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Useless. I’d planned on charging it on the drive out of town.
“Oh no. My phone, jacket, and purse are in the school library. I left them there when I decided to take a stroll down memory lane.”
“Okay.” I rock on my heels, stalling but knowing I have to mention him. “What about Lane? Surely he’ll go out to look for you when you don’t come home. Did he know you were stopping at the high school on the way home?”
Now it’s her turn to tense and grimace. “Lane? Uh, we split eighteen months ago.”
“Seriously?” My heart flips.
“Yes. He now lives in Prospect. He might even be engaged.” She sounds almost chirpy like she’s glad to be rid of him.
I get it. I’ll be glad to be rid of Dot. I just need to get out of town first.
Wren’s revelation sinks in. Lane’s gone to Prospect, a larger town forty minutes away, and the closest one to us. Doesn’t seem far enough, but good riddance. I never did like him. Pompous jerk. Especially for Wren.
Shit. Does this mean she’s single?
Timing. Even now it’s getting in our way.
“Who ended it?” A small part of me regrets asking the second the question is out of my mouth.
She tilts her head to one side in challenge. “Why? Does it matter?”
Deep down it does. I’m tongue-tied and unsure how to respond without sounding like someone drowning under the impossible weight of an unrequited crush.
Crush.
Was that all Wren ever was? And if so, why is this feeling so fierce and all-consuming? My heart palpitates in a way that makes me both giddy and distressed as if I’m not in control. Fuck if I know.
But…
I still yearn to know if she walked away or if Lane broke her heart. Like it matters. I won’t be here to have a chance with Wren Tyler.
If only.
Putting me out of my misery, she says, “I ended things. Lane and I were never right for each other. What about Dot?”
My stomach roils painfully, not anticipating the same question. I don’t want to get into the mess of my relationship with Dot.
“What about her?”
“Won’t she worry or try to find you when you don’t come home?”
Time to come clean or at least give her the bare minimum.
“Dot and I are over.”
“Since when? Isn’t the wedding only a few months away?” She flushes and averts her gaze as if caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
A bitterness lodges at the base of my throat. “Yeah, this latest date change made it January. You know what I find very interesting?” I arch a brow at her with a strong need to get off the topic of Dot. “How you know what’s going on in my life. You keeping tabs on me, Tyler?”
“Hardly. All of Winslow Grove knows about your upcoming nuptials and how the date keeps changing. What is this now, the fourth or fifth time?” She must see me bristle, as worry spreads across her features. “God, sorry, Oliver. Me and my big mouth.”
“It’s fine. Nothing you said isn’t true. Can we talk about something else? Like how we’re going to get out of here.” My words are abrupt, more so than I intend, and she flinches, visibly taken aback by my harsh tone.
“What about Coach Bell’s office?” She ambles that way without waiting for me as if seeking space. “He must have a phone.”
“Wren, shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—”
