She threw her hands into the air. “Okay, fine. Somehow you got it in your head you were the wronged party back in the day, but let me remind you, you broke up with me. You were gone, but I stayed right where you left me.” She tipped her chin up. “And I see it all so clearly now. We were never moving at the same speed, or in the same space, or wanting things to happen at the same time. Nothing has changed.”
“What? How do you figure?” he demanded, as incensed by her annoyance as her assessment. “We were kids, Cassidy.”
He placed extra emphasis on using her full name, then immediately regretted it. The snide tone didn’t lend much credence to any argument he might make for growing and maturing.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice flat.
But her attempt to brush him off only amped up his determination to get his point of view across.
“You were the one who said we should keep things casual,” he said.
“You moved to a town three hours away,” she reminded him.
“But you were the one who started dating other people.”
“I did not,” she shot back, her eyes wide with indignation.
“Someone told me you were hanging around with Robby McAvoy.”
She blinked and he couldn’t tell if she was stunned by the accusation or impressed with his total recall.
“Robby McAvoy?” She said the guy’s name like she was parsing it for hidden meaning.
“Yeah.”
“Robby McAvoy from Mr. Fenton’s history class?” Her brows drew together, thin furrows of hurt creasing her forehead as she stared at him, looking genuinely baffled. He wanted to smooth them away. He wanted to go back. Forget they ever stumbled down this particular path on memory lane.
“Who told you I was dating Robby McAvoy?”
“Jenna—”
“Burke,” she chorused along with him. Then, expelling a long sigh of depletion, she gave her head the barest shake. “Of course, Jenna Burke.”
“What does that mean?”
The eye roll was back again, but this time her weariness seemed bone deep. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does,” he insisted.
She sat straighter, then secured her thumbs under the straps of the backpack and lifted the weight of the bomb she was wearing off her shoulders for a few seconds. “No, it does not. Like Mr. Fenton’s class, Jenna Burke and Robby McAvoy, it’s history, Jake. It’s not what’s happening right now.”
“I know, but, Cass…”
She held up a hand to stop him. “No. You need to go.”
She hooked a thumb over her shoulder, oblivious to the fact she was riding in circles and therefore pointing in all directions. It was abundantly clear that she wanted him to go away.
“Go. There are bombs to be found. And an RV with who knows what waiting for us,” she added with a resolute nod.
Jake opened his mouth to object, but she preemptively thrust her palm into his face.
“You can read my ramblings while Max does his thing. I laid it all out there—the stop, the arrests, the testimony I gave. I couldn’t remember many of the specifics, but I’m sure your people can fill them in.”
“Listen—”
“No, you need to stop dredging up the past and start working because I’d like to have a future. And maybe by the time you get back, we’ll figure out how to talk to one another like adults.”
“Cass—”
