Chapter 21 #2
“I’m giving you the damn map.” He barks the words out impatiently, like he’s had enough.
That’s rich.
He swallows hard, his jaw tightening. His eyes never leave mine.
“Fine.”
What choice do I have?
I try to smooth the two pieces out against the old fence posts, but the gusts of wind keep yanking it free.
Frustration builds. The paper keeps crinkling, refusing to cooperate.
Hart steps over without asking, his body too close for comfort.
“Let me help.” His voice is a mix of patience and something else I can’t quite place.
I don’t argue. This isn’t going to happen without him.
He takes the map, moves it to a flat rock by the fence, and lays out both halves, each crease smoothed carefully.
I step back, arms crossed, watching him.
“I suspect we’re about here.” He taps a spot on the map, naming off a few landmarks we’d passed.
The wind picks up again, grabbing the map. I step in to hold it down, and his arm brushes mine. I jolt away, but my foot catches on a loose rock.
A low sound escapes my throat as I start tipping backward. Then his arm snakes around my waist, steadying me.
Our faces are close. Too close.
For a second, everything else fades away.
His eyes lock onto mine, and for one heartbeat, I forget everything else. There’s confusion, need, and want swirling in those eyes. But what does it even mean?
The wind howls and snatches the map, lifting both halves into the air with a triumphant flutter.
“The map!”
He lets my waist go, and I hit the ground.
Ouch. Shit.
I roll over and climb to my knees and watch the paper twist and flap.
He charges for it, and I stand up and bolt to help.
The pieces snag on the fence. Hart drops to his knees, sliding and reaching for the lower half before the wind tugs it free. The second half catches on a nail at the top of the fence. I leap for it, but it jerks away, meeting the other half midair in a twisting dance.
My palms grip the rough wood of the fence. My foot is already wedged on the first post, prepared to climb over. But we’re too late.
The map flutters to the ground near the longhorn. He sniffs, looks at us both, and then, with majestic grace, he plants a massive hoof on the fragile paper.
A slow crunch.
I groan.
Hart curses.
The longhorn lowers its head and begins to chew.
I look at Hart.
He looks at me.
“Asshole.” I jump off the fence.
“I’m the asshole?”
“All the time. Shit!” I run my fingers through my scalp, at my last straw. “I don’t even know why you’re here.”
“Because you’re not doing our bucket list without me.” This might be the most truthful thing he’s said to me since this morning.
“Our bucket list? Ours?” I can hardly describe the anger that surges through me.
How dare him?
How fucking dare him?
“Do you hear the irony in your words?”
He steps closer to me, and I hate the way he towers.
“You don’t get to just jump back into my life cause you’re”—I scoff, not even sure what to say—“you’re angry that I kept a list that you clearly didn’t want anything to do with.”
He opens his mouth, but I’m not done.
“I wouldn’t have come if I’d known you were coming.” It’s the truth. “I wouldn’t have gotten out of the RV if I’d known my sisters were going to abandon me with you.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
“Trust me. I know!” The words explode out of me, raw and guttural. “You don’t have to tell me how much you don’t want to be near me. The night you took off said it in fucking spades.”
His face shifts.
Something weird.
Something familiar, yet not from the man he has become. Not the angry, bitter, woman-fucking-manwhore.
“Because it was just sex, right? Just banging the forbidden Fox daughter.”
His jaw tightens.
“Don’t go quiet now.” I scoff. “Just say it. Just admit it. You used me to screw me. To tell all your jock friends in the locker room and laugh and high-five with them. And the second you succeed, you walked away.”
The vein on his throat throbs.
“Just say it!” The words tears from inside me, so loud it feels like the world is shaking. “Tell me it was just sex. Tell me every single thing we did meant nothing to you, including the bucket list. Tell me.”
He says nothing.
Like always, he says nothing.
But for the first time, something clicks inside me. It’s long overdue. His silence only proves he was never the person I thought he was. I don’t need his confession, guilt, or acknowledgment.
I just need to walk away.
And this time, I will, but I’ll leave everything that is our past right here on this dead-end street.
I glance at the map, destroyed under the hoof. “We’d better find a gas station or corner store to get some directions.”
I turn and take two steps when he finally speaks.
“I have my phone.”
“What?”
He repeats himself, and I slowly turn around.
“You can navigate us to the campground.”
He had it this whole time? And he knew he had it?
I’m too tired to be angry. Or it’s this new inner peace inside me, telling me to walk away.
I slap the dust off my hands. “I’m sure you can navigate yourself.”
I turn and stalk back to the bus, but I don’t sit in the passenger’s seat.
I’m done with whatever hellhole we’ve been living in since high school.
I sit in the back, and before I can even think another thought, I fall asleep. Only to wake up to arguing. I push the curtains aside and glance out the window beside me. We’re at the campground.
Thank the stars.
I open the door and step down. Angry Hart marches toward me.
“What’s going on?”
“They won’t let us in,” he snarls.
“Oh.”
“We’re too late.” He hops over the stairs, skipping them, and straight into the bus.
“What are you doing?”
“Finding somewhere else to camp this thing for the night.” He holds open the door. “Come on.”
“I’m not going with you.”
“Jade—”
“I’m not spending the night with someone I don’t trust. I’ll find my sisters.”
He stands silent, that vein throbbing. Finally, he pulls out his cell phone from his back pocket and holds it out to me.
“At least find out where they are.”
I stare at the phone.
“I don’t need a hero. I never did. I need someone to treat me like I’m worth more than a fleeting moment.”
I turn, but the lights of the campsite don’t bring relief. I’m close, but yet miles away. I’ll be lucky to find them tonight. And if I don’t, I’m stuck out alone.