Well Played (Well Met #2)(82)

April whistled. “When did you get such a potty mouth?” But when I looked over at her, she was smiling. Why was she smiling?

“That doesn’t change the fact that it’s too late.” I picked up my phone. It was still displaying Daniel’s goodbye message, and I traced his name with my fingernail.

“Nah.” Mitch drained the rest of his beer. “They’re over at the Maryland Ren Fest, right? That’s like an hour away, maybe two. They’re not going anywhere for a while.”

“No, but Daniel is.” April’s eyes went wide as she looked at me, and I knew exactly what she was talking about.

“Oh, no!” I threw my phone into my purse. “I have to go!” I started to scoot out of the booth but Mitch blocked my progress like a brick wall.

“Go where?” Mitch looked from April to me in confusion, not getting the hint at all.

I punched him on the arm. “Scoot over, I need to get out!”

“Hey, cut it out! What’s the hurry?” He looked at me as though I’d lost my mind. And maybe I had. I didn’t care.

“I have to get over there. He’s gonna leave, and I don’t know where he’ll be after that.” Had he even told me the Kilts’ schedule after this next gig? My mind was blank with panic.

“What the . . .” Mitch stood up so I could scoot out behind him. “I just said they’re gonna be there for a while.”

“But Daniel won’t be,” April said. “He’s only staying the first weekend. He said so, in the email.” She squinted up at me. “You know, you could send him an email. Let him know you’re coming up, maybe?”

“Okay. Yes. You’re right.” I fished in my bag for my phone before I remembered. “He doesn’t check his email during Faire weekends.” I let my head fall back on my neck with a groan. “He was only doing that because I was emailing him, and . . .”

“. . . And he doesn’t think you’re emailing him anymore.” April finished the sentence with a sigh. “You could text him, then. You have his number?”

My only answer was another groan. I was so sick of my phone. I was sick of all of it: of emails, of social media, of texts. Of words on screens. I wanted tangible reality. I wanted Daniel’s smile, warming me from the inside out. I wanted the feel of his skin against mine. The way he threaded our fingers together when he held my hand. I needed him. Craved him.

Something must have shown on my face, because April nodded. “Okay.” She looked around. “Where the hell is our waitress? We need to pay and get out of here.”

She slid out of the booth to find the waitress, but Mitch was still watching me. “The first weekend . . .” Understanding dawned on his face. “That’s right now.”

“And I’ve already blown Saturday, so that just leaves tomorrow!” Panic rose again in my chest as I scrambled for my keys. I’d been here before. Last time I’d put off my future for my mom, and I lost it all. I couldn’t put it off again. Now that I knew the life I wanted, I couldn’t wait one more minute for that life to begin.

“Okay.” Mitch’s large hand closed over mine, both of us holding fast to my keys. “Listen. Take a breath. You’re not going out there tonight. You don’t know where he’s staying, do you?” Off my head shake, he nodded. “So he could be camping, or he could be at a hotel. You’ll never find him if you drive out there in the middle of the night. Go home. Send him a text, let him know we’re on the way. Get some sleep, and we’ll head over there in the morning.”

“We?”

“Yeah.” He took one more look around the bar and dance floor area as April came back with the receipt in her fist. “Nothing going on here tonight anyway.”

“How altruistic of you,” April said. “Giving up your valuable hookup time to help out a friend.”

“Hey, I’m a giver.” He stuck out an arm, ushering the two of us to walk in front of him. “Besides, I think I’ve hooked up with half of this bar.” He shook his head. “I need a new hangout.”





Twenty-Two




I didn’t text him.

I tried. More than once. But the right words weren’t coming, and I’d meant it when I’d said I was sick of screens, especially when it came to Daniel. He hadn’t fought for me, or done something romantic to win me back, because he thought he wasn’t good enough. That he didn’t have what I wanted. I realized now that I didn’t need a sweeping romantic gesture. Daniel did. So instead I plugged my phone in for the night, telling myself that if for some reason we missed him at the Maryland Ren Fest tomorrow, I’d text. I’d call. I’d do everything in the world to get to him. But until then I needed to find him in person. Do this face-to-face.

The next morning Mitch picked me up in his gargantuan pickup truck—a bright red monstrosity that was roughly the size of my apartment—and we stopped at April’s house before getting on the road.

“Thank you so much for coming along,” I said from the back of the extended cab as April opened the passenger door. “Mitch is great and all—”

“Glad to hear it.” Mitch’s voice was as dry as the Sahara as he adjusted his rearview mirror.