Page 48 of The Moment Promised

His sentence holds so much weight. Is he talking about when we met or when I allegedly kidnapped him?

“Or maybe it was her who was at the right place, right time,” I say. My stomach drops when his eyes flicker from my lips to my eyes.

This unspoken push and pull we’ve been teetering on ends now. I don’t know what it means on his end. Those two kisses we’ve shared, and his compliments embedded into our usual banter… It cannot go on.

My heart aches like grief, but I’m grieving something that was never mine to begin with.

I’ve played out every scenario in my head and there’s a ninety-nine percent chance of failure…heartbreak…loss. With my track record, who says I’ll be the exception, that one percent? I would be kidding myself to think I could achieve anything near happily ever after. I know how this really ends. I’ll always be the best friend, a bridesmaid at his wedding, the Aunt Adeline to his children. But if I risk something more than friends happening, I might even losethatfuture.

I can either give in and let this spark—that I think is between us—ignite, risking all the good in my life now, or I can smother it before it becomes a wildfire and burns my happy life with him to the ground.

What we have now is a perfectly built home. My only home.

My heart tells me to let him pull me close. Instead, I roll over and say easily, “I just got really tired all of a sudden.”

Neither of us say anything the rest of the night, and before I know it, the morning sun lights up the motel room.

Someone bangs aggressively on the door, instinctually I scoot next to Finn. He startles awake and holds on to me, looking around the room. Probably feeling the confusion of waking up in a new place other than his own bed.

The banging continues, and Finn jumps out of bed, glancing around. He grabs the lamp, unplugs it, and then opens the door.

“Rise and shine—what’s the lamp for?”

I rub my eyes and peek around Finn, at the lady from the front desk. She holds a basket full of pastries.

“It’s six a.m. I could’ve seriously hurt you with this,” Finn says, coming down from the adrenaline I assume. He turns to face me, and my eyes zero in on the bulge in his pants. My face swells in a deep red no doubt. I look away and squeeze my eyes shut.

The lady lets out a deep laugh. “You’re one funny fella.” She peeps her head in. “I see why yah like him.” And then she uses her hands to gesture measuring out something very big.

Oh my gosh.

Finn catches on and looks down. “Fuck,” he mutters, using the lamp to cover himself up. He grabs something out of his suitcase and rushes into the bathroom. I roll out of bed to retrieve the basket.

“Hey, hey, hey, leave some for the rest of us,” the lady says.

I thought she was giving us the whole basket. I blush and grab two bagels and blueberry muffins.

“You two have a good morning.” She gives me a knowing smile.

I muster up a smile and shut the door.

Welcome to Georgia. I snap a quick photo of the sign. We stop to fill up the gas tank. The air feels dryer here. I look around at the nothingness that surrounds us. There is one other car here, a copper-colored Volvo, and other than that it feels like we are in the middle of nowhere.

It’s terrifying, like if I scream right now it would get lost in the trees.

The gas station looks the same as the ones in Florida. I think knowing I’m in a different state than my mom is freaking me out a little. I’m so used to being always a five-minute drive from her.

The smell of gasoline gives me a headache, my breath becomes short, and I feel a minor panic attack coming on. Finn finishes filling up his car, docking the gas pump. He walks over to me and places a gentle hand to my cheek. “You okay?”

No. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He pulls me toward him, hugging me tight and whispering against my ear, “You’re a terrible liar.”

I breathe him in, smelling a hint of the cinnamon and clove soap he’s been using since we were kids. You can only catch the scent if your nose is pressed into his skin.

“If you want to go back, say the word and I’ll turn around,” he says.

I picture my mom, detoxing and surrounded by nurses and psychologists. Safe and sound. The photo I took only ten minutes ago of Georgia’s welcome sign flashes across my memory, a significant moment, because I’m the farthest I’ve gone into the world, right here with Finn by my side. It only makes me want to go further. “No, let’s drive.” I breathe him inone last time, before pulling away and climbing into the driver’s seat.

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