Waiting On You (Blue Heron #3)(40)

“No, Colleen, that’s not how it is at all.”

“Yeah? Well, do you want to get married, then?” Her breath was ragged.

You have the right to remain silent. “Yes. Eventually.”

“I see. Well, I want to get married sooner than eventually.” She jammed her hands on her hips, and for the first time, Lucas felt a stir of anger.

“So you’re blackmailing me, is that it?” he asked. “I screwed up, I was trying to protect you—”

“Don’t even go there. Do you want to marry me, or don’t you? Do you want to play the field? Is that it?”

“Colleen, come on.” He tried to take her hands, but she stepped back. “There’s no one but you, okay? But if you’re asking if I want to get married now, at the age of twenty-two, the answer is no. I don’t want to live above some garage, I don’t want the hassle that goes along with getting married, not to mention staying married. Not right now. I just don’t, Colleen. I’m sorry about your father, but...no.”

She was quiet for a few seconds. “Take care, Lucas.”

And with that, she walked out, and he stood there like an idiot, her words surreal, hanging in the air like a noose.

“Jesus, man,” said Bernard. “She’s feisty.”

Lucas bolted after her. “Colleen, this is stupid. We don’t have to break up.”

“Yes, we do,” she said, yanking open the door of her Honda. “If you think of being married to me as a hassle, we do. Now, I’m sorry, but I have a ten-hour drive.”

“Colleen, don’t be irrational.” On such a roll tonight, really. But honestly, she couldn’t issue an ultimatum just because she was upset. That wasn’t how things worked.

“You had a choice. You made it. Goodbye.”

Nice. Did she think he was about to drop to his knees and say, “Yes, baby, whatever you want, just don’t leave me.” For the life of him, she looked as if she was about to rip his heart out of his chest and eat it like an apple. “You’re acting like an idiot,” he said.

“That’s great,” she answered. “Who could resist such tender and beautiful words? Really. I’m all choked up. Fuck you, by the way.”

She got in the car, slammed the door and threw it in gear, laying down some rubber as she left. Screeched around the corner.

He pulled out his phone and texted her. Slow down and call me later. We’re not done.

She may have slowed down. She didn’t call.

He called her the next day. When it went to voice mail, he hung up and called the house. Connor answered.

“Is Colleen around?” he asked.

“We’re kind of in the middle of something,” Connor said tightly.

“Yeah. She told me. Uh...can you have her call me?”

“I’ll tell her you called.” Connor hung up.

Fine. She was mad, he understood. She could call him when she wanted to. But he wasn’t going to marry her because she ordered him to or as some kind of Band-Aid; he’d marry her when they could have a good life together. That had always been the plan, and she knew it.

Colleen had never gone without. Lucas had. He remembered his sister at the age of sixteen, spending hours to get across town, taking three buses to the store that had double coupons once a month. He remembered knowing not to ask for seconds because whatever was left over would be tomorrow’s dinner, too. He’d been poor, and he’d seen what a lack of money had driven his father to do, and he was damned if he’d bring Colleen into that life.

As for the situation with her father...that was wretched. He knew this must be killing her, and the only thing he wanted was to help. But he’d called her, and she didn’t want to talk, so it was her move.

A week later, Colleen hadn’t called him.

Fine. She wanted to take a break, fine, that was great. Smart, even. She had shit going on, and so did he. Classes. Finals. He’d be going to Loyola for law school. Stephanie had found another, slightly nicer apartment and needed him to help her move. Maybe Colleen would realize that all or nothing wasn’t the way to play this. Maybe she’d miss him.

It took him a month to snap.

He took a bus to Manningsport and got there at nine-thirty that night with a massive headache from diesel fumes and the rose perfume of the old lady next to him, who hadn’t stopped talking since Terre Haute. He stood for a minute on the green, breathing in the clean air, the smell of the lake and recent rain. The town was quiet, and it took a minute for Lucas to acclimate from the roar of the Greyhound bus, the squeal of its brakes.

The Black Cat was open.

Despite thirteen hours of thinking of nothing else, Lucas suddenly wasn’t sure what he was going to say. Hopefully, when she saw him, she’d give him that smile and say, “It took you long enough, idiot,” and all was fine with the two of them, and yes, marriage now wasn’t the best idea, of course she’d wait. She loved him. And this time, he’d tell her the same thing.

Still, he hesitated, not sure if walking through the door was the best plan. From the green, he could see the bar was crowded. Probably, being May, there was some kind of wine thing in town, as there was most weekends during the spring and summer (and fall, and half of winter). Sure enough, there were plenty of out-of-state license plates on the cars parked in the street.