18 #2
She had the grace to look sheepish as she answered. “Well, no.”
Drew grit his teeth and turned his attention back to the road. A lone semitruck passed them in the oncoming lane, its wheels whistling by in the otherwise silent darkness. “Where is it?” he finally asked.
There was a pause, and he thought for a moment she wasn’t going to tell him. Then she admitted softly, “Huntsville, Alabama.”
Huntsville, Alabama.
Huntsville.
Alabama!
How in the world was he supposed to be on the farm planting corn and still be with her in Huntsville, Alabama?!
You’re not, came the obvious answer, and the bridge of his nose began to burn. So much for being in love with him.
“Andrew, listen to me,” she rushed on, pleading now.
“There’s very little chance they’ll offer me the job, and honestly, even if they do, I don’t think I’m going to take it.
I don’t want to leave. I’m happy here. I’m happy with you.
” She reached out and squeezed his forearm, and it was all he could do not to jerk it away.
She didn’t say anything else, and he didn’t have a response, so they rode the rest of the way to Copper Hill in silence.
But as they crossed the town limits, the rest of Dr. Timson’s revelation passed through Drew’s memory.
He’d said the job was a smart career move—a specialty; that sounded like good money.
He’d also said Savannah would be on a short list of qualified applicants; that meant she’d be a good fit.
And she was from Alabama, so she’d obviously be closer to her family.
She was only twenty-two. It was a big deal to have a good opportunity like this, and she was ready to turn it down? Why?
Because she’s happy with you, a voice reminded, but somehow this didn’t bring the relief it should have; instead, it made something roll over inside his chest. He couldn’t be the reason she gave up something good just so she could sit in this little town and keep him company for the rest of her life.
She’d worked hard for her degree and her career; she shouldn’t waste it just so he wouldn’t be alone.
By the time they pulled into his driveway, he’d decided what he was going to do. It was the only thing he could do—even if he knew it would tear him apart.
Savannah eyed Drew warily as he parked the truck near his front porch stairs.
She wasn’t sure what else to say to reassure him that she wasn’t going to disappear in the middle of the night.
She also wasn’t sure it was her job to have to do that.
If he didn’t believe in her—in them—enough to trust her, then that was a whole other problem by itself.
He pulled the key from the ignition and sat quietly for a moment, and she waited for him to say something—anything. But he didn’t. What he did do was pop open his door and climb to the ground. “Is all your stuff together?” he asked, not meeting her eye.
“Uh, I think so?” she answered. Then she forced an awkward sort of chuckle. “Are you kicking me out?”
He stood in the open doorway on his side of the cab, staring at something on the floorboard, though she couldn’t tell what. “I think maybe you should go,” he said.
Savannah felt her mouth fall open. “Go?” she repeated. “Seriously? Andrew, I haven’t done anything wrong here!”
He shook his head and shut his door before striding off toward the porch, leaving her sitting under the fading interior lights.
She shoved her door open in a huff and worked her way to the ground.
It took longer than it should have because she had to brace herself on the door frame with one hand and hold up her long skirt with the other.
Her dainty heels wobbled a bit on the narrow running boards, but she made it to the ground without spraining an ankle. A little help would have been nice.
“Andrew Tanner!” she shouted, starting after him. He was already inside, but she thundered up the porch stairs and flung open the front door, bringing the December chill in with her. “I’m not going anywhere until we talk about this!” she insisted.
“What is there to talk about?” he roared. “You’ve got an awesome opportunity, and you should take it. There’s nothing here to stop you.”
“But I don’t want it! I want to stay here! I want what we have!”
“But we don’t—” he broke off, his chest heaving as he stared her down. Then he started again. “Savannah, this isn’t—”
She watched his throat bob as he swallowed hard. Then his face changed, taking on a coldness she hadn’t seen from him in a long time.
“—this isn’t working,” he finished.
She stared at him, every gear in her mind grinding to a halt. Ryker barked from somewhere else in the house. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. “What isn’t working?”
“This!” he shouted, flinging his arms wide as if encompassing them, the room and everything in it. “Look around you, Savannah! I don’t even recognize my own house anymore! I don’t recognize my life! You came in here like a tornado and changed everything!”
Savannah looked around, her gaze darting over the strands of garland and puffs of cotton snow and ceramic Christmas trees she’d scattered everywhere. “That’s not a reason, Andrew. If you don’t like the decorations, I’ll take them down,” she said.
“It’s not the stuff, it’s you!” he bellowed, and Savannah actually took a step back. “You’re everywhere! I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t work; I can’t do anything without you in my head and on my phone and in every nook and cranny of this house, and I didn’t even want you here!”
She felt his words like a smack across the face. But he wasn’t done.
“I didn’t want you here, but you bulldozed through me anyway,” he went on, his volume lower but his tone just as hard. “And now it’s time for you to leave.”
There was a moment when heat pricked at the corners of her eyes and she could barely breathe.
This wasn’t happening. It was all a really bad dream, and in a second, she’d wake up with her cheek pressed against the window of his truck, and he’d smile over at her and say “hey, sleepyhead,” and everything would be alright.
She waited, but the longer he stood there with his arms crossed, looking at her the way he always had before—back when she’d thought he hated her—the more she began to doubt that waking up would fix anything.
“But you love me,” she breathed, not intending to let the words out but unable to keep them inside.
He barely moved, but she saw the line of his jaw clench and his spine straighten. His eyes locked onto something behind her. “I’ve never said that,” he replied.
His harsh response nearly took her feet out from under her, but then she recognized it for what it was: a lie. She knew this man, and she knew he was in love with her—even if he hadn’t voiced the actual words—because he had told her, just in other ways.
So instead of crying like she’d wanted to a second before, she got mad.
She got so mad she could feel her fingers vibrating from the inside out, and everything in her field of vision blurred.
“So that’s how you want to do this? Semantics?
I know what you haven’t said, and that means nothing!
” she shot back, her volume rising. “If you need space, I’ll give you space!
You want to take a break? Fine! But you don’t get to stand there and act like this was never anything at all because we both know better, and you don’t get to pretend this is what’s best for me because you don’t get to decide that! ”
She snatched the small bag with her street clothes and makeup from where she’d left it on the couch and stormed toward the door, which she had never closed behind her. Somehow, she’d barely noticed the cold.
Turning on the porch, she fired a parting shot toward where he seemed to be rooted to the floor. “You’re digging this hole by yourself, Andrew Tanner!” she called. “Call me when you find your way out of it.”