For the first time in my life, my father understands he can’t force me back into place.
And judging by the silence in the room—everyone else understands it too.
40
AVERY
The request comes through in the afternoon.
VIP pickup. Cedar Ridge Airport. Terminal A arrival. Passenger listed asunassigned.
No name. No details. Just a destination and a time stamp.
It’s not unusual. Not for this service. The Season has begun, somewhat officially, and while I’m exhausted from the uptick in business at the coffee shop, they haven’t been able to fill the rideshare position in town.
But the closer I get, the tighter something in my chest becomes.
Terminal A is already busy when I pull up. Travelers spill out in waves, rolling suitcases and tired faces and reunions happening in the middle of the sidewalk like the world is constantly arriving and leaving at the same time.
I park where I’m supposed to and open the app again.
No name, justArrived.
I wait in the car for a moment, knowing I’ll be sent on my way if the client doesn’t arrive within two to three minutes of me parking here.
There’s a crowd of people all clumped together with their luggage and phones.
Then I hear a tap on the passenger window. The man leans down, and my breath catches as I see Max.
He looks just as tousled as he did the first time I picked him up on the highway.
My breath catches so sharply as I see Max.
It makes no sense. He’s supposed to be in New York with his future wife.
I roll down the window, doing my best to stay calm when all I want to do is interrogate him for hours.
“Avery,” he says, relieved.
“I thought you were in New York,” I say before I can stop myself.
“I was,” he says quietly. “I’m not anymore.”
That should feel like an answer.
It doesn’t.
I get out of the car, opening the trunk so he can put his bag inside. Instead of one suitcase, he’s brought three.
It takes several attempts to get them all loaded, one of them squished in the backseat. I feel like I’m on autopilot and don’t know what to do.
“Are you—are you engaged?” I ask, after sliding into the driver’s seat.
Max focuses on me before saying, “No.”
I scowl at him, wishing I wasn’t trying to pull answers out of him. Why do I care? I should just complete the ride and move on.
There’s a car directly in front of me, and I have to turn sharply to miss it as I inch back out to the main road. My hands lightly shake, trying to get some of the anxious energy out.
