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The large lampposts I installed on the property lit the pathway to the car.
For the first few minutes we sat in silence, neither of us daring to speak.
Eventually, I turned on the radio, hoping some music would help alleviate some of the awkwardness of the drive.
I had kissed my best friend. I had wanted to do it for forever. But wanting to do something andactuallydoing something were totally different things.
I knew one thing with distinct clarity: I wanted to do it again.
I had gotten a taste of Whitney. One kiss would never be enough. What I only guessed at in high school, I sure as hell knew it now. That kiss confirmed everything.
I white-knuckled the steering wheel. While my eyes were drawn to Whitney, I kept them vigilantly focused on the road ahead, looking for obstructions, cars on the side of the road, the usual mess that accompanies high winds.
We were the only idiots daring to drive so soon after the all-clear signals. It looked like most people had taken the appropriate shelter.
The outside world was safe while the car was filled with words left unsaid.
When we got closer to civilization, I broke the silence.
“Should we stop by Savannah’s house and pick up some things for you?” I glanced over in the seat. Whitney had practically plastered her cheek on the passenger’s side window trying to keep as far from me as possible.
She shook her head. “No need. Savannah swung by already. I should be fine for a few days.”
I nodded. “That’s good. We’ll go home. I’ll cook us some real dinner and we can relax. It’s been a rough day.” I already felt the beginnings of an emotional hangover.
“Well, it wasn’t all rough,” Whitney said softly, eyebrow raised. Her eyes cut to mine briefly.
In that moment, with that small, mischievous smile, I couldn’t quite believe I stopped us from taking it further earlier. And even more impressed that she brought it up.
“No, in fact, some parts of today were quite enjoyable.” I brought my hand over to rub her leg, fascinated by the shiver she tried to hide.
We acknowledged the physical part of what we did back at the winery, but not the emotional part.
“You know, you can talk to me. We can go back to doing that now that I know the truth about why you left in the first place.”
Whitney continued to stare out the window. “Can we though?”
I reached for her chin, turning it to me, while one hand remained on the steering wheel.
“We can if wechooseto.” I kept looking between her and the road, then dropped my hand. “And I want you to choose to talk to me. None of this silent treatment. Let’s be honest with each other for Christ’s sake. Don’t you feel better now that you told me why you left?” I had seen how her body language had changed. She held onto this false notion for all these years, bottling up her anger. Finally telling me had been a relief to me as much as it had been to her. I was still frustrated as fuck, but this was at least a start.
And it was time for me to share a little more in return.
Chapter 22
Whitney
My fingers ghostedover my lips as I repeated the events of the past few hours over and over in my head.
The groove in between Jack’s eyes was as deep as the Grand Canyon. My leg bounced as I worried about what he was thinking.
“I wanted you too,” Jack admitted quietly. “Back then.”
It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the car. My shoulders shook and a lone tear trailed down my cheek. Jack reached over and brought my hand to his, threading our fingers together. Holding on for dear life. Like he was afraid I would disappear right out of the car.
There was so much more to say. To do. To make amends for the miscommunication that destroyed our friendship. Destroyed our chance for more.
Hearing him admit that he wanted me too—that waseverything. It also somehow made it all seem worse all these years apart.
