“Do you have food?”
He half-smiled and leaned in the frame, pushing the door open a little farther.
“Dinner’s on the table,” he said. “But you’ll have to join us if you’re hungry.”
“I’ll take my chances and stay in here.”
“Alone?” he asked. “Without food? You must be hungry by now.”
“I’m fine.”
“You want to talk?”
“Nope.”
He nudged himself off the doorframe and entered the room, taking only three long strides before he reached the side of my bed. He sat next to me, the mattress squeaking beneath his weight.
“Talk to me, kid. What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, and I wasn’t surprised by his curiosity. There was no doubt Chris had told him how I’d rushed out of the room three hours ago, and how I’d refused to open my door at his several attempts to talk to me since.
My brain was overloaded with confusion. I’d spent all of yesterday out there with them, helping with the B&B operations and the Christmas decorations. I’d spent the afternoon baking in the kitchen with Theo, and after a half hour of sitting with Danielle, Chris, Eli, and Amy, I urgently dismissed myself and disappeared. How could they understand what had happened?
They couldn’t, and I wasn’t sure I could explain. Plagued with guilt, I’d turned to the only solace I had: isolation.
“Sydney, what’s going on? What happened?”
“There’s a lot going on out there,” I said, avoiding the real answer, offering a weaker excuse for my sudden reclusiveness.
“The noise has died down,” he said, not reading too far into my withdrawal. “Amy and Eli have left for dinner in town, and the Carlsons checked in and went straight to their room. Mr. Kingsley’s not expected for another hour or so, so if you think you can put up with Chris and me for a while, I think you should consider coming out for dinner.”
“And Danielle?”
“She left a while ago,” he said. “So what do you say? You want to join us?”
Yes. I wanted to, and that was the problem. I wanted go out and sit with him and Chris, but I couldn’t convince myself that it was a safe option. I realized I would rather be alone with my thoughts than out there, making attachments to people I’d have to eventually say goodbye to. Or making stronger connections than I already had.
I couldn’t put myself in a worse situation than I was already in, and I was scarily close to doing that. There were too many risks that came with settling for the lies. What if I got too comfortable? How long could I keep this up? What if the truth came out? It would ruin everything. How could I know that Chris wouldn’t hate me for all the lies? How could I know that he wouldn’t hate Theo? Chris loved Theo. He trusted him, and I could ruin that. I could ruin everything—not only the story we’d created but the relationships that were here long before I showed my face.
I had to fight it. I couldn’t let myself want this, regardless of the changes I’d felt.
I’d gone from the constant longing for home to finding comfort in a new place. Every now and then, I found that I’d gone an hour without feeling the pain, without the sadness, without the loss. I’d stayed busy. I’d gotten a glimpse of what a normal life in the B&B looked like. I experienced how inclusion among the team felt, and it was exhilarating. It was a strange sense of belonging that I’d missed, and it scared me—because it felt good, because I liked it.
My heart yearned for a place where it belonged, and even though that place wasn’t here, I’d started to accept it. I’d caught myself picturing what my life would be like if I only allow myself to want what was right in front of me.
I had no business wanting all of this, not when I had a home to go back to. Not with Rosa and Carrie waiting for me. The longer I spent away from them, the more I allowed myself to accept what was happening. And that wasn’t okay. I had to snap myself out of it. So I retreated; I gave myself time for thought and introspection.
“You gonna come out for dinner?”
“Just dinner?” I asked. “That’s all you’re asking for?”
“And the tree lighting,” Theo said. “You won’t wanna miss the light show.”
“I don’t want to go back out there,” I said, remembering how much I’d loved Morgantown. Chris had once promised that the light show was a spectacular event, and one not to be missed. I wanted that taste of Christmas, especially with Chris at my side, but not at the cost. Not knowing that I would inevitably want this life more than I had any right to.
Leaving Morgantown was the goal—it was the first of many goals that would set the rest of my life in motion. First, going home and putting the Political Shooter behind bars—ripping the rest of his life away the same way he’d ripped my father’s away from him. Getting justice. Finding peace. Getting back to a place where I wouldn’t have to be scared at every waking moment. That was the first step.
I couldn’t start over—in Morgantown or back home. I’d had a life I loved before everything was blown to pieces. So it meant rebuilding my life, and doing that without my father would feel next to impossible, but I wasn’t starting from scratch. I had Rosa. I had Carrie. I had all my plans to walk graduation in the spring, spend the summer with my best friend, and start my first semester of college in the fall. The plan was to work toward something better than hopelessness.
Not all hope was lost, I knew that now. There was something there, something to go back to, a future to focus on. And that life could never collide with this one. I was torn between two worlds that could never meet.
Theo’s life was here. Chris belonged here, and he believed that now more than ever. This is where he wanted to be. And there was no way to compromise, to make him part of my world the way he’d made me part of his—not because he wanted to be here, but because he wouldn’t want anything to do with me once he learned the truth. I’d lied to him . . . about so much. And in the end, the lies would come out, and everything I’d built in Morgantown would come crashing down around me.
“I know you’re scared.”
“Yeah, that’s common knowledge,” I said.
“Going to the light show won’t be any different than your trip into town on Wednesday,” Theo said, breaking into my thoughts. “You braved that, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You survived.”
“Yeah, but only because I needed air; I needed to breathe.”
“There’ll be plenty of air out there tonight,” he said. “Come out with us. Catch your breath.”
“I don’t think so . . . ”
“Let’s start with dinner, okay?” he asked. “We’ll take this one step at a time. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Promise?”
“Absolutely.”
“And if I decide not to go out tonight?”
“I won’t argue,” he said, grinning, as if he doubted I would hang back while everyone else left the house.
“Okay,” I nodded, throwing back the blankets and sliding off the bed. “As long as I have your word?”
“You’re free to do as you want. I promise.”
“One step at a time?”
“Unless you feel like running?”
“I’m already running, Theo,” I sighed. “That’s the problem.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Man, still nothing,” Chris said, setting his phone aside.
“What are you waiting for, exactly?” Theo asked from across the table.
He’d returned to the dining room five minutes ago, giving me some time to wash up before I trudged out of my room. It hadn’t taken long for him and Chris to settle back into their conversation as they waited—neither one with a speck of food yet on their plates.
“An engagement announcement,” Chris said, picking up the phone to check the screen again. “Eli’s proposing tonight, remember?”
“He won’t do it at dinner,” I said, walking in the room, and both of the men turned to me.
/> “Hey.” Chris pushed himself away from the table and stood, offering me the chair next to his. “Glad you’re out among the living again. Is everything okay?”
I nodded, but Theo swooped in with another question before I had time to answer.
“What makes you think he won’t do it at dinner?” he asked, his focus back on the impending engagement.
“Dinner’s a prelude to the big event,” I said, taking the seat Chris offered. We both sat down. “He’s setting the tone.”
“So if not at dinner, then when?” Chris asked.
“Tonight,” I guessed. “It’s a small town, and one she loves. The tree lighting is a huge event, and with the light show going on, they’ll be outside in the cold, holding onto each other. It gives them a chance to cuddle up, walk the streets to see the lights. Perfect scenery and opportunity. He’ll find his moment.”
“You think so?” Chris asked, scrolling through the news feed on his phone.
“Why do you keep checking that thing?” Theo asked. “It’s not like he’s going to pop the question, pull out his cell, and text you an update.”
“I’m checking Facebook,” Chris said, waving the phone. “They post everything on there.”
Theo scoffed. “Why is it that your generation feels the need to chronicle every moment of your lives on social media?”
“You’re on Facebook?” I asked, suddenly leaning closer, both of us ignoring Theo’s question.
“Yeah, are you?” He tapped the search bar, ready to type my name.
“No.”
“No?” he asked. “Why not?”
I looked away, hoping to avoid an answer, because his question slammed me with the reminder that I’d deactivated my account right after Dad’s murder. With his death hitting the news, so many messages were pouring in, and even people I’d never met before were posting to my wall. I couldn’t handle the stress or the pressure, and the last thing I wanted was to be reminded of the horrible tragedy every time I picked up my phone. I had plenty of reminders on repeat in my mind; I didn’t need them on Facebook, too.
“You know, like Theo said,” I said, my voice broken. “No reason for detailing every moment online.”
“Right,” Chris said, nodding, though I doubted he believed my reasoning.
“Why don’t we eat?” Theo asked, drawing us away from the touchy subject.
He spooned a pile of potatoes on his plate while Chris reached for a bowl of asparagus. Just as he offered it to me, the front door of the B&B popped open, and an elderly gentleman let himself in.
“Mr. Kingsley, you made great time,” Chris said, rushing out of his seat.
The old man dusted snow off his shoulders and placed his bag on the floor, freeing his hands to adjust his coat and scarf. Chris left the table and made his way through the common room and into the foyer, and I listened as he engaged his guest in quiet conversation.
Across the table, Theo filled his plate from the few serving bowls he’d set out, but I paid little attention to him; I kept my eyes focused outward, listening to the exchange at the front of the house.
Chris was checking in his guest, welcoming him back to the B&B. The two of them shared a laugh, and my heart swelled. I couldn’t even see him from where I sat, but his happiness radiated in waves, daring my lips to smile.
“You like him,” Theo said, and my head snapped in his direction.
“What?”
“Chris,” he said. “You—like—him.”
“Theo, now, come on. Haven’t we already gone through this?” I asked, sounding more offended by his accusation than I’d meant to. “He’s nice, and he’s been more than welcoming, and I’m grateful for that. But . . . ” I shook my head. “Please don’t read more into this than what it is. You said yourself: it’s nice to have new friends.”
“Oh, right, sorry,” Theo said, a sour expression twisting his face. “You’re right. I get it. My mistake.”
“It’s fine.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking. He’s clearly not your type.”
“How could you possibly know that?” I asked, watching him take a first bite. “What does that even mean?”
“He’s goofy.”
“Sometimes goofy’s cute, though,” I said under my breath, remembering the childish expression Chris wore on my first day in town, after sliding across the ice and saving himself from a complete wipeout. Or the few times he’d failed miserably at making jokes that ended with crickets. There was nothing wrong with goofy . . . not as far as I could see.
“Sure, yeah, but it’s not ideal,” Theo said. “Girls don’t go for that, do they? They chase the alphas—the athletes, the guys at the gym, the muscles and brawn. The federal marshal type.” He squared his shoulders and winked. “Cute is fine, but sexy is better.”
“Says who? Since when did a person’s value become dependent on their appearance?”
“Okay,” he said, agreeing. “But then there’s also the fact that he’s quiet. Is quiet a good thing? Does it add to the air of mystery?”
“The only mystery is why you think he’s quiet,” I said. “You’ve said that twice now, but even around you and Danielle, Chris is never short for words. And did you see him with Amy and Eli?”
“We’re family. He’s known us for years.”
“But I’m new, and he always talks to me.”
“Because he likes you,” he said, waving a hand. “But it’s not a big deal. Forget I said anything. Forget it.”
“Did he say that?”
“What?”
“That he likes me?”
“He doesn’t have to,” he said. “I know him.” Silence settled in the room for a few minutes, and I thought that would be the end of it, but then Theo sat straighter and stared at me. “Tell me something.”
“Sure.”
“If he’s so nice and welcoming, and you think goofy is cute, and the two of you enjoy talking to each other, then what is it? What’s the problem?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because I love him,” he said. “I want to see him happy.”
“That’s admirable, Theo, it is. But it also seems odd to me that you’d root for your underage niece to be interested in the older, goofy, super-hot guy who’s sleeping across the hall every night.”
“Yeah, but that older, goofy, super-hot guy who’s sleeping across the hall every night is a good kid,” he said. “I trust him with everything I am. If I didn’t trust him, I wouldn’t have left the two of you alone for a second. I want to see him happy, and he’s happier around you than I’ve seen him in years. That means something to me. So sue me for being curious, but I thought I saw something there. I assumed you liked him.” He shrugged. “I guess I was wrong.”
“It’s not that I don’t like him,” I said, touched by the fact that all Theo wanted for Chris was the same thing he wanted for me: happiness. “Chris is great. I’ve said it a dozen times before. He’s nice, and kind, and—”
“Driven?”
“So driven,” I agreed, recalling the conversations I’d had with Chris earlier that week. “He told me all about the B&B, how you signed it over to him. He stepped up, and that’s admirable. It’s incredible. I’ve watched him these last few days, and he cares about this place. He wants to succeed. I mean, he’s only nineteen and he’s running a business, Theo. And he’s doing it successfully. Not many people could do something like that. His dedication here is so—”
“Attractive?”
“Impressive,” I said, glaring.
“Listen to you,” he said, almost laughing. “You struggle with a lie, and yet you struggle with the truth.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“For someone who preaches honesty, you’d think it wouldn’t be so hard to admit what’s going on.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing, you don’t have to say anything.”
He’d grown complacent, and he was daring me to let it go. But
I couldn’t. I hated that I couldn’t. He’d hit a nerve, and he knew it. He knew I wasn’t ready to drop this, and it was making him smugger by the second.
“What?” I asked.
“I said nothing.”
“Except your silence says a lot.”
He took another bite, settling for a shrug in lieu of a response.
“Okay, so you know,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Big deal. It’s not like I have to admit anything to you, and it’s not like I’m lying if I keep it to myself.”
“Well, technically, an omission is a lie.”
“Fine!” I said. “I like Chris, okay? I—like—him. A lot. He’s gorgeous, and he’s silly, and he’s undoubtedly the nicest person I’ve ever met. He’s never pressured me to talk about anything, and yet I’m comfortable opening up to him. I’ve had this gut instinct about him from the start, and I know I can trust him; there’s no doubt where he’s concerned. He has no reason to help me, and yet he treats me like his sole concern. I feel a connection to him that I don’t understand, and I don’t even care to understand it. It’s there, and it feels right. And you know what else? I like knowing that when I turn a corner, he’ll be there. His smile . . . God, it makes me feel something I’ve never felt before. And it’s nice to feel something good for a change. So yes, he’s amazing, and I like him. Are you happy now?”
“I am,” Chris said, staring at me from across the room, Mr. Kingsley at his side.
I hadn’t heard them come in, and I had no idea how much they’d heard, but even the smallest amount was too much. I’d said too much. How could I do that? Was it the pressure, the weight of the secret? I’d spilled my guts, as if I were talking to Carrie . . . as if there was never a risk in feeling the things I felt.
“Can we rewind a little?” Chris asked. “I feel like I missed too much of this conversation.”
My face flushed, and I turned a guilty look to Theo. He sat across the table, looking as smug as ever, and I wanted to cry. I thought about making a mad dash for the door, running back to my room and locking myself up for another twenty-four hours, or until I’d lived down the humiliation. But I couldn’t get out of the room without passing Chris, and there was no way he’d let me go quietly this time.
Running Scared (Letters From Morgantown Book 1) Page 14
