgent.
Would Patton make an escape with me? I wonder what his desert island item would be. First, he’d need to reply to my text. I fear he’s avoiding me.
Yet, I’m still floating from last night—touching my lips everyfive minutes as if to confirm the kiss happened, still replaying the moments in his arms, still wondering what happens next. Like a skydiver, the ground rapidly gets closer as the minutes turn into hours and I don’t hear from him.
Reality is much like a slow-moving steamroller and I have to call my brother back.
“Finally!” He sounds breathless. “We got an eviction notice.”
The world tilts. “What?”
“Mom and Dad didn’t get the business loan. We’re three months behind on rent. The landlord is done waiting. We have thirty days or?—”
I press my fingertips into my hairline. How did this happen?
“Can you send more money?”
