Carter spits out the sip of beer he just took—in the other direction, thank goodness. “Jesus, Mia. Really?”
Her face lights up as if she lives to torture her brother. Being the sole girl with three brothers, I can only imagine how protective of her they are. I always wanted a sibling, a brother especially. It makes me sad knowing Amelia might never have one.
Christian’s face appears in my mind. It only makes me sadder.
“Get Linc or Dax,” Carter says. “I worked the Saturday before last. Besides, I need to help Kenna load her car in the morning.”
She turns to me. “Dang. I almost forgot you’re leaving. But I doubt it’ll be tomorrow.”
My brows knit. “Why do you say that?”
“Haven’t you seen the weather?” She gestures to one of the large-screen TVs hanging in the corner. “The storm is taking a turn. Something about a shift in the low pressure system. They’re predicting a foot or more of snow this weekend.”
I look outside. It’s a clear sky. Not a snowflake in sight.
“I guess I’ll have to get up earlier than I thought.”
Mia pulls out her phone and shows me her weather app. “Looks like the snow will start in the middle of the night.”
I’m not sure if I’m happy or sad about it. Because as hard as I know it’s going to be, I’ve shored myself up for leaving tomorrow. I’m committed to it. I’ve accepted it. And now there’s a chance I’ll be delayed by a day or two. Longer even. After which I’ll have to go through all these emotions again. I’m not sure my heart could take it.
Mia points out the window. “Truman’s Grocery is staying open late tonight. Better head over if you need anything.” She scoots out of the booth, looks between us, and smiles. “I’m willing to bet this weekend just got a whole lot more interesting for you two.” She walks away, but tosses Carter a wink over her shoulder. “Don’t worry about towing duty. I’ll figure it out.”
Carter’s eyes are glued to the television. I turn and watch as well, squinting to read the closed captioning since we can’t hear it. I can’t believe my luck with the terrible timing of this storm. Carter obviously doesn’t feel the same way if the growing grin on his face is any indication.
“Mind if we stop at the market on the way back?” he asks. “We’re almost out of bread.”
“You think it will be that bad? Worse than the day I wrecked?”
“A guy can hope,” he says, his enticing hazel eyes locking onto mine.
I don’t tell him a girl can too. Because the last thing I need him knowing is how much I want to stay, even though I know I should go. I stare back at the TV, hoping—no, praying for snow. Because despite knowing full well that I should be moving on, I can’t help but want just one more day—or two, or… more—with the most incredible man I’ve ever met.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Carter
Outside the pub, I look up at the sky. It’s hard to believe a storm is coming. I see stars. The moon. And the air is completely still. There’s not one indication of changing weather.
I have a love-hate relationship with snow. As a tow truck driver and part owner of an auto shop, I love it. Every storm showers us with new business. Every patch of ice has the potential to bring a new customer. But as the father of a special-needs son, I loathe those same icy streets and sidewalks, fearing Christian could take a bad fall and end up in the hospital.
Kenna is also staring up at the sky. “Do you really think we’re going to get a storm?”
I shrug. But damn, I hope Mia and the meteorologists are right. Because despite how much I hate it for Christian, this storm might be my only hope of keeping Kenna here a bit longer.
Offering her my elbow, I say, “Shall we?”
She hooks her hand around my arm and we cross the street.
Apparently the news is out. I’ve never seen Truman’s so packed, especially on a Friday night. I grab a basket. We don’t need a lot. I always keep a decent selection of food in the freezer.
I lead Kenna to the produce department first where we grab some fruits and vegetables. Then we hit the bread aisle. This is where I notice the sparse shelves. As I’m picking up one of the last few loaves of bread and a pack of hot dog buns, I hear my name.
Lincoln and Tiffany are coming the opposite way, their cart loaded with enough supplies to get through an apocalypse. I shake my head. “You expecting snowmageddon?”
“I was out of town all week,” Tiffany says. “The cupboards are bare.”
I hold my tongue and don’t ask why they wouldn’t stay at Linc’s place then. He’s got the appetite of a silverback, and a stocked pantry to accommodate it.
