“I should go,” I say after a few minutes tick by and no one’s talking. I grab my tote and sling it over my shoulder. “Where’s my suitcase?”
“In the trunk,” Rhett mutters as he leans over and hits the button to open it.
Without a word, I climb out of the car and go to the back, opening the trunk and pulling my ratty old suitcase out. Rhett’s suddenly there too, trying to take the suitcase away from me, but I jerk the handle out of his hold.
“There’s no way I’m going to leave you here,” he starts, but I hold up my hand, silencing him.
“Yes, you are. I don’t need a ride from you.”
“Jens. You’re being ridiculous.” He thrusts his fingers through his dark hair, messing it up. God, he’s so good-looking. I can admit it now. He’s gorgeous. And I like him. Though I shouldn’t. He’d only disappoint me in the end.
Looks like I already disappointed him.
“Let me take you wherever you need to go.” He hesitates, then seems to go for it. “I wanted to bring you back to my house. You can stay there for as long as you want. I have a guest bed—”
I cut him off. “No.” I shake my head. Press my lips together.
&nb
sp; Another ragged sigh leaves him, and this time he does get hold of my suitcase, jerking the handle away from me and then tossing it back into the trunk. “Get in the car,” he says quietly.
“Rhett—”
“Get in the goddamn car.” He slams the trunk shut and stalks around the side of the car, climbing back into the driver’s seat. I follow his lead, slipping into the passenger side and closing the door behind me.
“Take me to the bus station,” I tell him quietly.
“Jensen…” He sighs my name, the frustration and longing so obvious in his voice. I’m making him crazy. And I would continue to make him crazy if I stuck around.
Not in a good way either.
“Please, Rhett.” I pause, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “I can’t stay here. I just…I can’t.”
Without another word, he puts the car in reverse and backs out of the parking spot. We’re silent for the entire drive, and I can’t even look at him. He hates me. I can feel the anger emanating from him in palpable waves, and I wrap my arms around myself, trying to ward off the sudden chill in the air. His stony silence is agonizing. I’d rather deal with him angry and ranting, calling me names and getting physical with me.
But his total withdrawal, the stiff way he holds himself, how it’s like he’s become so disinterested in me…it’s painful.
Rhett pulls into the bus depot and I’m exiting the car the second he puts it into park. He helps me get my suitcase and hands the heavy tote bag over to me, which I grab and sling over my shoulder.
“Unblock my number and let me know you made it home okay,” he demands.
“Sure.” I shrug. Like I’m really going to text him.
“You’re lying again,” he says flatly.
I sigh and shake my head. “I think it’s probably best if we cut off all communication. Don’t you?”
He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, glaring at me. It’s almost like he’s in shock, and he doesn’t know how to feel about me, or how to react. I’ve confused the hell out of him with my lies and confessions, and I bet he’s wondering why he was interested in me in the first place. Worse, he’s probably full of regret over us having sex, and him bringing me those flowers…
The flowers. Where are they? Not that I can take them with me on the bus, but what did he do with them? Are they still in his car? I wish he would’ve given them to me a few days ago. I wish I could’ve enjoyed them longer. At the very least, I wish I took a photo of them so I could keep it on my phone forever.
But wishes are for fools, and while yes, I can admit I’ve been a giant fool lately, I don’t have time for wishes or hopes or dreams. That’s all a bunch of bullshit. I need to move on.
I need to leave this town—and Rhett—and never come back.
“I should go.” I hitch the tote bag’s strap up higher on my shoulder. “I need to go buy my bus ticket.”
“Yeah. Good luck.” He turns and walks toward his car, and this time, I let him go. I watch his retreating back, my gaze fixed on him as he climbs into the car, starts it, and pulls away from the curb.