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“It doesn’t appear so.” He throws me a crooked smile before firing the truck to life. The engine rumbles loudly, vibrating the floorboard against my feet.
It momentarily takes me back to when I was younger. How I would climb in this truck and roll the window down, eager to feel the warm summer air on my face as me and my father made our way into town. I used to love our little day trips.
My dad would always stop and get us ice cream when we finished getting whatever we were there for. He’d make me finish it before we pulled into the driveway and I always had to promise I wouldn’t tell any of the boys. Those drives are some of my fondest memories. The carefree summer days when I didn’t want anything but what was right in front of me.
The nearly ten mile ride to the lake is quiet. I keep looking at Thad out of the corner of my eye, wishing like hell I knew what he was thinking. What he was feeling. If I’m driving him as crazy as he’s driving me.
It isn’t until we’re following the winding, wooded path down to the water that Thad finally speaks.
“So Brylan?” He phrases it as a question, keeping his gaze locked on the road.
“What about him?” I ask when he says nothing else.
“You two serious?” His hands tighten around the steering wheel and I can’t help but stare at the way his forearms flex as he does.
“We were,” I confirm, rethinking my answer. “I mean, as serious as you can be with someone when you know you’re leaving.” I shrug.
“Did you love him?”
“I did, but clearly not enough.”
“Why do you say that?” He chances a quick glance in my direction before his gaze goes forward again.
“Because I left. And as much as it hurt to hurt him, it didn’t hurt me to leave. What Brylan and I had was fun but it was never going to last.”
“Because you were leaving.”
“Exactly. He was never going to come with me, not that I really wanted him to. And I was never going to stay.”
“What about now?”
“What about now?” I repeat his question back to him.
“You’re going to his party.”
“And?” I look at him like he has five heads.
“I don’t know. I mean, he is your high school boyfriend who’s clearly still into you and has bent over backward to make something of himself in the hopes of winning you back.”
“Where are you getting your information because I’m pretty certain it’s misguided?”
“From Ben. Who’s getting it from Brylan’s sister.”
“Wait. Beth told Ben that Brylan...”
“Wants you back,” he finishes my sentence. “Why do you think he’s going to law school?”
“Because he wants to be a lawyer,” I state what I feel is pretty obvious.
“Did he ever strike you as that type when you were together?”
“Not really,” I answer truthfully. “But people change and he always said he was going to do it.”
“Yeah, especially when they’re trying to prove to the girl they love that they’re enough.”
“That’s not what he’s doing.” I refuse to believe his life decisions have anything to do with me. “Besides, becoming some fancy lawyer isn’t going to win me back. We’re too different. We always have been.”
“You say that now. The power of money has more pull than most people realize. He becomes an attorney and starts raking in the money, you won’t be able to resist.” The way he says it feels almost offensive but I refuse to let him rile me.
