Chapter 16 #3
Our first stop is coffee and food, and I have to grip the table’s edge to keep from hauling her across it and fucking her in front of the entire coffee shop as she moans through eating her breakfast. I fear that might always be the case with her, me just barely able to control myself.
If these years apart proved anything, it’s that she means just as much to me now as she did when I first met her, and that’ll never change.
She can go wherever she wants in this world and run from whatever she needs to, but I’m going to love her the whole damn time.
“Hey, how’d your interview go?” I inquire when we walk out of the shop, our nearly empty coffees in hand. “I forgot to ask last night.”
“Well, we were a bit preoccupied, no?” She smirks, then her crooked grin falls quickly. “Uh, the interview went well. Really well, actually.”
Pride balloons in my chest because I expected nothing less from her.
And maybe a little excitement too, because it would mean she’d be staying here even longer, and I really want that, even if the reason isn’t for me.
“That’s amazing, Chloe, really. But how come you’re not smiling?”
She lifts her shoulders. “I don’t know. I just try not to let myself get too excited, in case it doesn’t pan out, you know? I’ve learned over the years that it’s best to go in with low expectations, then be wowed later if something good happens.”
I can’t say I blame her. I’ve adopted that same mindset, even if it is likely unhealthy.
“How’s Talia doing?” I change the subject, since it’s clear she doesn’t want to talk about it.
“Oh, you know Tally. The same but different. Still amazing though.”
“Bangs or no bangs?”
She smiles. “Bangs. I think. She’s always flip-flopping.”
“And Ian? How’s he doing?”
“He’s great. He misses his uncle, you know.”
A pang of guilt moves through me. When Chloe left, I didn’t feel like I had a right to talk to Talia or Ian anymore, even though I’d been part of their lives for so damn long. I realize now that probably wasn’t the best move.
“I miss him too. It’s been a while since I called. I should do that.”
“You should. You’re missing out. He’s so smart, Callum.
It’s almost scary sometimes how much he knows already.
But the one thing he can’t stand is science.
Talia was convinced he faked being sick to get out of a quiz, but it turned out he actually was.
I’m pretty sure he’ll never let her live that one down. ”
“Well, if he needs a science tutor, I think he’d have a pretty good candidate in you.”
It’s the first time I’ve referenced her old job, and it can be felt instantly. Her shoulders stiffen, and she walks just an inch farther away from me.
“I mean, I know you’re no longer a lab tech, and I know you hated it, but you were good at it.”
She smiles softly. “Thanks. And I didn’t hate it. I just… I don’t know. It didn’t feel like me, if that makes any sense. But maybe not. You’ve always known what you wanted to do with hockey.”
“Not always,” I tell her. “When I didn’t get picked for the draft that first year, I thought for sure my dream of playing professionally was gone, and I was ready to go all-in on business management. Hockey is part of me, yes, but it’s not all I am.”
“No, no. I know. It’s just…maybe I’m not describing it right.”
I don’t point out the irony in the writer not having the words. That little wave of awkwardness has passed, and I don’t want to ruin the moment again.
“I was good at biology. It was easy for me. But in many ways, it was too easy. I never felt a real challenge with it, and I think that’s part of the reason I ended up not liking it.
I wanted to be tested. I played it safe for a lot of my life, and I was tired of it.
I wanted adventure. I wanted to find out who I was. Writing allows me to do that.”
I want to tell her I’ve always known who she is, but I can understand where she’s coming from.
She needed to discover it herself. Slowly, the reasons she left are starting to make sense, but I’ve yet to get the full picture or learn why she chose the moment she did, why she stayed away.
Why did she decide I couldn’t be part of that journey with her?
I have so many questions I want to ask her, but they’re all cut short when she grabs my arm and lets out a loud cheer.
“This one! Let’s go in here!”
I let her pull me into an old thrift shop that looks like it has seen better days and grin as she all but skips down the aisles that are stocked full of every odd and end you can imagine.
“Oooh,” she says, lifting up a wooden pelican holding a bowl of what looks like ramen. “This is just exquisite. The details on the feathers. Magnificent.”
I laugh, knowing exactly what she’s doing.
It’s a game we used to play when thrifting.
We’d pick up the strangest thing we could find, then compliment it with a straight face.
Whoever laughed or broke first would have to ask the cashier if they had another one just like it.
It was so ridiculous and probably really annoying for the employee, but it was harmless fun, and I could use a bit of that right now.
“Yes, it truly is, but is it as magnificent as this?” I pick up an ashtray shaped like a sleeping raccoon—or at least that’s what I think it’s supposed to be. It’s beyond misshapen, and I’m fairly certain it has two extra legs, but who cares?
“Ah, yes, the six-legged trash panda,” she says with a blank face. “Explorers thought it was a myth, but behold—it is true!”
I hold it in the air. “Huzzah!”
“Huzzah!” she cheers, then immediately breaks character, doubling over in laughter.
“Um, sir?”
I turn to find the cashier standing a few feet away. “Yes?”
“Could you please put the sleeping chupacabra down?” Wait, what?
This looks nothing like a chupacabra. “It’s a very unique item, and we have a strict do-not-touch policy for this case right here.
” He points to the sign I completely missed.
“If you’d like to purchase it, we ask that you let us know and we’ll take care of it for you. ”
I roll my lips together, looking back at Chloe as she continues to laugh, then turn back to the cashier.
“Then we’ll take it.”
His eyes widen, surprised. “Wonderful. I’ll get it wrapped up right away.”
“And the pelican too.”
He frowns. “That’s an ostrich, but yes, we can get that boxed up as well.”
I hand him the statue, then grab Chloe’s hand, who is mouthing Ostrich? I shrug and drag her to the front, shooting her looks to try to get her to stop laughing, but it’s pointless. By the time we spill back out onto the street, we’re both snorting from laughing so hard.
“I cannot believe that’s an ostrich!” she says once we’ve finally calmed down.
“I can’t believe I just bought it.”
“It’s going to look so good next to your door. Oh! Oh! You could put it on the shelf next to our wedding photo. It’ll be perfect!”
Just the mention of our wedding has the air around us shifting, and suddenly, we’re not laughing at all anymore. It’s not awkward, but it’s not easy either.
“So, uh, where to next?”
She yawns, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “Yikes, sorry. I guess I’m a little more tired than I thought. Would you be mad if I suggested a nap?”
“Not at all. A nap sounds perfect.”
“Great, my hotel is just a few blocks over.”
Oh. She doesn’t mean a nap with me. It’s not what I expected, but I guess I should have.
“Lead the way,” I say, waving her on.
The walk is quiet, and more than once, I get the urge to reach for her hand, but I don’t.
I can’t understand how we can go from mind-blowing sex last night—and this morning too—to her going back to her hotel like it’s nothing.
I fucking hate it. She should be in my apartment. It should be our apartment.
“I’m just up here,” she says once we’ve walked for a while.
I glance around the unfamiliar area we’re in. I haven’t been over here, and I’m starting to understand why. It’s old, which is most of Seattle at this point, but I get a bad feeling in my gut that I can’t shake. It feels like we’re being watched, but I can’t tell from which direction.
Chloe pushes open the door I hardly even realized led to a hotel, and we step into a lobby. Or at least I think it’s a lobby. There are desks stacked two high, blocking off the elevators, and an old lady sitting behind the front check-in who looks like she might be falling asleep.
“This is where you’re staying?” I look up at the ceiling of the old building that’s in obvious need of a renovation.
There are cracks every few inches, and I’m surprised it’s still intact at this point. An older gentleman sits in a corner and tips a brown bag up to his lips, loudly slurping back what I assume is a beer before belching, the noise echoing through the mostly empty area.
“This is where I’m staying,” she confirms, pulling a set of keys out of her coat pocket.
I work my jaw back and forth. “Why?”
“Excuse me?”
“Why? This place… Fuck, it’s a piece of shit, Clover.”
I don’t bother keeping my voice down. There’s no point. Everyone can see that what I’m saying is true. She tips her chin higher like she’s offended by my words, but I don’t care. She is not staying here another night if I have anything to say about it.
“It’s perfectly fine, and I like it here.”
It’s like she forgets how damn well I know her and that I can read her better than anyone else. She’s lying. She doesn’t like it here, not one bit.
“Well, tough. You’re not spending another night here. Give me your keys. I’ll go get your bag.”
She gasps, clutching them to her chest. “No! You can’t just boss me around and demand that I leave. I’m an adult, Callum. I can make my own decisions.”