The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(135)

He stays silent.

I put my hand on his knee. “We’ll work this shit out together . . . you and me.”

He looks down at my hand on his knee and slowly puts his hand over mine.

The first time we’ve touched.

The moment is tender and emotional and a turning point in both of our lives.

The lump in my throat is back, and he wipes his eyes, embarrassed.

“Anyway.” I stand. “You have to go and serve those fuckers at the bar while I work out how to get you out of the country.”

“How come you’re allowed to say fuck and I’m not?”

“Because I’m the parent and you’re the kid.”

His eyes search mine as my words echo between us . . .

I’m the parent and you’re the kid.

My heart free-falls from my chest, and in this moment, I know that life will never be the same.

For either of us.





Chapter 31


HAYDEN

The cry of a crow sounds in the distance, a peaceful song that sings to my soul.

There’s no mistaking that I belong in the country. My return has only cemented how much I love my lifestyle.

If only . . .

This rocking chair has become my best friend.

When things get too much, which is often, rocking keeps me sane. Just like a baby, it soothes me until I feel better. In slow motion, the gentle rays of gold disappear over the mountain as the sun sets.

Six weeks without him.

Without a kiss, a hug, a private joke . . . love.

And some days fly by while on others I feel like I can hardly breathe.

Barely clinging to life.

I dial the number, and I wait. The voice recording answers.

The mobile phone you have called is switched off.

“Where are you, Eddie?”

I’m getting worried. I haven’t heard from him for a couple of weeks now. We take turns calling each other, and it’s his turn . . . but he hasn’t called, and now he’s not answering.

It’s so unlike him. I can almost set my clock to the minute by how reliable his calls are.

I hope he’s okay.

He is. Stop overthinking it.

Darkness falls, and the warm breeze blows over me, whipping my hair about my face and bringing a million beautiful memories home. I smile at the thought of my beautiful Christopher. I don’t regret for a single moment falling in love with him, because now I know how it feels to be in heaven, when just for a while . . . he was mine.

I lean back in my rocking chair and pull the knit blanket over my legs as I relax into the night.

If only . . .

Ten days later

The plane touches down in Barcelona, and I watch the tarmac speed by through the window. I haven’t been able to reach Eddie, and I’m really beginning to worry. I know that surely there’s a reasonable excuse for why he’s not answering his phone, but I can’t relax until I’ve checked on him.

And besides, I needed an excuse to get out of town. The farm is making me feel claustrophobic.

Honestly, I don’t know where the fuck I’m supposed to be at the moment. Everywhere feels wrong, and I’m hoping distance will give me some clarity.

I haven’t started working again yet. Every time I go to commit to a position, something holds me back, and it’s ridiculous, because I really need to get my shit together. I’m twenty-six, and I don’t even have a job.

Ugh . . .

I’m trying to be kind to myself. Once I’m over this heartbreak, things will be different, I’m sure.

I go through the motions and get off the plane, collect my luggage, and catch an Uber to the hostel, and as the car pulls up to the curb, I look out through the window in wonder. A million beautiful memories come flooding in.

There it is . . .

The hostel where we met.

The driver gets out of the car, interrupting my thoughts, and I tentatively get out.

I wasn’t expecting this place to bring back so much emotion.

“Here you go, miss.” The driver puts my suitcase down on the sidewalk.

“Thank you.”

“Have a good night.”

“You too.”

He gets in and drives off, and I stand and stare at the hostel building. I don’t even know if I want to go in now. Is being here going to undo all the healing I’ve been going through? Too bad . . .

I need closure. Just go in.

I wheel my suitcase in and up to reception. It’s just before 10:00 p.m., and I know reception closes soon. The desk is unattended. “Hello,” I call.

I can hear music and laughter coming from the bar area, and I smile. Nothing has changed around here.

“Coming,” a female voice calls from the back office.

I wait patiently, and she eventually comes into view. “Sorry, I was on the phone.” She smiles. She’s new; I haven’t seen her before.

“That’s okay. I have a booking in the name Hayden Whitmore.”

“Sure.” She types into her computer. “Okay, you’re in a private room for a week?”

“Yes.”

She goes about scanning the keys and whatnot, and I look around at the familiar surroundings. There’s no denying that this place makes me feel better.

“Actually, can you extend that booking to two weeks if possible?” I ask.