My foot presses the accelerator to the floor, and I weave in and out of traffic, searching around as the sun sets for her Jeep. All I see are Wranglers or pickups.
Calling, I tap the steering wheel. It goes right to voicemail, and it means she either has me blocked or turned off her phone.
“No,” I say, calling her again. “No, no, no, no. You’re not gone, baby. You can’t be gone. I have to fix this.”
Hanging up when her voicemail beeps, I try at least twenty more times, and I drive for three hours. Every attempt I make, I get her voicemail, and her vehicle is nowhere in sight. She got away.
“She’s gone,” I say and pull off on an exit to turn back around. “She’s gone, and it’s all my fault. They’re right. I have no one to blame but myself.”
Where would she go? Back to Chicago? Atlanta? She could be just about anywhere, and I have no way to find her. I can’t fix this and make it up to her. I can’t tell her how wrong I was, and that I was stupid. It was all a ridiculous misunderstanding, and if I’d just asked her about that stupid countdown, she would have told me the same thing she told Mom.
I need to tell her this. I need to tell her how much I want her to come back home, and that nothing I said was the truth. It was just my pride and anger talking, but pride means nothing if she’s not beside me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rhett
One week. One week without Brynlee feels like twenty-seven years of hell. That night, I drove back to her house to pick up the bear and shirt. Every night, I lie in bed with them, both still smelling like her, as I stare at the picture of us from Halloween.
Calling her does nothing. It rings now, but she doesn’t answer. I’ve listened to her voicemail more times than anything else this past week, and I’m pretty sure it constitutes stalking.
If it rings, it means I’m not blocked, right? It would just go straight to voicemail?
I’ve never been in a situation like this before. Every night, as I try to sleep, I can’t figure out who that person was. The guy I became isn’t me. How did I allow myself to get so crazy that I pushed Brynlee away? Actually away. Running for the hills away.
The fact I did all of that in front of other people, not to mention making her cry, drives me insane. I can’t sleep because I’m not that guy. That’s not who I am. I’m the nice guy. I’ve hated it until now, but no one thinks that about me anymore. Not after I became the guy whoused tocare about people and how they feel but now upsets them for sport.
I walk into one of the largest stores in the mall about an hour from Copperwood to find Gemma’s Christmas present. Of course I drew her name. With the size of the family, anyone eighteen and older draws names for gifts because we’d all go broke buying for everyone otherwise.
I find a fluffy purple robe made of something softer than I’ve ever felt before, and I see matching slippers. She’s talked about needing a new robe for months now, and I smirk at how girly this all is. Everything she would have rebelled against even ten years ago.
She’s the only girl in her house, and she’s finally embraced her feminine side, no longer hating all things pink or purple. She’s also the one to introduce me togirl logic, which I still don’t understand other than it’s why her personality shifted. And why she justifies buying iced coffee every morning before work.
It’s more than I typically spend on presents, but I’m avoiding all family gatherings until Christmas. I can get away withclaiming to be on call and out fixing equipment until Christmas. Not after telling them last year I won’t be on call again this year.
I love my family, but the last thing I need right now is their judgment or opinions on what happened. It’s bad enough having to deal with what I have going on inside my own head, and their criticisms would just push me over the edge.
Leaving the store, I pass by a jewelry store, and I’m struck by how empty it is. Normally, this time of year has every one packed with men buying engagement rings or earrings for their women.Merry Christmas, now please pledge your life to me.
I walk inside for some inexplicable reason, and I see a young blonde behind the counter. For a moment, I think it could be Brynlee, but I see her in every thin blonde I see. Everywhere I go, I see her, and she’ll probably be everywhere I go for the rest of my life.
“Hi, there!” the salesgirl calls out cheerfully, and I almost turn around and leave. Almost. “Are you looking for anything special today?”
“No, not really,” I say, and I’m drawn to the various items sparkling in the glass cases.
If Brynlee and I hadn’t broken up, I was going to tell her after Thanksgiving that I loved her. I’d probably be here buying her a Christmas present. Hell, knowing she loved me back would probably have me in here with the other saps buying engagement rings.
“For a girl?”
I glance up to find her smiling knowingly at me, and I just nod. It’s like I’m in a trance of sorts, and her smile widens.
“Tell me about her. What’s she like?”
“She’s beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and she’s warm. Elegant and poised. What’s that popular word the girls are usin’ now? Oh, right, demure. Whatever that means, it’s probably her.”
Giggling, she walks to another case and pulls out a ring. I never said I was looking for a ring. I was thinking maybe a necklace or earrings to have on hand if we should ever bump into each other again. An apology gift.
I open my mouth to tell her I’m not in the market for a ring, but I stop short when I see it. “What’s this?”
