Twelve Seconds to Forever #3
“I can’t stay here with you,” she blurts, still hesitating in the doorway. “We aren’t friends. Not anymore. So you don’t get to care or swoop in and save me.”
Ouch. I deserve that, but it still stings.
“You’re not doing it for me. You’re doing it for Jess. She’d never forgive me if I let you out in this.”
She acquiesces, and I pull her back inside and shut the door.
“But, Lainey? I’m always going to care.”
CHAPTER THREE LAINEY
Outside, the snow continues to come down, blanketing everything in a sheet of white. I let the curtain fall into place and chew on my thumbnail as I run through scenarios to get out of here.
“Would you stop pacing? You’re making me nervous.”
I don’t bother responding. I can’t sit still. If I sit still, I’m going to think way too hard about this situation and the things he’s said. And how I’m stuck in this small cabin with the only guy I’ve ever really loved, who kissed me three years ago and then said it was a mistake.
I texted Jess to let her know I found Alex at the cabin and that I was going to stay with him until the snow stopped. Her reply was a screaming face emoji. Which, coincidentally, is exactly how I feel.
“Lainey.” Alex’s voice is part command and part plea.
I stop and look at him. He’s no longer in a towel, thankfully, but unfortunately the T-shirt and sweatpants don’t hide his handsome face. Those gray eyes like storm clouds and his stubble-covered jaw. That’s new—the stubble. It’s a good look for him.
Alex’s sitting on the couch, looking as comfortable in this situation as out on the football field. Meanwhile I’m a mess.
I grab a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and take it to him. I hold it out and he stares at me like he’s going to resist.
“Are you going to sit?” he asks.
There’s absolutely no way I’m sitting on the couch with him. It’s barely big enough for three people, and Alex takes up half of that with his broad frame and long legs.
I drop the makeshift ice pack in his lap, and he grunts. Then I head to the dining room table, grab a chair, and bring it into the living area. I sit as far away as I can. Which, unfortunately, is still too close to him.
Alex adjusts until his left leg is elevated on the coffee table in front of him and he holds the peas in place.
He smirks. “You look like you’re five seconds from running out into the snow.”
I hum my agreement. I would if I’d worn better shoes.
“How’ve you been?” he asks.
I arch a brow. We haven’t spoken in years, and he wants to make small talk?
“C’mon, time will pass faster if we don’t sit in silence,” he adds.
“Great,” I deadpan. “I’ve been great.”
He nods slowly, studying me. When it’s clear I’m not going to reciprocate, he chuckles softly. “This is where you ask me how I’ve been,” he whispers like he’s helping me out.
I roll my eyes. “Everyone knows how you are. You’re Alex Carrington. Dating celebrities, splashed across headlines, winning awards.”
Both dark brows lift, and he points toward his injured leg.
A pang of guilt hits me. “That does suck. I’m sorry. Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll heal.”
“But?”
“We still lost.” His jaw clenches.
I forgot how personally he takes each loss, as if he himself is responsible. I guess at least that hasn’t changed about him.
“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell your family.” I look pointedly at his injured leg.
He tries to shrug it off and sighs. “Jess has always been supportive of me and my career, but the last couple years, when I’ve come back for family events, I don’t know, it just feels like…”
“All the attention is on you instead?” I ask, suddenly getting a very clear picture of it. I’ve heard about his visits. The whole town talks about it every single time. Even my second graders.
He nods.
It’s hard to wrap my head around this version of Alex, who’s just like the guy I used to know. But he isn’t. He can’t be. This Alex broke my heart.
The wind blows against the cabin windows, and a quick glance confirms what I already know—it’s still snowing. I won’t be leaving anytime soon.
I clear my throat. “Where is your girlfriend?”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“I thought you were dating the jewelry designer,” I say as casually as possible, like I have not consumed every photo and article about his dating life. “What’s her name, Brenda? Bethany?”
“Brianna. And she’s just a friend.”
I snort.
“It isn’t like that,” he insists, squirming a little.
“Mm-hmm.” I nod, grinning. I don’t know why he’s so uncomfortable admitting it.
“I swear.”
The more he protests, the less I believe him.
He sighs. “She’s a friend of a friend. I contacted her to help Brad out with the rings.”
My smile falls. “What?”
He winces and presses the bag of peas into his thigh.
“She’s a great designer, and Brad wanted to do something special for Jess. It was all his idea. I just put him in contact.” He’s quiet for a beat then follows it up with a quiet plea. “Please don’t mention it to Jess.”
“I won’t. I just…” I get back to my feet.
I need a distraction. In the kitchen, I open cupboards until I find a bottle of Malibu that’s likely been here since the last time Alex or Jess threw a party.
It’s dusty but unopened. In another cabinet I find an assortment of old mugs.
I recognize some of them, but there’s a noticeable addition of Denver mugs.
I can picture Jess and Alex’s dad buying these.
Mr. and Mrs. Carrington are the loud, supportive kind of parents.
I was always a little jealous of that. My dad was never in the picture, and my mom spent so much time working that her support was much quieter.
I grab a Garfield mug and fill it with Malibu.
“Want any?” I ask without looking back at Alex.
“No thanks,” he answers from the couch.
I cap the bottle and take my mug back to the living room.
I eye the chair. I swear it’s moved a foot closer to Alex than it was before, but he’s still in the same position.
My skin pricks under his gaze as I take my seat.
The alcohol is strong, with a hint of sweet coconut. I cough as soon as I swallow it down.
Alex smirks. “Good?”
“Great.” My voice is hoarse.
He laughs. “I forgot how stubborn you are.”
“Me?” I scoff. “You’re one to talk.”
We’re smiling at each other when I remember I’m still mad at him. I clear my throat and take another, much smaller sip.
“If you’re not dating the jewelry designer, then which gorgeous, famous woman are you seeing these days?” I ask. I should let it go, but I want him to know that I don’t care. Even if my stomach is currently working itself into knots. I set the Malibu down on the end table. It isn’t helping.
“I’m not dating anyone. Famous or not.”
“How come?” I stand again, needing to put distance between us.
I walk to the far wall in front of the low-burning fire.
On the mantel are pictures of Alex and Jess from preschool through college during the holidays, along with a few leftover decorations from Christmas. I pick up a snow globe and shake it.
“Lots of reasons.”
I roll my eyes where he can’t see, then set the globe back on the mantel. “Hard to pick just one?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Well, if you didn’t bring a plus-one, then I’m sure you’ll have your pick of single women at the wedding.”
He huffs a small, quiet laugh. “My pick, huh?”
I shrug and go to the bookcase next. Someone strung garland with lights along the top, and a copy of A Christmas Carol faces out.
“Even you?”
My heart stutters and my stomach clenches. I don’t turn around, though I’m curious if he’s got one of those cocky grins aimed at me. “Don’t joke around.”
“I’m not joking. If I can have my pick, then I choose you.”
“Ha. Ha,” I mock in a dry, sarcastic tone.
“Lainey.” The way he says my name is soft and intimate, and I make the mistake of looking at him.
His gray eyes are filled with sincerity.
“I never even considered bringing a date. Not when I knew my favorite person was going to be there. Then imagine my surprise when she shows up on my doorstep the night before.”
I whirl around so fast I nearly make myself dizzy. “But we haven’t talked in years.”
“Doesn’t mean I stopped thinking about you,” he confesses.
“You kissed me and said it was a mistake.”
His face scrunches up. “I’m sorry about that.” He gets to his feet and walks over to me.
If I weren’t aware of his injury, I might not even be able to tell he’s favoring the left side.
“I messed up, but not a single day has gone by where I didn’t think about you.”
“You have a funny way of showing it.”
“I wasn’t sure you wanted to hear from me. Or that if I saw you again, I’d be able to walk away.”
“I don’t get you.”
“Yes, you do.” He reaches up and cups my face with one hand. His thumb glides along my skin slowly.
I shake my head. Insistent.
“I was six months away from the draft.”
“And you didn’t want to be tied down, yadda yadda.” I try to pull away, but he circles one arm around my waist.
His gaze is hard. “No. Fuck no.”
“Then why?” I swore I’d never ask him, but maybe if I finally get the answers, I can move on.
“I didn’t want to start something when I didn’t know where I was going or if and when I’d be able to see you.
I’ve always known that if we crossed that line, it’d be endgame for me, and you still had a year left of college and big dreams of your own to chase.
I couldn’t ask you to drop everything and be with me.
I wasn’t even sure I’d make it at that point, and then what? ” He shakes his head.
A new kind of frustration seeps into me, and tears pool in my eyes. “You could have given me a choice. You made me think that you wanted nothing to do with me.” I’m so mad I want to pound my fists on his stupid, broad chest.
“You would have tried to change my mind, and I would have caved. And maybe it all would have worked out, or maybe in six months or a year you would have been miserable. I couldn’t take that chance.”
“You still could have said something.” A tear betrays me by leaking from the corner of my right eye.