Unravel(64)

She clears her throat and looks over my shoulder at the paperwork. “No. It’s a weekend pass,” she says quietly. “I just need your signature.”

I wasn’t going to challenge her. I quickly scribble my name on the bottom of the paper and step back. I shift my feet and stare at Dr. Rutledge.

“That’s it,” she says happily. “Have a fun weekend, Naomi.” Lachlan and I walk out the door. I take a deep breath of the fresh air. I scan the cars in the parking lot. There are high piles of snow in the corner of the parking lot from the snowplow. Salt is peppered along the sidewalk to prevent falling. And I’m glad, because today I’m so excited and anxious to get out of here I would’ve run ahead to Lachlan’s car and busted my ass.

I put one foot in front of the other, reminding myself that I need to look like a normal person. One that walks outside and interacts with people in the real world daily. I look over at Lachlan. His walk is confident. Shoulders straight. Chin slightly lifted, daring anyone to step in his way.

When I get into his car I breathe into my hands as we wait for the car to warm up. Lachlan places a warm hand on my thigh and smiles at me. “Are you ready?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good,” he says and pulls out of the parking spot. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

He pulls out onto the road and presses the gas.

The temptation to turn in my seat and wave at Fairfax is strong, but if I do, my gaze will wander to the ghost of myself staring longingly outside, putting another tally on the window. So I stare straight ahead as the dry, frozen over grass flies past us.

“You might as well relax; it’s a two-hour drive to my house,” Lachlan says.

“How do you expect me to relax?” I wave my hand around. “I haven’t been in a car in months. I need to take everything in! Today’s been pure torture. I sat in the rec room the whole day, staring at the clock.”

“If it makes you feel any better, there’s a pile of paperwork on my desk because I couldn’t concentrate. I ended up leaving work an hour early.” Lachlan gives me such a raw, personal smile, I almost clutch my chest in pain. “But if you want to keep looking around, then by all means… don’t let me interrupt.”

“Nah.” I shift in my seat. “Tell me about your house.”

“What do you want to know?”

“What’s it like?”

He shrugs. “It’s a house.”

“Come on,” I coax. “Give me your best description.”

“It’s small. Two bedrooms, one bathroom. There’s a small kitchen and living room. The carpet is outdated, along with the appliances, but I like it.”

“Did you decorate?”

He gives me a look that says, ‘What do you think?’

I grin and watch as dusk paints the sky.

We take the highway, bypassing McLean. I watch my hometown fly past me from my window and it looks like a blur of lights. I should probably feel some pull to the town I grew up in, but I don’t. The only pull that I have is the memories with Lana. Those memories tug at my heart, screaming at me that Lana is out there. Maybe not in McLean, but somewhere close.

We turn here and there and the two-hour drive flies by and soon we’re driving into the outskirts of Charlottesville. We stop by a fast food restaurant and order greasy food that makes my stomach rumble.

“We’re almost there,” Lachlan says.

“It’s okay,” I reassure him. “I’m having fun.”

“Just sitting in a car?”

I shrug and sneak a few French fries. “I’m getting a glimpse at your new life in this town.”

“I’m still adjusting,” Lachlan admits. “But it’s nice having no one know your name.” He looks over at me. “You’d love it.”

“If I ever get out of Fairfax,” I murmur.

“You will,” Lachlan says firmly.

We drive out of the city. Cars start to become sparse and the road becomes smaller and more compact. Lachlan has to slow down to avoid the potholes. Excitement courses through my veins when Lachlan pulls onto a gravel driveway. It started to snow when we left Charlottesville. The headlights illuminate the frozen grains, making them look like millions of snowflakes dancing in the air.

The ride up his driveway is rough. I jostle around in my seat and grab the handle above my head and hang on.

“You drive up and down this daily?”

“Yep.”

“How does your car even have shocks?”

“It’s just a little bumpy,” Lachlan argues.

I shoot him a look.

“Okay…” he says slowly. “It’s really bumpy. But I’ll get it fixed soon.”

A moment later he parks the car. I stare at the house in front of us. “So this is your house.”

It is small. White paint is chipping on the side. A small porch with just a broom leaning against the side of the house. There’s no grandeur. No over-the-top design. It is the exact opposite of how we grew up.

I couldn’t love it more. It reminds me of the cottage out in the woods.

Lachlan tilts his head, giving me a boyish smile that reminds me of the fifteen-year-old boy I fell in love with. “This is it. Does it meet your expectations?”