Page 57 of Homesick

I wince at the formal use of my first name. I think back to the beginning of the summer when I felt the same way about him using my last name. So much has changed in the past couple of weeks and I’m ready to get off this roller coaster ride.

“I offered to drive multiple times, but you told me no every time,” I say, crossing my arms in defeat.

“That’s because I want to get there in one piece.”

I think he may be cracking a joke after the last three hours pure awkwardness, but just when I think his lips might tip up in a smile they return to their uniform straight line.

“Ugh, come on. Just let me play a different station for a little bit. We’re almost there.”

“Not going to happen. I’m not listening to techno rap or whatever weird shit you listen to. Take a nap or something.”

What the hell was techno rap? I huff at his stubbornness and turn my body toward the window of the truck. It has been nothing but plain green fields for most of the trip. I thought we lived in the middle of nowhere, but this was a whole other level.

After a few minutes of a banjo solo, I officially crack. I need a breather, or I’m going to throw myself out of this moving vehicle.

“I need to pee.”

“We’re not making any more stops, Wren. We’ll be there in less than an hour. You can hold it.”

A five-minute pit stop isn’t going to hurt, I think as I face the window again.

“It’s an emergency,” I beg, giving it another shot.

Blake lets out a long and dramatic sigh before rerouting his phone’s GPS to the nearest gas station. I hide my smile and quietly celebrate my mini victory.

Ten minutes later, we pull into a small gas station in the middle of nowhere. I hop out of the passenger seat as soon as Blake puts the truck into park. I head to the back of the trailer and pat the head of one of the bulls we’re taking to auction before stalking off to find a bathroom. I don’t even need to go; I just need a minute away from Blake.

I wasn’t sure what to expect on this trip, but I didn’t picture Blake and I sitting in silence for so long. We always found something to talk about, even when I wanted nothing to do with him. The silence was deafening.

An annoying ring sounds off when I push the rusty glass door open. I walk in and scan the area until I see a restroom symbol. As I’m walking over, my eyes snag on the middle-aged woman behind the counter. She’s currently too entranced in the work of E. L. James to notice me stalking through her store.

Once I make it safely to the restroom, I splash some cold water on my face and try to ignore the funky smell coming out of the stall with an out-of-order sign taped on it.

I look at my reflection in the mirror and the first thing I can see are the bags currently painted on my face. Breaking things off with Blake had affected me more than I let on. I’m exhausted from constantly stopping myself from picking up the phone and calling him. I had gotten a taste of what it was like to have Blake in my life again and it was like a drug I didn’t want to give up.

After a few more minutes of deep breaths followed by gagging due to the wretched smell, I make my way back to the truck. When I walk past the counter, I notice a familiar backside checking out. I decide to wait by the door until he’s done—knowing he’s much too responsible to keep the truck unlocked in a strange area.

I watch Blake talk to the cashier and I notice the smile that sits on her face while talking to my travel companion. Blake has always been good at charming strangers. It’s something that I used to love about him. But that was when he was mine to love.

Now I find it irritating how long he hovers. The more she smiles, the more my skin crawls. Charm comes naturally to a guy like Blake, but I’m selfish and want all his charm to myself. It’s not mine to want, though.

I stand up straight as soon as I notice him turning. His eyes brighten when he notices me standing by the door, but that brightness soon dulls when the mask goes back on.

“You could’ve waited at the truck,” he says before shuffling past me.

I feel my heart sink as I assume my character of the heartbroken ex who fucked up her second chance.

I answer his irritated statement with silence until we both get in the truck. Once we’re both seated, he hands me a paper bag and I scan the contents. I pause for a moment when I see a bag of peanut M&M’s. I pull the crinkled yellow bag from the pile and turn to ask Blake if I can have some.

Before I can ask, he says, “those are for you. I remembered they were your favorite when we were kids.”

I stare at him from the passenger side. My heart slowly deflates inside my chest, and I want to scream from the inside out. I am very much in love with the man sitting next to me and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. He’s leaving and I’m not stopping him.

“Yeah, I still like them. Thank you.”

As I settle back into my seat, I turn away from Blake so he can’t see the tears threatening to bubble up at any moment.

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