My phone honks again, and I break off with a soft curse.
“Sorry. One second.” I answer the phone with a terse, “Hello again, Maddie.”
“Okay, problem solved,” Maddie chirps happily, oblivious to the fact that I’m in the middle of getting dumped. “Jake had Faith’s mom’s information, so he jumped online and booked her a flight back to Atlanta. It leaves at nine a.m. so you two can drop her at the airport and then head to your hotel. The rooms are already booked and paid for. I’ll text you the address and confirmation number as soon as we hang up. And Jake is going to pick Faith’s mom up in Atlanta this afternoon and bring her home, so you don’t have to worry about that, either. Everything’s sorted!”
I barely suppress a groan. “You shouldn’t have done all that.”
“Just say thank you and promise you’ll drive safe,” Maddie says.
“Thank you,” I say, figuring what’s done is done. And it’s hard to get mad at them for “managing me” when they’re all so generous and willing to pitch in to help. “Tell Naomi and Jake thank you, too.”
“I will,” Maddie says. “Say hi to Faith for me.”
“Will do.” I end the call and turn to Faith, unsure how to pick up where we left off. And honestly, not really wanting to. Finally, I say, “Maddie says hi.”
“I heard that.” She sucks in a breath and blows out a long stream of air between her pursed lips. “I heard the rest of it, too. I don’t know how in the world I’m going to pay Jake and Naomi back for all that. A last-minute flight must have cost an arm and a leg.”
“You don’t have to worry about paying Naomi back,” I say, cutting in when she starts to argue. “She has more than enough money, and she likes to use it to help people. If you fight her about it, you’ll only hurt her feelings.”
“I get that, but…” She sighs. “It doesn’t feel right. Nothing about this feels right.”
“Apparently.” Cursing myself again for fucking this up, I glance down at the phone as it buzzes and Maddie’s text with the hotel name and address comes through.
I stare at the screen for much longer than it takes to read the info, hating the awkward silence in the truck. Hating even more that it’s my fault.
I’ve been acting like a fucking idiot.
This isn’t what I want. I don’t want to hold someone as cool as Faith at a distance, and I’m not usually the kind of guy who wants to “get a woman out of my system” like she’s some kind of virus that needs to be wiped out with a mega-dose of Vitamin C.
I can’t blame Faith for not liking the way things are going.
I don’t like the way things are going.
And I’m not thrilled with who I’ve become in the aftermath of Hurricane Bridget. I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same optimistic, trusting person I was before everything went down with my ex, but I don’t want to be this guy.
This guy sucks.
And he’s about to fuck up his chances with a really amazing person.
“I got out of a really bad relationship last year,” I say, sensing radical honesty is my best, and maybe, only, option. “It messed me up pretty bad.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that the other day.” Her eyes remain firmly on the road. “And I’m sorry about that, but…”
“But?” I prompt.
“Well, not to be a jerk, but that’s not my problem. I still am who I am, and I know what I want. And what I don’t want.”
“You’re absolutely right,” I say. “It’s not your problem. It’s my problem because I’m letting all that emotional hangover bullshit ruin this and make you feel like shit.”
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t feel like shit.”
I shoot her a hard look across the darkened cab and she adds, “Okay, maybe a little like shit.”
“I’m so sorry for that. That’s the last thing I want to do. I meant what I said that night at the ball—kissing you is…something special. You’re special and I should have been making you feel that way. Not acting like a fucking coward.”
“It’s okay to be gun shy after you’ve been hurt,” Faith says softly, still not taking her eyes from the road. “I get that, but I—”
“I really like you,” I cut in, wishing we could pull over to have this talk so I can look her in the eye, but knowing we don’t have time to waste if we’re going to get her mom to the airport on time. “We have fun together,” I continue when she doesn’t respond. “And I don’t want to lose the chance to see where this could go because I was afraid I’d end up in a bad situation again.”
“I’m not your ex.”