“The same trajectory… And if they’re not? If I don’t fit into your plans, you want to break up?” Disbelief coated my words, a strange sinking feeling going through me.
“No, no, Dayna. I love you, babe.” He kissed me. “But maybe we want different things, after all.”
“And you’ve decided that after being here for what, a couple of days?” Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. “That isn’t fair, and you know it. My life here is… complicated.”
“Which is why I think some time apart will be good.”
“This is really how you want to leave things? You head to Toledo tomorrow.”
He kissed my forehead. “College is over, babe. It’s time to go out into the real world and live.”
His words felt like another dig. Did he think that by coming back home, I was still hiding?
I wasn’t.
Coming back here wasn’t easy. Not when everywhere I looked, I was reminded of Dalton. But I had ghosts here. Ghosts I needed to lay to rest. I thought Josh understood that.
I thought he got it.
“Fine, if that’s what you want,” I said, confused at how we’d gone from spending an amazing day exploring together to… tothis.
“It’ll be a good thing, you’ll see.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, but I wasn’t about to beg either.
“Do you still want to go to dinner?” I asked flatly. “We have a reservation with my parents.”
At my favorite seafood restaurant overlooking the lake.
“Of course, I do. It’s our last night together for a while. I want it to be special.”
I stared at him, confusion trickling through me.
Special.
He sure could have fooled me.
* * *
“Thank you for a lovely evening, Mr. and Mrs. Benson,” Josh said as we made our way into the house.
It was strange how genuine his words seemed after our conversation earlier. Tonight, he’d sat with my parents, listening to their stories of small-town living, and smiled and nodded in all the right places. But I couldn’t unhear his words.Maybe some space will be a good thing.Because his actions tonight—his hand clasped around mine, toying with the ends of my hair—hadn’t suggested space. Far from it.
“You won’t get a better shrimp than Pearls,” Dad said, pulling me back into the moment.
“Oh, I don’t know about that. My mom makes a mean shrimp scampi.”
“She does? A woman after my own heart.”
“Hey, mister.” Mom slapped Dad’s chest.
“Your scampi is good too, Judy.” Their laughter filled the hall. “Well, it’s late. So we’ll say good night. Sorry we won’t be around to see you off in the morning, Josh.” Dad held out his hand. “But it’s been really nice meeting you, son.”
“You too, sir—”
“Derek, call me Derek. Hopefully, we’ll be seeing you again soon.” Dad glanced between the two of us, and my stomach dipped.
“I sure hope so.”