I nod, reaching up to rub at the back of my neck, the tension from before getting worse the longer this conversation goes on. “Well, good luck with the hunt. I?—”
“I want to see you again.”
I pause, unsure I heard her correctly. “What do you mean?”
“I, uh…” She huffs, then pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “I want to talk again. I don’t want to not talk anymore.”
I want to remind her it washerdecision to cease communication, but I’m so fucking happy to hear her words that I don’t.
“Okay.”
Her eyes light up for the first time since I opened the door, and she looks so much like she did years ago that it makes my chest ache. I rub at the spot that hurts, and she follows the movement, her eyes landing on my empty left hand.
If she has questions, she doesn’t voice them. She just returns her eyes to mine as she says, “Okay.”
We don’t move. We don’t speak. We just stand there. Me because I’m not ready for her to leave yet, and her because…well, I’m not sure, but I’m not about to rush her away. I want to ask her so many things. How has she been? Where is she living now? Is she still at the address I sent the card to, or has she moved again? It felt like every few months, I would get a text with a new address. London, Georgia, Ireland, San Francisco, Spain, Brazil. She’s been all over the place, and I want so desperately to know about her adventures, but I’m too scared to ask the wrong thing and send her running.
As if she’s getting antsy too, she clears her throat, then points to the door.
“I, uh, I’d better get going. I have an assignment due and a couple thousand words to write still.”
Don’t go, I want to beg.Stay. Don’t leave me again.
But I can’t say any of that, so I say nothing at all. Instead, I lead her toward the door, letting the silence linger. She pauses when we reach the small entryway, turning my way, and I fight the urge to close the already short distance between us because it’s still too much.
“Can we get together while I’m in town? Maybe grab a coffee?”
A coffee? Doesn’t she know I want more than coffee with her?
I nod. “Sure, coffee sounds good.”
“Great. I’ll, um, I’ll text you. Or you can text me. You’re the hotshot hockey player with the busy schedule.” She smiles softly, opening the door, her hand on the knob. “It was really good to see you, Callum.”
It was really good to see you.It sounds like she’s talking to an old friend, not the person she promised the rest of her life to, and I feel it in every word. I rub at the spot on my chest again, my fingers brushing against the ring I keep hidden beneath my shirt.
“You too…Clover.”
Her breath catches. It’s subtle, but I don’t miss it…and it’s the only thing that gives me hope that maybe this little visit of hers has affected her as much as it has me.
With one last glance backward, she leaves. I watch her go, not turning away until she’s tucked inside the elevator. I close the door and lean against it. When I pull my phone from my pocket, I realize how hard my hands are shaking.
“Fuck,” I mutter, dragging one over my face, trying to scrub away all the thoughts running through my mind right now.
I can’t believe that just happened. Chloe was here.Right fucking here.Standing in my apartment with all her beauty and making my heart beat in a way it hasn’t in years. My breaths come in sharp but shallow, and it feels like the walls are closing in on me. Crushing me.Killingme.
I need air. I need…I don’t know what I need.
Somehow, I manage to swipe through my recent calls and hit the name I’ve called upon more times than I could count since everything went down with Chloe and me.
“Cal?” says a craggy voice. “Everything good?”
“No.” There’s a shuffling, a grunt, and a distinctly feminine voice asking where her companion is going. “Are you busy?” I ask, even though I can clearly hear he is.
“Nah, it’s nobody important.”
“What the fuck?!” the mystery woman says, and if I weren’t so consumed by what just happened, I’d yell at him for that. For being so damn smart, he sure is dumb sometimes.
She slings a few hurtful words at him, and there’s a bunch of other commotion before a door slams.
