Page 68 of Sidelined By Love

Ha!Friends. Right. Like that won’t tear my heart out every minute I’m in his presence.

At least pain is a reminder that I’m alive.

Keep telling yourself that, Zoe.

I see the moment that my words really hit him. The light in his eyes flickers and then vanishes as color drains from his face. He clearly wants to argue with me, but this isn’t one of our playful banter sessions. No one is going to win in this debate.

Instead, he drops his chin, his fist pressed against his chest. “I have to go. We leave for Seattle tomorrow.”

Twenty-one

Zoe

The fall morning air is getting colder. And I hate that I notice that this morning as Bronco putters around the front yard. Huddling under my blanket, I lower myself onto the front stoop, my gaze scanning the sidewalk. Again. I check both directions, though Grant has only ever come from the north.

But there’s no sign of his smooth jog or a canine companion.

Hasn’t been for the last thirty minutes.

I hug my blanket tighter and let out a tired sigh.

This is our time. If I had a calendar at the moment, I would mark it down. Shoot, I wouldn’t have to. Since that first morning that Bronco jumped on me, demanding a trip outside, there’s been an understanding. Grant would be here if he was in town. I would be, too.

I know his flight won’t leave until after noon today. But I’m still sitting here like a chump. Waiting on a guy who isn’t going to show up. Because I told him I was a waste of his time. Because I basically chased him out of Nan’s house with a broom.

Bronco seems to recognize my mood, waddling my way and plopping his chin on my knee. “I don’t suppose he’s coming, is he boy?”

With a woof, the dog flaps his brown ears.

“Me neither.”

Saggy brown eyes look up at me, all pity and concern.

“It’s not like that. I promise. It’s okay. He didn’t stand me up or anything.”

After all, I didn’t expect him to show up. Why would he after what I said last night? After what I did?

Letting my head fall into my hands, I let out a long sigh. This is my own fault. Iknowthat. Doesn’t make it hurt any less. Even if I was only trying to protect him.

And maybe to protect myself a little bit too.

I glance at my phone, as though I could have missed a call. An “I miss you already” text.

Nothing except a reminder that I’m shivering on a hard cement stoop at 5:33 on an October morning.

Apparently for no reason other than my own stupidity.

Pushing myself up, I nod toward the door. “Come on, Bronc.”

His pathetic gaze sweeps toward the sidewalk once more like he too wants to wait for our morning friend.

Friend. Right. That’s what I said to him last night.

That’s what Iliedto him last night.

I can keep telling myself that’s all I want, but it’s no better than the half-truths and twisted words that keep following me.

What I feel for Grant is so much more than friendship. It’s concern and care. It’s joy and hope. It’s fun and a future. It’s . . . it’s . . .

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