A Cross-Country Christmas(52)

They walked to the repair shop where—thankfully—the Grand Cherokee was waiting for them. He paid for the new tire and found Lauren in the parking lot.

“You okay?” He unlocked the car.

“Yeah,” she said absently. “Just have a lot on my mind.” She stuffed her bags into the back, then opened the passenger side door. He put a hand on her arm, and again, her muscles tensed.

“I’m really excited for you, Lauren. You’ve been working hard for this, and it’s a huge deal. Don’t pretend like it’s not.”

She held his gaze, and he could see thoughts tumbling around in her mind, but in response, she simply put on a clearly fake smile and said, “Thanks.” Then got in the car.

Square one.

They were back where they’d started. As if they’d never shared a single moment on common ground.

And he had no idea how to fix it.





Chapter 25





Lauren’s reinstated resolve was wavering with every touch, every kind word Will said to her. She knew he didn’t stay downstairs and hook up with that leggy blonde because she heard his knock on her door about twenty minutes after she texted. She knew he couldn’t sleep because she’d laid there, awake, listening to the sound of his television through the wall.

She couldn’t be sure, but she thought he was watching Die Hard. The first one.

And she saw his last text—a heart emoji—come in when her phone lit up on the nightstand.

She also knew she had no right to be mad at him. And yet, she couldn’t be nice to him. She had no idea what had stopped her from answering his knock last night. Only that she’d let herself think about him—dream about him—in a way she swore she would never do again.

This is stupid. What am I doing? Why am I like this?

Will had a magnetic charm that women were drawn to. There would always be a leggy blonde or a stunning brunette or a flirty redhead to compete with. And she knew she’d never come out ahead.

Still, the silence made her even sadder. She missed their banter. She even missed Will singing off-key.

She missed Will, and he was sitting right next to her.

She didn’t know how to be friends with him without falling for him.

Will didn’t stop nearly as many times as he had on their previous travel days; Lauren guessed it was because of her bad attitude. But around noon, he pulled off for gas and food at a little café next to a fudge factory.

The air between them was superficially cordial. He was acting like he was invited to a wedding and didn’t know anyone at his table. The walk to the door was tense and she hated that it was her fault.

She pretended to engross herself in her phone, hyper-aware that he was watching her. Their food came, and she preceded to push it around her plate without really eating.

And still he watched her. Finally, she met his gaze.

“You’re staring at me.”

He nodded. “I am.”

She looked around, avoiding his eyes. “Why?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with you.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she brushed off. “I told you, I’m just stressed out.”

“No. This is different. You’re being all closed off and rude again, like you were at the beginning of this trip.”

She shrugged. “What makes you think anything’s changed since then?”

Lauren, good grief, that was mean.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because everything did change.” He looked genuinely hurt by her cold shoulder.

Something inside her twisted at the thought.

She wasn’t this person. She wasn’t mean. She didn’t purposely wound people who’d done nothing but be nice to her. “Will, let’s not pretend—”

“Yes, Lauren, let’s not.” His tone mocked her.

She stalled, unsure what to say.

“Let’s not pretend that there isn’t something going on here.” He flicked a hand back and forth between them, as if they were a pair.

She frowned. “What?”

“You and me,” he said. “We like each other, right? Or did I have that completely wrong?”

Her pulse quickened, but her brain slowed. She scrambled for an answer, and found nothing.

“You’re one of the most mature people I know, but right now you’re acting like a child.”

She could hardly believe it. “I’m the child. I’m the child? What about you?”

“What about me?” He seemed genuinely confused.

“You have nothing to say?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw you, Will!” She regretted the words as soon as they were out.

He looked around, as if trying to find the answer laying on the floor in the room. “Saw me where?”

“Nowhere. Just forget it.”

This was so dumb. She scolded herself in her head. Her fear and her pride were going to kill this relationship before it even started.

She had no right to feel the way she did, and yet, this was how she felt. Seeing him at the bar was like seeing him in the kitchen.

The girl even had the same color hair.

How do you tell someone they broke your heart when they don’t even remember the night it happened? How do you explain this was the only way to keep it from happening again? How do you admit feelings you really, really didn’t want to have?