Page 85 of Infinite as They Come
“You’re back.” Her voice sounded stiff.
“Yeah, I am.” Mine sounded just as stiff.
Her eyes found the floor for a second as she pulled in a breath. “What’d you get up to today?”
I hated this. I hated lying to her, but the words spilled out of my mouth before I could control myself. “You know I was with my mom.” It hit me then that Mom had been at the motel. My brain was piled with problem after problem that I had completely forgotten about what I had said to Holly earlier, and I was left wondering if she had seen my mom. If they bumped into each other. If my little white lie had blown up in my face.
Brows raising, she clasped the towel to her a little tighter. “Right.”
“I’m sorry I had to cancel our plans.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“What did… What did you do today?” I asked.
Shrugging lazily, she moved over to one of the duffel bags on the floor. “Just hung out. Went for a walk. Did some work. That sorta stuff.”
My brows pulled together. If she and my mom talked, she was keeping that to herself. I had been expecting to hear it, for her to say the words:some fancy magazine in New York offered me a job, and I said no, but that didn’t come. Instead, she sat at the edge of the bed, away from me, her clothes—including one of my T-shirts with a few holes in it—in a neat little pile by her side.
“I’m sorry you were all on your own,” I said.
“It was fine. I got some writing done.”
“Can I read it later?”
She nodded. Uncomfortably, like she didn’t even want to be in the same room as me. “Yeah, I can show you.”
The question was right there on the tip of my tongue.Do you want to go back?Was she considering it? Being in that world again, the one she told meshe didn’t want forever? Had I been chasing a forever she didn’t even want?
But that was her life. Holly and that world made sense. Skyscrapers, Ivy League, old money. Still, we fit together so perfectly, but if that was what she wanted, what she had worked so damn hard for, then who was I stop her? I didn’t want to be the person who got in her way. Hell, I didn’t want anyone getting in the way of what she wanted, but it especially couldn’t be me.
She was there on the bed, just a few feet away, but I couldfeelthat distance. I could taste it. Bitter. Harsh. I wanted to pull her to me and hold her close, but that touchy feely Holly I loved so much wasn’t in the room.
“What’d you do today?” she asked. “I mean, how was your day with your mom?”
“It was good,” was the only thing I could say.
Her shoulders stiffened. That was all I could see with her back to me. Tight shoulders, her long hair all wet. “I’m so glad you guys got to spend the day together,” she said.
The words sounded dull, though. Like something was missing. That softness, that sweetness that was always there when she spoke. I kept waiting for her to say something else. I waited for anger. Her being pissed off that I was out all day again. I waited for confusion. Her wondering what I had been doing today, yesterday, every other day since our trip started. I waited for her to tell me that she didn’t want New York. That she hated that world, that she didn’t want to go back, but I just got more silence from her end.
I was pretty sure I deserved it.
Chapter 23
Holly
It was early. Too early. Me and Sawyer both barely slept last night. He turned, I tossed, and when we both got up in the morning, I asked Sawyer what had been on his mind, what had kept him up, and he gave me an ever informative “nothing” as his answer, which explained everything.
The pancakes sitting in front of me looked enticing enough, but I couldn’t bring myself to even poke one with my fork. Sawyer seemed to be in the same position. He sat across from me in the diner, his phone face down on the table with his palm just an inch or two away from it. His fingers kept curling and fidgeting, like it was a reflex to grab his phone as it sat there buzzing. Again. And again. And again. Part of me was curious to see how long he could go without looking at it.
“Aren’t you gonna eat?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “You haven’t touched your pancakes.”
His eyes lowered to my plate. “Neither have you.”
Humming, I started to cut into one, digging my fork into a piece. “I’m not that hungry.”
“You should eat.”
