Page 105 of Merritt and Her Childhood Crush
“What do you think?” I ask Banjo. His advice consists of sticking his wet nose in my ear.
“I draw the line at wet willies,” I tell him, gently lowering him back to the ground.
He scurries off toward the dogs, who are suddenly barking and running toward the driveway. I didn’t even hear a car approaching, and when I see that it’s Merritt, my heart suddenly decides to lodge itself in my throat.
I amble over, much slower and much less enthusiastically than the dogs. I consider and discard different greetings, just like I did while overthinking my unsent texts.
What I want more than anything is to throw myself at her moving vehicle and yank her out and into my arms. Instead, I keep my hands balled into fists in my pockets as she steps out of the car.
She casts a quick glance my way before dropping down to pet all the dogs and Banjo, who weaves between them all like a cat. Is it bad to be jealous of the animals?
It’s so simple for them—they missed her. She’s back. Give her all the love. The end.
Where I’m over here giving off I don’t know what kind of vibes because I missed Merritt like crazy, but I also feel so uncertain.
She stands, brushing off her hands on her jeans. “Hey.”
Like an idiot, I pull one hand out of my pocket and wave. “Hey.”
Her lips twitch, but she doesn’t smile. Instead, she leans back against her car, her expression not telling me anything at all.
“So, you went to New York.”
She nods. “I did. I wanted to tell you before I left but …”
I don’t need her to finish saying what’s on her mind to know she’s upset with me about Cass. Rightly so. “Can you walk and talk? Or walk and fight, if that’s what we’re doing?”
Now she does smile. “Is this to make up for the date we missed?”
Her smile and teasing tone settle some of the worry pinching my chest. “Is that the norm for dating now—walking and fighting?”
“You forgot swiping. First, there’s usually swiping on some app. Then walking and fighting.”
“Glad we skipped the swiping part.”
I incline my head toward the path, and we start off, side by side. Banjo opts for a nap on the hood of Merritt’s car, while the dogs run after us, oblivious to the mood between us.
Which is … tense. It reminds me of how things were between us when she first got here six weeks ago. Not quite so much ugly between us. But definitely air that needs clearing.
“We should—” I start, just as she says, “I want you to know—”
We both stop and glance at each other. Then away. I chuckle. “You first or me? I’ll let you choose.”
Merritt sucks in a breath, then pauses to take the stick from Sunbeam’s mouth where he’s nudging it toward her hand. Merritt gives it a big throw, and Sunbeam bolts after it.
“I went to New York to take care of loose ends. Said goodbye to my work friend, got rid of the stuff in my storage unit, all that. I'm done there.”
Hope rises like a bird out of a thicket, wings thrashing, desperate for the clear skies above.
“Yeah?”
“A man of one word.” Merritt gives me a smile before tossing the stick again for Sunbeam.
“He won’t leave you alone now. He’s going to bring you that stick forever.”
“I hope so,” she says, and again, I feel that thrashing in my chest.
Maybe it’s not hope but my heart.
