In my heart, I know he's right. Lucy is begging me to go to her; I'm more sure of that than anything else. I think the true magnitude of the situation is really hitting me now. The fact that we are about to talk to a girl that lost her best friend and I have that friend's heart beating in my chest. "It just feels like too much. I don't know if I can do this."
He leans down and gives me a gentle kiss on the cheek, and then his mouth goes to my ear. "You are the strongest person I know, Millie St. James. There is no doubt in my mind that you can do this."
I half laugh and half sob as I place my head against his shoulder. "I don't believe you. You are a hockey player, you know plenty of people that are stronger than me, you included."
He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his body. I lean into his warmth and the comfort he is so freely offering. "I'm not talking about physical strength. Yeah, sure, we've got you beat there. I'm talking about mental fortitude, baby. You've got us beat in spades where it truly matters."
He rubs soothing circles across my back. I'm practically purring like a cat at the affection. We're still standing in front of the restaurant doors, but it's not that busy, and I don't really care that anyone and everyone can see us. "I don't know if that's true either. I feel pretty darn weak and overwhelmed right now."
"Then let me carry some of that for you. All you have to worry about is eating and getting back in the car. I'll handle the rest."
If there was any doubt that I was falling in love with this man, it would have been abolished by those three sentences. My heart floods with a warmth I've never experienced before, a feeling so compelling that I lift up on my toes to kiss him. Right before my lips touch his, I whisper, "I love you."
His smile is instant and made up of pure joy. We kiss for what feels like forever but is probably only a few moments before he pulls back and says four little words that change my life forever. "I love you too."
"I understand, sir."
I groan as I stretch and blink my eyes open. It's a lot darker than I remember before I decided to close my eyes for a bit.
"Yes, sir."
I lazily look over toward Rowan. He has a phone against his ear. Then I look out the car and notice we're parked in front of a rest stop.
Rowan says a few more "yes, sir's" before he pulls the phone away from his ear and hands it back to me. I look down at the screen and see that it was my father, my brain finally putting it together that it was my phone he was talking on. My eyes go wide with surprise.
"You were talking to my dad?"
"He kept calling, and you needed the rest."
I gulp as I continue to look at the now-black screen. We left in such a hurry this morning that all I had time to do was scribble on a piece of paper that I was going on a road trip with Rowan and I would explain everything when I got back. I was expecting a phone call and having to give them more of an explanation, but I wasn't expecting Rowan to have to deal with it.
"Was he mad?"
Rowan winces, his reaction more than adequate for an answer. He raises his hand up and hovers his first finger over his thumb. "Just a little bit."
Now it's my turn to wince. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that. I was planning on talking to them."
"I guess that's my karma for telling you I would handle everything." He laughs like he isn't perturbed in the least. "It's okay, really. I think we needed to have a conversation anyway. He wants us all to have dinner once we get back."
"How much did you tell him?" I'm not mad. I just want to make sure we are all on the same page.
"Just the bare basics, enough to get him to calm down. I told him you would call after you woke up." He gives me a sympathetic smile before backing the truck up to get back on the road.
I blow out a long breath before I pick up my phone and call my dad back.
I spend close to an hour trying to talk him out of driving down here to meet us. I know why he's mad, and I understand it to a degree, but this is something I need to do for myself, and I tell him as much.
It wasn't until my mom got on the phone with him that he finally started to calm down. I'm not saying my mom isn't worried or upset, but I think she understands my need for independence with this more than my dad.
I feel like I've done three rounds of mental gymnastics when I get off the phone with them.
"You handled that well," Rowan says. He stayed silent throughout the phone call, offering steady reassurance by stroking the top of my hand the whole time. It was soothing and exactly what I needed to feel grounded. I didn't have to reach for my pulse point once during the whole conversation, and that's really saying something about the level of comfort this man provides.
I shrug one shoulder because, as much as I want to do this by myself, I still feel guilty for telling them so. "Thank you. I still feel bad, though."
"They're your parents. They love you and want to protect you. It's understandable that they feel the way they do."
"So you think I made the wrong decision? That I should let them come?" I turn in my seat so I can see his expression.
