Chapter 49
KELSEY
Jackson, Wyoming
If the last twenty-four hours have taught me anything, it's that I don’t like flying or being in airports. After driving aimlessly around in the rental car, I found myself eventually heading toward Taos just to get away from Sterling Springs.
When I saw the sign for the airport on the outskirts of town, I figured I’d go back home.
So I returned the rental car and rushed through the Taos airport to get on the last flight to Salt Lake City.
Then I spent the night in the airport—on a horribly uncomfortable bench—just to catch the first flight to Jackson this morning on a tiny, cramped plane.
If I never set foot in an airport terminal or on an airplane again, that would be fine by me.
At least if I’m looking on the bright side, for a change, hurrying through the airports and being exhausted was enough to distract me from what I heard Sutton and Slade talking about last night. I can still hear their voices and those words echoing in the recesses of my mind.
Close on Gloria’s.
Maybe she’ll visit you in Seattle.
Even after a night of crappy sleep in an airport, those words still haunt me and stoke my worst anxieties while I walk through the small Jackson airport toward the doors to the parking lot, complete with elk antler arches like the ones on the town square.
It’s an almost comforting reminder that I’m home—or at least the place I will always want to call home.
That little bit of comfort doesn’t change that it feels like I’m losing Grandma’s house all over again and worse, maybe losing Sutton too.
That part feels bittersweet though because I love him.
I nearly turned back to Sterling Springs multiple times last night because I love him so much that it hurts down to my bones.
I think that’s what makes this worse—it feels like my trust was at best, misplaced, or at worst, betrayed.
That’s why I couldn’t stay there last night. That’s why I needed to get away and clear my head.
There’s still one thing that I haven’t been able to get out of my mind.
It’s the way he sounded last night. It was just so…
off. He was so rigid and uncomfortable last night when he was talking with Slade.
Maybe I should have stayed and talked to him, but I was too afraid that I might have been right.
Those thoughts are quelled, at least for a welcome moment, when I walk through the sliding glass doors, out of the airport.
I’m hit with the soothing fresh mountain air that immediately acts like a balm to my frayed nerves.
It just feels like home and for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, I take a breath—one that gives me enough air to finally try and think straight.
I close my eyes and take another deep breath, enjoying the steadying feeling.
Alright. I can do this.
I need to get into town and go to the apartment, at least while I still have it.
All I want to do is curl up in bed with Felix and sob the tears I’ve been holding back into his soft fur.
It doesn’t matter that he acts like he would choose Sutton over me, I’ve missed my big, dopey dog.
I’m sure Monica and Rich spoiled him and Oscar while we were gone, so he owes me some overdue cuddles.
Thinking about my dog and my comfortable bed gives me the boost I need. Yes, I can do this.
I open my eyes and look out over the small airport parking lot.
Shit.
Sitting in the front row is a reminder that maybe I can’t do this. I grumble a swear under my breath and start walking over to Sutton’s SUV, the one that I still have the keys to because he still hasn’t said he needs it back.
When I open the door and sit in the driver seat, I’m overwhelmed with his scent.
Even after having his car for nearly two months, it still smells like him.
That woodsy, charred aroma—the one I now know comes from cooking over a wood-fired grill for so many nights—floods my mind with all the memories of him.
I drop my head to the steering wheel and close my eyes. I can see his blinding smile and popped dimples like he’s right in front of me. I can feel the warmth of his skin on mine as he holds me in his frustratingly muscular arms. I can hear that laugh the melts even my scowliest scowl away.
All of that is too much and I feel the tears I’ve managed to stave off until now start to well up again.
This isn’t going to be easy, but at least I have time before he’s back in town to try to prepare myself for whatever is coming next.
When Gloria’s comes into view, I’m hit with another wave of nostalgia.
Seeing that old farmhouse never fails to trigger memories of days spent with my family.
It’s not just the memories of my family anymore though.
When I get closer, I can practically feel Sutton’s presence and fingerprints all over it—all over me.
I do my best to ignore the knot of dread wound tightly in my stomach, thanking some higher power that it’s Sunday and the restaurant is already closed after their early brunch service.
Or at least, I thought. When I pull into the parking area, there’s a delivery van blocking two of the spots in front of the stairs to the studio.
I shake my head and pull into the spot next to it. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter to myself for no-one to hear, throwing the car into park.
Fortunately, I can just use the stairs that lead straight up to my apartment and avoid having to go into the restaurant and interact with anyone, because that’s the last thing I want right now. I don’t have the energy or patience to deal with that right now.
On that note, I begrudgingly pry myself out of the massaging seat in the SUV, which I still insist should be a standard feature on all cars from this day forward.
I grab my purse from the backseat and walk around the back of the van to get to the stairs that it’s blocking.
There are no company logos on it, leaving me wondering who I need to complain to about for their driver parking like a total prick.
That can wait for later though because I just want to get inside, let Felix out, and get back inside for some much needed rest.
Dragging my fingers along the van as I walk past it, I notice the subtle gray paint and blue trim.
I freeze.
Gray like a stormy sky and blue like Sutton’s eyes. My hand splays out over the cool metal. This isn’t a delivery van. This is a food truck.
My eyes drop to the license plate, but I already know whose food truck this is before I see the classic turquoise and yellow New Mexico license plate. This is Sutton’s food truck.
The one that two days ago, his younger brother interrupted our make out session in.
This is the same food truck that I saw just last night in his parents’ backyard.
It’s the one I stood next to when I heard him talking to his brother.
Now it’s here in Jackson, parked outside of Gloria’s, blocking my way to the stairs and to my much needed cozy bed.
My purse falls from my shoulder and I slowly walk around the van, joined only by the sound of my beating heart until I see the stairs.
It feels like my eyes are betraying me because he’s here.
Sutton is sitting on the bottom step with his elbows propped on his knees and his hands hanging clapped between them.
He looks up and swipes a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. He smiles softly, which does nothing to calm my nerves and jumbled mess of emotions.
“Hey,” he says, scooting to one side of the stair and patting the open spot next to him. “Can we talk?”
His presence throws me off and I have so many questions and things I want to say that I blurt out the first one without thinking. “How did you get here?”
He quirks a brow and chuckles. “I thought the food truck being here made that pretty obvious?”
I turn to look at it again, then back at him. “Did you really drive that here? That’s like what… ten hours?”
He sighs and nods once. “Yeah, after I realized you were at the airport, I drove here.”
I take a step toward him, standing just feet from him, while he still sits on the stairs.
He looks up at me and that’s when I can see bags under his eyes.
He really drove through the night in that ridiculous food truck to get here before me.
I know he eventually had to get the truck here, but the idea that he might have driven here just to see me feels like it means more.
I cling to that shred of hope because I don’t know if I’m ready to be let down and have all my fears brought into the light today.
“What about Grace and TJ?”
He shrugs. “When I told them I was coming back on my own, they did what they do best—go with the flow. They decided to stay and do some more exploring around New Mexico.”
“Right. Got it.” I stand there awkwardly, not knowing how to bridge this gap between us. Last night, I heard him tell his brother that he was moving and chasing his dream with a new restaurant, and they were selling this house.
Where do I even start? And will anything either of us have to say change things?
“So,” he starts, wringing his hands together. Our eyes meet and from the look in his, I know he’s thinking the same thing. “Is your stomach alright?”
I give him a puzzled look, wondering what he’s talking about. Then remember I told Grace that I wasn’t feeling well before I went back to the motel last night. “I’m fine. Well, I mean my stomach is a mess, but not from actually being sick.”
“I’m sorry.” He grimaces. “I was worried about you.”
Part of me feels bad that I didn’t stay and talk to him. I know how much he feels things, how deeply he cares, and I know he must have been worried.
He pats the spot on the stairs next to him again. “Please, will you sit and talk with me?”