Page 94 of Some Like It Fox

I roll my eyes at his increasingly panicked voice. “Calm down. I’m fine. I’m in Reno.”

“I’m sorry, did you say Reno? What are you doing in Reno?”

Sighing, I slump back further in my seat, staring at the minifridge in the back of the bus. “I turned down the job with Silvertongue.”

Shocked silence greets that little pronouncement.

“Jake? You still there?”

“Wha—who—why would you—are you coming home?”

And isn’t that the one-million-dollar question? “I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll stay here for a little bit.” Gamble away my life, pan for gold in Virginia City, maybe bum around in Tahoe for the rest of the summer, who’s to say? Although none of that is appealing at the moment.

He’s quiet again, the line so noiseless I sit up straighter. “Jake? Did I lose you?”

“No. Sorry. I’m here. How far is Reno from Sacramento?”

“I don’t know, like two hours or so.”

“Huh. Okay. So... where exactly are you? In Reno, I mean. Where are you staying? Just in case we need to get ahold of you, or Finley asks, or there’s an emergency, or, you know, whatever.”

I frown. “Why are you being weird?”

“I’m not being weird.” The pitch of his voice goes up three octaves. “I just need to know these things in case Archer tries to bet me again.”

I roll my eyes. Whatever. “I’m staying at the RV park at the Grand Sierra.”

“Okay. All right. Cool. Cool cool cool, look I gotta go, Taylor, I’ll text you later, K bye.”

The phone goes dead. I stare down at it.

What the heck was that all about?

* * *

Three hours later, I’m walking back to the bus from the hotel’s pool. I’m carrying my clothes in one hand, a towel wrapped around my waist, still in my bathing suit. The sun set an hour ago, but it’s still hot outside. I thought a swim would help me cool off or clear my head.

It didn’t work. I’m off-kilter. It’s like I’m stuck in one of those dreams where everything is familiar and yet not, like a mirror image of reality.

There is only one certainty in my heart. I love Atticus. I’ve never loved anyone, not like this. I can’t let it go. I need to go home. I need to see him. Maybe then I’ll find some clarity.

I glance up, and then stagger to a halt.

A large figure sits at the picnic table next to my VW, his eyes fixed on me.

My heart tumbles in my chest. The incongruity of the world around me wavers and flips then resettles and suddenly makes sense.

I burst into tears.

Two seconds later, familiar arms wrap around me, along with the scent of soap and cedar. “Hey,” he murmurs into my hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I shove out of his embrace. “You should be sorry.” I swipe at my eyes. “Why did you let me leave? Why didn’t you ask me to stay? Why didn’t you fight for us?” Each question gets louder and louder.

“Because I love you,” he bursts out. “And I can’t be the reason you’re unhappy.” His voice cracks on the last word.

I stare at him, stunned.

He swallows. “I don’t want to be the reason you stay if it makes you miserable.”

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