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We pack everything up and get on our way.
I vow to myself I’ll tell her as soon as we’re back at her place.
THIRTY-FIVE
Ansel
Ipull into Collins’s driveway and park my truck. The entire drive back to her place, all I could think about was how I’m going to tell her about the potential job in Portland. The last thing I want her to think is that I’m abandoning her. I don’t even know for sure that I’ll be offered the job yet, nor do I know if I’d even say yes.
Still, I’m antsy and nervous as I turn to face her in the cab of the truck.
“Do you want to come in for hot chocolate?”
Yes. Going inside will be better than doing this out here. Perfect.
“That’d be great.” I shut off the truck and hop out.
Once we’re inside and take off all our snow gear, Collins goes straight to the kitchen. I follow her. She pulls milk out of the fridge and pours it into a saucepan.
“When you said hot chocolate, you meant real hot chocolate.”
She grins over her shoulder. Her nose and her cheeks are still tinged with pink from the cold. “Is there any other kind?”
I grip the back of my neck and cringe. “I usually boil water and then just dump some of the powder in there.”
“Amateur.” She winks. “Can you grab the marshmallows out of that cupboard for me?” She points at the cupboard.
Ten minutes later, she passes me a large mug filled with white hot chocolate covered with tiny marshmallows.
“Want to sit in the family room?” I think that’s a better place for this conversation than the kitchen.
“Sure.”
She follows me, and we take a seat beside each other on the couch. I’m nervous as I work up the nerve to bring up the Portland job.
“See what you think.” She nods toward my drink and sips her own.
I bring the mug to my lips and take a small sip so I don’t burn my tongue. “Mmm. Oh my god, that’s so much better than what I make.”
Collins smiles again, then lets out a breath and straightens up in her seat, chin raised. “I need to ask you a favor.”
I frown, wondering why she seems like she’s readying for a fight. “What is it?”
“Will you read through the texts between Caleb and Madelyn?”
I blink several times. “You don’t want to do it yourself?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve thought about it, and I don’t want to see any more. Not the specifics of whatever they talked about, but I do have some questions I want answers to. I just don’t want the actual words in my head. I feel like the images of the texts I already saw are seared into my brain. I don’t want to make it worse.”
Of course I understand. It makes sense. But I’d be lying if I said I’m looking forward to it. “Yeah, sure then. If you think it will help you.”
“I do. I think until I know everything—at least everything I can know with him no longer here—I’ll just continue to wonder, to make up things in my head. It’s better if I know now. That way I can just deal with it and try to move on.”
I nod. “That makes sense.”
She sets her mug on the coffee table and stands. “I’ll go get it.”
She leaves the room, and I hear her going up the stairs.
