Paige Turner Goes to Yellowstone (Love is Blind #2)

1. Paige

1

Paige

T oday is the day I bury myself.

The old self that is.

I’m only being partially dramatic on this one since tomorrow, I set a metaphorical sail and journey to the great beyond.

As in the open road, not the grave…

Okay, I need to work on this a bit more.

What I’m trying to say is I’m leaving.

I’m leaving my apartment—the one in the basement of my childhood home.

I’m leaving my parents. But not until after they gave me a phone book of numbers I should call for all sorts of issues ranging from popped tires to gynecologists in other states.

I’m leaving my sister, Constance. Although she reminds me she’ll still haunt my dreams every night. How sweet of her.

And I’m leaving my best friends.

This one might be the hardest. We’ve barely been away from each other for more than a week on family vacations or bouts of influenza or chicken pox. Come to think of it, Rhodes and I had chicken pox at the same time in seventh grade. A difficult era for all of us, including back scratches and oatmeal baths…together.

Relax. We were in swimsuits.

And our relationship is far more complicated than mostly clothed baths now.

Amber has already packed me a leopard print stationery set that will allow me to send her one letter every hour while I’m gone, and Rhodes has asked me if the water tank in Vincent VanGo, my 2000 Chevy Express camper van—a.k.a. my home on wheels for this next chunk of time—is full.

I should probably figure out what a water tank is.

Right after I add wallpaper to every interior wall.

“This print is even better in person,” I say, standing outside the double doors at the side of the van to admire my— Rhodes ’—handiwork.

He grunts as he sits back on his heels. “You don’t think it’ll get weird having printed eyeballs looking at you all the time?”

I quirk my head to the side and study the black eyes on the white backdrop. “They’re watching over me.”

“Whatever you say,” he mumbles and scrapes a tool to help flatten out any air bubbles.

There’s an underlying tension in his shoulders and tone I’ve been ignoring for the past two weeks after he told me how he felt. He likes me . Sure, I feel the same way about him, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to stop my life for a man.

Well, not this time.

I’ve done it too many times in the past. But Future Me is learning from her mistakes.

Plus, Rhodes pretended to be Roger Who Cleans , texting me for a week straight after my coworker recommended I do a blind dating experiment with three men. He lied about who he was, and when he arrived at the reveal, I really showed him how angry I was.

By kissing him.

I might want to do it again one-hundred and two more times, but we— I —shouldn’t.

This journey is as much about finding myself as it is time to sort through my feelings for my best friend. He’s apparently liked me for a lot longer than I’ve realized, according to Amber. And all of these new feelings are bubbling out of me like boiling water in a pot.

I need a lid and to turn down the heat.

“Is there anything else you need?” Rhodes asks, unfolding himself from my van and standing beside me. More like towering over me. He’s too tall, and I love it. “I’ll be by tomorrow to help with putting together the storage containers for under the bed.”

About that. “My dad already did it.”

“Oh. Alright then. What else can I—”

“I’m leaving,” I blurt out, turning to face him.

He pivots toward me, his dark, disheveled hair falling over his forehead. The T-shirt he’s wearing has a hole in the neck and has been lovingly known as his work shirt for years, and his jeans hang low on his tapered hips. But it’s his forearms I have to peel my eyes away from.

I’m going to miss those, too.

His laugh is low and clipped. “I know.”

“No, like…” Why is this so hard to get out? “Like I’m leaving tomorrow…morning.”

His eyes widen, and he nods his head for an incalculable amount of time. “I thought you were leaving in another week. There’s still stuff to do. And the sound the van makes when you put it in reverse needs fixing.”

“I know, I know.” I close my eyes briefly and talk with my hands. “It sounds like a pack of crows being run over.”

He lowers his brows. “I think that’s called a murder .”

“Fascinating.” That makes a lot of sense. “But I’m going to head out early.”

He shifts on his feet and grabs opposite elbows. “And what about the rest of the work?”

Do not look at his forearms . “I’ll do them on the road.”

Dad has already packed me a small tool kit with screws and things named Phillip and Allen . I’m sure I can fix the last few things. I’ve already packed up everything I need from my basement apartment, leaving the rest for chance with Constance.

His jaw locks, and his teeth grind together behind his cheek. “Okay.”

“Okay,” I confirm.

I can tell he isn’t thrilled by this. Maybe it’s because he was hoping for me to change my mind and confess my undying love for him. I’ve been close. It’s not that my love for him doesn’t exist, but I need to make sure it’s real and not clouded by his feelings. And I need to do this, venture out on my own without relying on him or anyone else to tell me what my life should look like.

I’m sold out for this plan.

The one I still need to flesh out.

In the last three weeks, I’ve broken up with another boyfriend, quit my job working at Upstairs Closet Thrift, and kissed my best friend.

I need a minute.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on his feet. “So, this is goodbye?”

“Only for a couple of weeks. Maybe less. Maybe more.” I try to comfort him, but it doesn’t seem to work.

In reality, I’m comforting myself because as much as I want— need —to do this, I hate the idea of doing it alone. No one will be there with me, holding my hand and telling me I’ve got this. It’s the point of this whole trip but also the cause of my watery eyes.

Rhodes looks up, clocking my tears in seconds. “Do you want a hug?”

“Yes.” I fall into his chest with a thud, gripping his waist like I’m a desperate person or something. I haven’t even left yet.

But somehow, this is getting real.

I moved up my timeline because I knew how hard this part was going to be, and I didn’t want to prolong it. Waiting wouldn’t change the fact I’m leaving. So, I surprised my other best friend, Amber, this morning when she dropped off coffee and my favorite blueberry muffin after her early morning shift at the coffee stand. And now, I’m telling Rhodes, which feels harder.

I was resolved to let my feelings go, but after waking them up from a long winter’s sleep, I don’t know how to do that. It’s confusing and frustrating all in one awful package of stomach aches and sweaty palms.

“Don’t forget about me, okay?” I breathe into his chest through my barely restrained emotions.

“You don’t have to go,” he says. “We could take the van on a few weekend trips; you don’t have to drive to Montana.”

I close my eyes, and more tears fall as I try to think of words to convince him of my decision. But the only ones that come are, “But I do.”

He props his chin on the top of my head. “I know you do. It’s alright.”

I don’t believe him, but it will have to be good enough.

We aren’t leaving things on the best of terms. He wants a relationship, and I want…TBD. Until then, we’re best friends who are there for each other, so I let him be here for me now.

“Cleocatra is going to miss you. A lot,” I tell him, flattening my palms on his midback.

“Will you tell her I’ll miss her, too?”

“Of course.”

He squeezes me tighter. “Tell her I’ll never forget about her.”

“I’ll tell her,” I whisper.

He’s not really talking about my precious kitty angel, Cleo. She’d hate to know she was in the middle of whatever weird thing we have going, but I know we need to get these words out somehow. Rhodes doesn’t have to remind me about the kiss we shared a couple of weeks ago. I remember it in details that still make me blush.

“And tell her to ease up on the gas pedal sometimes.”

I laugh into his chest, confirming my suspicions. Then by sheer force of will, I pull back and wipe my nose, keeping my gaze square to the ground. “Cleo’s going to figure things out and hope that she has more answers by the time she gets back from this trip.”

He doesn’t move away as I admit things I haven’t been able to. “There’s no pressure from me. Just let Cleo know I’ll always be around.”

“I will,” I say, lifting my eyes to his.

They’re watery, like mine, but neither of us lets them fall.

I don’t know the kind of person I’ll be when I return. If I’ll want the same things I did before, or if I’ll suddenly enjoy eating portobello mushrooms as much as I love buying cutesy items shaped like them. There’s an unknown waiting period ahead, but as hard as this is, I’m confident in my decision.

He swipes his thumb under my lashes, catching a tear I thought I kept in. “I love you, Paige.”

My lips part, and I start blinking rapidly to quell more tears from spilling.

He drops his hand and rushes to add, “I don’t expect you to say it back. In fact, I don’t want you to unless you really mean it. Not in a friendly way, at least. And when you figure out how you feel about me, I promise I’ll accept it.” Pausing, he breathes a sigh. “Can we still text?”

Words are hard, so I nod.

He nods, too, then tucks his hands in his pockets and walks backward toward the curb where his tiny car is parked. Minuscule might be the better word since his head threatens to puncture a hole in the roof. But I still love this about him. His understated confidence in just about everything, the steady way he enters situations like a natural, and how he doesn’t question what his heart is telling him.

I wish mine would do the same.

Instead, she’s a filthy liar who has liked anything with a pulse.

He starts the engine and waves before pulling away from the curb and buzzing away like a little bumble bee determined to find the next flower.

I finally let the breath rattling in my chest out with a shaky exhale. “Goodbye, Rhodes.”

The tears are back and falling with a force that has me covering my mouth to hide the gasps. It hurts more than I expected.

I may not know what I want in life, but it’s official, I hate goodbyes.