I stare at the screen, finger hovering over ‘Send,’ I could help him. But at what cost?
Why can’t I bring myself to send it?
We are now inching closer to a town called Grand Island. We shouldn’t be too far by now, the only thing in our way is the storm that just decided to downpour.
At first, it’s just a light mist brushing across the windshield, but within minutes it turns into a curtain of gray. Thick, blinding, and relentless. Derek turns the wipers up to max and squints ahead, his jaw tightening.
“Shit,” he mutters. “Didn’t think it was supposed to hit this early.”
Derek swerves the car after an unexpected puddle tried to move us off course.
The wind howls hard enough to rock the Jeep, since this Jeep is one of those you can take the roof and doors off, you can hear the wind sneaking through the little opening where the zipper probably ends.
The road starts to vanish beneath pooling water. I grip the door handle out of instinct, my stomach starting to twist—not from the weather, but from something deeper and heavier.
What if this storm isn’t just a storm? What if it’s the universe saying turn around, go home, don’t do this again? What if I’m only chasing something that doesn’t want to be caught?
“What’s up?” Derek asks, eyes flicking toward me. He can always tell.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
But it’s not nothing, it’s the fact that I haven’t sent the money. It’s the fact that I don’t know what I’ll say to her when I see heragain. It’s the fact that I hurt her once, and who’s to say I won’t screw it all up again?
The tires hiss against the slick pavement, the storm raging harder now like it’s trying to swallow us whole. I lean my head against the window, heart thudding.
Maybe this is stupid. Maybe I should’ve just let her go.
But then I remember her laugh. Her hands in my hair. The way she looked at me like I was more than just a guy with baggage and mistakes. Like I was hers.
And I know, I know, that I’d drive through a thousand damn storms if it meant getting her back.
41
Genevieve
Well, I don’t know how Lana did it, but she managed to get me to class today. She deserves some sort of award for that. This morning she made sure I was here on time from the airport and was still going to class. She even had my purse all packed and ready for me with my supplies, then walked with me to class because our classes happened to be in the same building. I went this whole semester without knowing that.
I felt like such an idiot.
I went to my first two classes this morning, which is a new record for me and then ate lunch with Lana in the union. We ate Chick-fil-A salads, with the avocado lime ranch dressing of course, and I told her about my morning and she told me about hers.
Afterwards, we parted ways again where she went to her third class and I went to the library killing time, waiting for my last class of the day.
I'm here for about an hour and a half catching up on work. Thankfully I did a lot while I was away. Turns out Aspen is really good at math.
Aspen.
Forgiving my dad didn’t just open a door to the past, it made space for the future. For second chances, maybe even for Aspen. Now that I’ve forgiven my dad I think I can hear him out. I just need to give myself time to focus on school and figure out what I would even say to him.
When I open my laptop I didn’t know where to start at first, but I just did the most I could. Lucky for me I never failed a test I took so my grades are bad just because of the work I haven’t turned in, but as I turn each assignment in I see my grade rise up a few percentages.
Each submission feels like reclaiming a little piece of myself. Like I was rewriting my own comeback story, one late assignment at a time.
I’m taking baby steps, but maybe this is manageable. As much as I hate it.
I close the lid to my laptop and stuff it in my bag. I refuse to wear a backpack and ruin my outfit so I just have a big tote purse I use as my school bag. I exit the library and walk over to class. The weather is getting colder by the day so I zip up my leather jacket and thank myself for wearing pants today. My five minute walk to Burnette Hall was cold, but bearable. I take a seat at the middle front of the class and wait for Professor O’Gwen to begin class. I just stare at her as she picks at something green in her teeth with a bobby pin. What a delightful sight to see. I’m just glad I’m not that bobby pin.
Once she gets her leftover food unstuck from her teeth, she stands up to begin class. She starts with writing a problem on the chalkboard, I swear she’s one of the only professors left at this school who still uses a chalk board, and waits for us all to copy down the equation and try to solve it for ourselves. I look around the room and everyone except two people seem to be just as confused as I am.
