Page 30 of Rebel Bride
I took a seat beside her, one of those plastic deals that dug into my hockey butt. Now that I was here, I wasn’t sure what my play was. Wish her well? Persuade her to stay? Something else?
“Are those Aurora’s clothes?”
With a nod, she pulled down on the brim of a Detroit Motors ball cap, one of the Rebels’ biggest rivals in the league. “I was going to wash and return them when I get to Chicago.”
“Were you planning to see Carter?”
“I just spoke to him. He’s heading to St. Bart’s with family, so I think he’s in good hands.”
She sounded a touch bitter. Annoyed, perhaps, that he wasn’t begging her to return?
“How did that go?”
“It was a tense conversation. He’s obviously hurt about what I did. I’ll give him a day or two to settle before I try again.”
Silence fell, neither of us in the mood to fill it, though it wasn’t awkward. I came from a talkative family, and we were all chatty, except for Adeline who was the quiet one. I liked not having to compete for air. The station was empty except for an old guy with a walrus mustache on a bench a few feet away. He squinted at us, then went back to his newspaper.
A slow rumble started up, the noise of the incoming train. Summer looked at her ticket, then out at the track.
“I should go.” She stood and stepped away, and my feet followed, drawn to her like a bee to nectar. I had to right this ship, eliminate my feelings from the matter. She needed someone in her corner, so the first step toward that was to offer assistance.
“Summer, stay.” And because that sounded weird, I added, “Take some time for yourself. When’s the last time you did that?”
She blinked in surprise, either at my apparent care for her well-being or the acknowledgment she might not have engaged in much self-care lately.
“I can’t impose any longer.” But she sounded less sure than before.
“It’s not an imposition. You’re a guest of the Kershaws.” Putting it that way made it seem less personal. Just one of my family’s many waifs and strays.
The train pulled into the station. It had been a while since I took it, but my recollection was that it would wait for two or three minutes. She turned to me, eyes wide and shiny, filled with emotion I didn’t know what to do with.
“Last night, I was too harsh,” I said. “It’s none of my business. You and Carter.”
“You feel loyalty to him. I understand. And I hate that I’ve put you in this position.”
“I knew what I was doing.”
Our gazes locked, some new knowledge passing between us. Eventually you had to admit that circumstances weren’t the boss of you and that you had a certain level of control over your actions.
I didn’t have to drive her out of that church parking lot.
I didn’t have to squire her all the way to Saugatuck.
And I certainly didn’t have to drive to the station to beg her to stay.
But I did. Time to own it.
“I don’t have any money. The ATM just ate my card.” She gestured at a machine in the waiting room.
“Not your week, is it?”
That made her laugh. I joined in, and for a moment, we were on the same page. Walrus Stache got on the train, and it slowly pulled out of the station.
“Looks like I’m staying. I’m really grateful, Hatch.”
I released a held breath, my relief both palpable and annoying.
“How about we get some coffee?”
