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I lift my chin and look out toward the bank of windows across the way.
A stretch of desert landscape shimmers in the midday sun--tan and orange and red. Above all those warm colors, there’s a blue sky. And somewhere past this flat expanse, the mountains of Silver Creek spike up toward the clouds.
We’ll make the two-hour drive back to town in a couple of days.
I can’t get too caught up in this.
Whateverthisis.
It won’t do me any good.
In fact, it could cause a lot of pain.
I don’t want to be back in that lanky seventeen-year-old’s shoes… kicking myself for being such a fool. Now I know better, and I know Olivia Scott will never,everfall for a guy the likes of me.
“Whatever,” I say, shifting back onto my palms. “You had better things to do back then than go to some lame dance with a dumb, trouble-making country boy like me.”
“That’s not it at all,” she whispers.
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t really matter. It's all good.”
“Are you going to let me explain? I had a reason for saying no. I knew that—”
“Hey, it’s fine,” I say, cutting her off.I don’t want to talk about this.“It was a long time ago. No big deal.”
“Right.” She shifts, too, backing up from me a little.
We fall into a silence that feels loud, somehow. Finally, Olivia breaks the awkward lull. “So, I’m thinking something sort of crazy about the Trent situation. Want to hear it?”
“Fine.”
Anything is better than re-living one of the most humbling, demoralizing days of my life.
“So, Maggie wants Beryl at the wedding, right? But Trent’s being stubborn about it, not making the call. I’m thinking I’ll make the call and invite Beryl myself. That would fix everything.”
“It’s not up to you. It’s up to Trent.”
“I want to help. I want what’s best for him. So does Maggie. We’re running out of time. Maybe he’s scared, and if I make that first move for him, he’ll get over his fear, you know? He’ll be able to warp his head around the fact that Beryl will be there. Everyone will be happy.”
“Not a good idea.”
“Oh, what do you know? You’re as bad as Trent when it comes to emotional stuff. You run and hide just like he does.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Her chest rises and falls rapidly with each shallow breath she takes. She studies me like she’s deciding whether to speak.
Then she flings a hand up in a typical-Olivia gesture.
“Oh, what the heck. We’re at an Airing Grievances class, for crying out loud. Cole, you’re emotionally unavailable. You pull back whenever talk getsreal. You hide under that ball cap.”
She points to my hat.
I pull the brim side to side, making sure it’s in place.
She flicks her hand toward my coat, piled next to us. “And that big coat, or under a ton of work or ski gear, or fly-fishing stuff, or whatever. You never say what’s actually on your mind.”
“I don’t know what you’re going on about.” I do, though.
