Page 54 of Where Roads Lead

I grabbed them a few at a time, placing them back into a stack, when my hand hovered over one faded image that seemed to taunt me from its worn edges.

“That was our wedding day,” Roger said, noticing the way I lingered over the sight of it. “And what a happy day it was.”

I stared at it, finger tracing over every detail. The veil. The crowd of friends and family. The couple making their descent down the aisle.

I hadn’t made it that far. Got pretty damn close though, but like most things in my life, I fell just an inch short of actually achieving what I’d set out to.

Feeling stupid, I rose to my feet, handing it over to him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I felt Will staring at me, and I knew I’d just made a fool of myself in front of him.

What type of girl lost it at the sight of a stranger’s wedding photo? It was ridiculous. And only proved what he probably already thought—that I was some type of mentally unstable whack job that he somehow got saddled with.

But I was grateful to him in that moment for not calling attention to it. I wasn’t sure I could handle him poking at a wound that still felt far too fresh.

He opened the door, gesturing for me to go first while picking the heater up with his other hand.

I turned and waved goodbye to Roger, and sweet old lonely man that he was, he watched us our entire walk to the truck.

Will tossed the space heater into the truck in one swift motion. I fixed him with a reprimanding glare as I climbed into the passenger seat.

“Be careful with that,” I tried to tease, but my heart wasn’t in it. “Otherwise, you’ll be stuck driving me to some other old man’s house. And next time, we might not meet someone as charming as Roger.”

Will huffed out a silent laugh as he slid into the driver’s side. I was all too aware of the lack of space that an old-school pickup truck forced upon its passengers.

His hands moved to turn the keys into the ignition, but he looked over at me.

At first, I thought he was going to give me an earful about how I’d wasted so much of his time, but he surprised me.

With hazel eyes locked on mine, he almost seemed to examine me, searching for something that I wasn’t sure I wanted him to find.

“You okay?” he asked, staring at me in what I would’ve sworn was concern if it had been anyone else wearing the expression.

But because it was Will Hughes, I chalked it up to indigestion. Or maybe just an allergic reaction to too much time around people.

Either way, he probably didn’t really care.

“I’m fine,” I told him, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

“Are you sure? Because you seem—”

“You know me, Will,” I told him cheekily, even though he really didn’t and probably never would. “I’m always happy.”

“Elsie—” he protested, but I cut him off.

“I need to get back home,” I muttered. “Work on my writing.”

He didn’t say anything, just continued to stare, waiting for answers that I had no plan on providing.

He was perceptive, I’d give him that. But he didn’t need to feel like he had to console me. He’d done plenty for me, and I wasn’t going to weigh anyone down with my emotional baggage. Especially someone like him, who clearly didn’t want to be bothered by the inconvenience of human emotion.

After a minute of silence, he exhaled in defeat and started the engine.

I manually rolled down the window—just another sign of how drastically outdated his vehicle was—and sucked in a breath of cold air, letting it bring me back to the present moment.

With my head resting against the window ledge, I watched the drizzle of rainfall on the back roads of Massachusetts. And if a tear or two escaped somewhere along the way, well, then I could just pretend it was rain.

Chapter Fifteen