Chapter 45
Cliff
C opper Run's sign gets smaller and smaller until I can't make it out through the sticks and bare trees. I know I'll be coming back, but I'll be coming back without her.
We talk the whole ride to the airport—everything from recent news to Copper Run gossip. I make sarcastic comments, and she laughs, as always, her head beautifully falling back on the headrest. I hold her hand the entire time, stroking my thumb over the back of hers, holding as tight as I can.
The tall buildings appear faster than I would like. Planes take off on runways in the distance, booming overhead. The drop-off car line is long and agonizing. My nerves pick up in my chest, and I can tell hers do, too, because she starts running Birdie's pendant over the chain. I kiss the back of her knuckles.
"It's fine," I whisper.
She nods quickly, over and over.
Rocket is restless in the seat, walking over her thighs to mine, pressing his nose to the window, leaving wet nose marks against the glass.
"Rocket," I say through a laugh, lifting up to peer over his body.
Michelle claps her hands. "Rocket, let him drive."
Suddenly whining, he paces back to her, pressing his muzzle against her window instead.
We finally pull to the curb, and I put on my emergency lights. I look over at her. She's already staring at me, absentmindedly stroking Rocket's fur as his paws shake on her thigh.
I reach out to bury my palm in her hair.
"Come here," I murmur.
She leans across the bench seat, pressing her lips to mine. The kiss is slow and lingering and doesn't last nearly long enough.
I lean my forehead against hers. "This is good," I whisper.
She nods. "Yeah." But it doesn't sound sure.
I force a laugh. "You're Michelle. You're going to thrive out there, like you always have."
She silently nods against me.
I want to keep holding her, but a car behind me honks, and I groan.
"Time to go, huh?" I say with a laugh.
She doesn't return it, instead repeating a small, "Yeah."
I open the door and shut it back before Rocket can jump out. He's a wild card today, and I'm not risking it. I lean over the side of the truck bed and pull out her suitcases, lowering them to the ground with a definitive thunk . She stares at me, and I let out an exhale with a smile.
I throw my thumb back to the truck. "Rocket kinda ruined my chances of walking you to your gate."
She looks at the ground, playing with the long strap of her purse with a breathy laugh. "I know."
I'm mentally cursing that dang dog, but I know he wanted to see her off. I couldn't deny him that.
I walk forward, pulling her into my chest and placing my chin on her head. "I'm so excited for you."
My heart is pounding. I can feel it thrumming in my ears. But I can't show her this is killing me. She doesn't need that right now.
"Watch the inn, will you?" she murmurs, tilting her head to the side. "I know Sara is gonna … I don't know … burn the biscuits or …" She sniffs and looks at the sky, shaking her head. "God, she won't pay the bills—I know it. Make sure she checks the mail daily."
I chuckle. "I'll check it for her."
"And the honeymoon quilts. Don't let her forget those."
"The ugly pink things. Got it."
She smacks my arm, and I chuckle as she buries her face in my chest again. My nose stings, but I can't be sad. I have to be certain for her. I have to be.
"Take care of my favorite place, okay?"
I laugh. "I will."
"Okay," she says, swallowing. "Okay. I'm gonna go."
"Call me when you land?"
I kiss her again, and she clutches my arms so tight that I wonder if it'll bruise.
"I'll talk to you soon," she says, and the words sound almost strained. Desperate.
I've never heard that sound from her before.
I cup her cheek and kiss her again.
I love you.
"I'll miss you," I say instead. It's easier. Kinder.
She grabs the handles of both suitcases with whitened knuckles and shaking hands. I place my palms over them.
"I'll see you sooner than either of us can blink," I reassure her.
"You're right," she says with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "I know."
Michelle shakes her head and laughs. Then, finally, she turns, dragging both suitcases behind her, and walks away.
My breath catches. My nose stings. My chin is wobbling.
Michelle turns around to see me again, and I let out a choked exhale. I hope she can't hear it.
I force a smile and hold up my pinkie and thumb, wagging my hand beside my ear and mouthing, Call me .
She laughs, turns back around, and walks through the sliding doors into the airport. I stand there for a moment or two, staring at the empty space she left behind, then climb back in my truck.
The drive back to Copper Run is so quiet compared to the drive with Michelle. Rocket sits stoically in the passenger seat, staring at the bare winter trees flying past. He doesn't make a sound and doesn't move an inch. I'll need a drink with Lars the moment I get back.
I flick through the radio stations, one right after the other, then pause when Eddie Vedder's voice croons from the speakers. Pearl Jam's "Black."
And that's when it all hits me.
She's not here.
She's not here.
And suddenly, I'm choking through tears as they fall shamelessly down my cheeks. My eyes burn. My vision blurs. I'm sniffling and coughing and gripping the wheel tighter.
Rocket gingerly walks across the bench seat, stepping onto my lap to sit. I inhale and exhale shaky breaths, resting my chin on his shoulder, sniffling over and over. Rocket twists and tries to lick the tears from my cheeks. I can barely see the road.
The driver behind me lays down on his horn. I realize I'm going ten under the speed limit. I pull off to the side of the highway.
As the car angrily revs past, I feverishly roll down the window and stick out my middle finger, croaking out, "Yeah, keep moving, buddy!"
I lay my forehead on the wheel, tightening my grip and loosening it. Rocket tries to shove his head under my arms. I lift my head up, draw in a deep breath, and slide my palm down my face, dragging my cheeks with it.
"All right." I sniff. "Let's pull it together, right, boy?"
I reach for the glove box to find napkins to blot my messy tears, but when I jerk it open, glossy photos flutter out and fall to the floorboard. I bend down, but staring up at me is Michelle.
My breath hitches as I snatch the photo. It's us on Halloween. I'm in my black costume cloak, holding that scary mask in one hand. My red flannel pokes out under the sleeves. I look silly, but Michelle—standing across from me with her palm over her mouth—is absolutely radiant. She's laughing with me, her smile so broad that her eyes squint. She only gets that type of laugh when she's so happy that it's hard to keep it in.
She looks so happy.
God, I love her.
I blink through my thoughts, zooming past in a whirl.
I love her so much. This can't be it. This isn't the end of us.
"I have to tell her," I breathe out. I scuff my feet across the floor mat to sit up straighter. I slam my palms on the steering wheel. "Damn it!"
Rocket starts pacing back and forth again, whining. I peer at him from the corner of my eye. He barks in my face.
"Yeah," I agree. "Let's go, mutt."
I push Rocket back, pull down the seat belt to buckle him in, and slam the car into gear. I rip the wheel to one side. His ears fly back. The truck skids us back onto the two-lane highway, fishtailing into the opposite lane. I slam my foot on the pedal, and we take off.