"You're wrong," she says quietly. "There's already a this. You leaving doesn't change that."
I don't have an answer. I can't argue with something I know is true.
"Goodbye, Callie."
"This isn't goodbye."
"It has to be."
I walk out before she can respond. Before I can change my mind. Before I do something I can't undo.
The truck is where I left it. I get in and start the engine. I don't look back at the shop. I can't look back.
I drive home on autopilot. The cabin is dark when I arrive. I don't turn on any lights, just sit in the truck in the driveway and try to breathe through the tightness in my chest.
My phone is in my pocket. I can feel it. Can feel the temptation to pull it out and text her. Tell her I'm sorry. Tell her she's right about everything.
I don't.
Instead, I sit there until the sky is completely dark and my phone battery dies and I'm left alone with the choice I've made.
The right choice.
The only choice.
The choice that's tearing me apart.
5
CALLIE
Iwatch his truck pull away through the shop window.
My hand is still warm where I touched his arm. The admission hangs in the air. You're not imagining it.
He said it. Finally said it. Then walked out anyway.
I lock the door and lean against it. The shop is too quiet. Too empty. I should finish cleaning. Should go home. Should do anything except stand here replaying the last ten minutes.
I do it anyway.
The way he looked at me when he said it doesn't matter what I want. The careful distance he maintained even while admitting the truth. The hurt in his eyes when he said goodbye.
My phone buzzes.
Luke: You still at the shop?
I close my eyes. Of course. Of course Luke would text right now.
Me: Just closing up.
Luke: Want company? I can swing by.
The last thing I need is my brother showing up and reading my face. Reading the frustration and anger and hurt that I can't quite hide.
Me: I'm good. Long day. Heading home soon.
Luke: Alright. Text me when you're back safe.
