Page 133 of Just One Season
“Actually,” I say, because the silence is too much. “I just got the England job offer.”
“Aww.” Bri’s eyebrows furrow for a split second. She crosses her arms and leans against the doorframe. “Congratulations. We’ll miss you if you accept it.”
“I’m going to accept it,” I say firmly. But whether or not I’m trying to convince her or myself is unclear.
“Good for you.” But Bri’s not smiling, just watching me.
“And it’s my dream job. Exactly what I want to do. Where I want to go. It’s perfect for me.” My voice hitches on the last word. With horror, I realize my eyes are filling with tears. I swallow hard and fight like hell to keep the tears in my eyes instead of dripping down my cheeks.
“Well. Before you go, maybe you should talk to him.”
“Him?” As if I don’t know exactly who she’s talking about.
“Kellen.” She says it slowly, stretching out his name, like she’s explaining something to her kindergartener.
“About what?” I truly don’t know. That chapter of my life is closed. Done and dusted. Completely over. “About the job?”
Bri shrugs.
“About me leaving?”
She shrugs again and cocks her head.
“About the fake dating?”
“Hmm. Was it?”
My throat tightens and warmth floods my cheeks. I bury a hand in my hair and push curls off my forehead.
“I don’t know.” I groan and shut my eyes.
“I do. And I think you do too.” Bri fishes her phone out of her pocket and looks at the screen. “I gotta run.” She lifts a hand and disappears from my doorway.
What was that about? As if I need another thing to think about.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I need to face Kellen before I leave. I don’t know what I’ll say to him. Certainly not that I love him. But maybe some closure will do me good.
I can’t wait to get out of this town. That’s the real closure I need. A plane ticket.
There’s an empty cardboard box in the corner of my office. It’s been there since I arrived in September. I grab it and start putting my few personal belongings in the box.
Obviously I don’t need to pack right now. I haven’t accepted the job and even when I do, I’ll have time to tie up all my loose ends here.
But packing up my office is a symbol for moving on. Leaving. Filling boxes is when things get real.
And things just got really real.
I have two mugs on my desk, one is a DC FC mug with the team logo on it, the other a Blizzard mug with afierce abominable snowman pictured on one side and the sayingLet’s Goon the other.
Both of them go in the box.
A picture of me and my mom and Atticus from Christmas a few years ago. Another framed picture of me, January and Raleigh, this one from this past New Year’s Eve.
My chest aches as I move it all into the box.
CHAPTER 38
An Important Question
