Under the Northern Lights(68)

“One of us has to be.” Relaxing my grip on his arm, I slowly said, “So what do you think . . . about coming home with me? If my home is like this, do you think you could . . .” Stay with me?

Michael let out a long sigh and grabbed my fingers, removing them from his arm. “Mallory . . . I’ve never led you on about this. I know you think I can do it . . . and maybe I can, but the point you’re missing is that . . . I don’t want to.”

“Not even for me?” I whispered, my quiet voice shaking with emotion. “Not even for us?”

His eyes were anguished as he relentlessly stared at me; I felt like he could see all the way through my soul. “No. I’m sorry . . . I truly am, but my answer is still no.”

My heart cracked wide open—again—pouring hope and faith all over the frozen sidewalk. I’d so thought he could . . . but no . . . he couldn’t. Or he wouldn’t, at any rate. “Oh . . . okay . . . well . . . I should . . . I should call home, see if my parents will buy me a ticket since I don’t have much on me.”

I felt dazed, broken. I never should have asked when I already knew the answer. I never should have hoped . . . because it was the hope that was killing me, not Michael. He’d told me from the beginning that he didn’t want to leave his little cabin in the woods. I was a fool to think love would change his mind.

“Mallory,” he said, stepping forward to engulf me in his arms. “I don’t want to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry I fell for you . . . I’m sorry you fell for me.” Pulling back, he studied me with watery eyes. “I’m sorry this is ending.”

Feeling tears dropping to my cheeks, I shook my head. “Don’t be sorry for loving me—don’t be sorry that I love you. Love is the most precious commodity we have, and . . . even if it’s temporary . . . it should be cherished.”

A small smile curved his lips. “I am going to miss you.”

Nodding, I sniffled. “I’m going to miss you too. So much.”

His lips lowered to mine, and I forced myself to put the past and future aside—to completely stay in the moment with him. Because our moment was quickly running out.

After our tender kiss ended, Michael wiped my tears dry, then grabbed my hand. “There’s a working pay phone on the corner,” he told me. He began leading me there, and with every step, I found it harder and harder to not think about . . . anything. Staying present was difficult when a tidal wave of emotions was rapidly approaching.

Michael lifted the handset and handed it to me. He plopped in some quarters; then I entered the number to my mom’s diner. It was the middle of the day, so if she was anywhere, it was there. I looped my finger around the cord as it rang. Nerves mixed with excitement—I couldn’t wait to hear her voice again.

When the phone finally picked up, my heart was thundering in my chest. “Nana’s Diner, this is Nana.”

“Mom?” My voice cracked, and I could feel the tears building already.

“Mallory, oh my God, is that you? Is that really you? Are you okay? Where are you? You were gone for so long—we thought, oh my God, we thought . . .”

I could hear her begin to sob; my own tears were instantly flowing down my cheeks. “I’m fine, Mom. I’m fine, and I want to come home.” Now I was sobbing, racked by pain. Pain for hurting my parents, pain from hearing my mom’s voice again, pain for the sentence that had just left my lips. I want to come home . . . and leave Michael behind.

When we could both breathe again, I had Mom book a flight back home for me. “I’ll call you at the airport so you can let me know the details.”

“Okay, honey. I love you so much. I’m so glad you’re coming home.” Her voice broke again.

“I love you, too, Mom. I’ll see you soon.” Afraid that I would lose it again, I hung up as quickly as I could.

Michael rubbed my back. He was smiling softly when I looked up at him. “I don’t want to say this, but . . . if I’m going to make it back to the cabin tonight, I need to leave soon.”

My heart was instantly in my throat. Leave. Soon. Wiping away a tear I hadn’t felt fall, he said, “I’ll take you to the airport first.”

My insides were screaming—No! This is wrong!—but I nodded and let him lead me back to the van. The airport we were going to was different than the small one we’d arrived at. It was the largest in town, for commercial flights. Michael and I were silent for some time; then I broke the quiet between us.

“Would you like me to . . . contact your father when I get home? Let him know you’re okay?”

Michael instantly shook his head. “No.”

“Michael, he would want to know that—”

Michael’s eyes flashed to mine before returning to the road. “No, Mallory. He doesn’t need to know anything about me.”

“Why?” I quietly asked.

Michael sighed, and I thought for sure he wouldn’t tell me. Then he softly said, “He gave up on her . . . Kelly.”

Bunching my brows, I tried to understand what that meant. “I don’t . . .”

Michael briefly closed his eyes. “He’s a cop . . . in New York. A captain, actually. He’s the one who closed Kelly’s case when it turned cold. He shut the door on my wife and let her murderer get away free and clear. He might as well have helped the asshole do it.”