Bitter Sweet Heart (Lies, Hearts & Truths #2)(84)
Plows are out, trying to keep the roads clear, but the snow is falling fast, the black asphalt disappearing under a fresh blanket of white as soon as they pass. The sun has long since set. I can’t see more than a few feet in front of me and trying to locate my car in the parking lot proves to be a feat.
I end up hitting my panic button, setting off the car alarm so I can find it among the snow-covered cars. I’d be embarrassed about how loud it is, but there’s zero chance I’d be able to find my Prius otherwise. When I finally reach it, I deflate. The entire driver’s side is covered in a drift of snow that’s waist high. Add to that more than eight inches of snow blanketing the rest of my car, and I have no idea how I’m going to clean it off, let alone drive it out of here.
A vehicle comes down the aisle, moving slowly, headlights illuminating me and the road ahead. As it gets closer, I realize it’s a black truck. It slows and comes to a stop beside me, and the passenger window whirs down.
Maverick is alone behind the wheel. “You on your way home?”
“Eventually. When I’m done digging my car out.” I thumb over my shoulder.
“Might be better to do that in the morning. I have practice at six thirty. I can come a little early with a shovel. It’ll be a lot easier to manage when the snow has stopped. Hop in, and I’ll drive you home.”
I glance around the parking lot, which is close to empty. Anyone left on the sidewalks is rushing with their head tucked down, desperate to get out of the storm.
“No one is paying attention to us, Clover. Let me drive you home.”
I know I’m being paranoid, but I’m struggling to find the balance. “Okay.”
I climb up into the cab as Maverick rolls the window back up. It’s warm inside, and I breathe in the scent of his deodorant mixed with cologne and a faint hint of cinnamon and cloves. There’s an empty travel mug sitting in the center console, and it’s clear Bengal Spice has become Maverick’s new favorite tea as well.
I buckle my seat belt, remembering the last time I was in his truck. The drive home from Pearl Bay felt like a punishment, like I was losing something important. Despite Maverick offering to give me space upon our return, I hadn’t been inclined to take it. But with our schedules being what they are this semester, some of that space has been forced on us. Hockey takes up a lot of his time, so with the need for secrecy, we’ve only seen each other a few times since we returned. It was so much easier at the cabin . . .
Maverick shifts into gear and heads for the parking lot exit, driving cautiously. I slouch in my seat, feeling conspicuous despite the fact that the snow is falling so fast and heavy that he can’t see more than a few feet in front of him, so there’s no way anyone can see inside.
“You doing okay? Kind of feels like you’ve been in avoidance mode since I ran into you in the athletic facility the other day.” There’s no accusation in his tone, just concern. He takes his foot off the gas and touches the brake. The back end starts to fishtail, so he eases off until it evens out. Then he rolls to a stop in front of a sign that’s nearly completely covered with snow, except for a hint of red on the top left corner.
“I’m okay.” I don’t know how true that statement really is.
“Hold on.” He puts the truck in park and opens the door. He rushes around the hood, uses his forearm to clear off the stop sign, then returns to the driver’s seat and buckles himself back in. “Talk to me, Clover. What’s going on? It doesn’t do either of us any good if you’re holding stuff in.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “This is harder than I thought it was going to be.”
He glances over before he focuses on the road again. “Which part?”
“I barely ran into you on campus last semester, but I see you all the time there now. It’s just . . . conflicting.”
“Because I’m your dirty little secret?” he asks.
“You’re not a dirty secret, Maverick.”
He brakes when the light ahead turns yellow. When the truck is stopped, he extends his arm along the back of the seat, fingertips skimming the side of my neck. Despite the cold outside, his hand is warm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to come out the way it did, and that was a shitty thing to say. I used to see you all the time on campus outside of class last semester, but back then, you were trying not to see me. I know this is hard for you—harder than it is for me because of the position you’re in. I also know why it has to be this way, and I accept that. But if it’s too much for you, tell me, and I’ll back off.”
He turns down Hackett Street. It hasn’t been plowed yet, at least not recently, so the snow is several inches deep, and since it’s windy, there are drifts along our side that are deeper closer to the sidewalk. He stops in front of my house and puts the truck in park.
“That’s not what I want at all,” I tell him. “It’s more that every time I see you, I’m reminded of how easy it was when we were at the cabin and we didn’t have to worry about anything but us.”
“I’ll understand if the risk is too great for you.”
“That’s not what I mean. It feels unfair to you. When it’s you and me, I can forget about the rest of the world. But outside of our bubble . . .” I take in his beautiful face and consider what the next few months will be like if we keep seeing each other. How much harder it will be to let him go when the end of the semester comes. It’ll be messy and painful, but I’m not ready to walk away now. “What’s going to happen when you’re in another state and I move to Pearl Bay?”