Tangle (Dogwood Lane 2)

He holds my gaze like only he can, pleading with me without any words. It reminds me of what Jen said about couples who make it and how they can communicate in the quiet moments.

I’ll have to tell her she’s wrong.

“Your bill is covered,” Claire says, stopping in front of me.

“By who?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Her gaze flips cold as she looks at Trevor. “Do you want something more than to torture my best friend?”

“Claire . . .” His shoulders fall. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t tell me, fuckhead. Tell her.”

He shrugs. “She doesn’t want to hear it.”

“I want to hear it less.” She narrows her eyes as she walks away, leaving me alone with him.

I rise from the stool. “I need to go.”

“Please, talk to me.”

“No.”

I hoist my purse on my shoulder and head to the door. Sunglasses cover my eyes as I step into the light and walk as fast as I can without overtly jogging to my car. I grab the handle, but his hand presses on the top of my car door to keep me from opening it.

“Go away,” I say.

“Just hear me out.”

“I already heard you.” I spin around to face him, knocking his arm off my car in the process. “There was an element of finality in the words you’ve already spoken, Trevor. There’s nothing more to say.”

“Stop talking.”

“Fuck off.”

He starts to grin but wises up just in time. “You’re so mean.”

“Me?” I let out a little shriek in disbelief and pull open the door. The force makes him step away from the car as I climb in.

“Does this mean we aren’t friends?” he asks.

“What do you think?”

“You aren’t answering my texts or calls or emails, so it’s not looking good.”

My heart softens. I turn on the engine and shut the door. Staring out the windshield, I wonder if something might be wrong. He’s not evil. He wouldn’t come back to torture me . . . would he? Would he really come back to be just friends with me?

I told him flat out I was falling in love with him, which is his biggest fear, and yet he’s here. But do I care? I don’t know. I do know I don’t want to do this anymore.

I roll down my window warily. “Is anything wrong?”

“A lot of things are wrong.”

“Let me rephrase that: Is anyone hurt?”

He narrows his eyes. “Yes.”

I roll mine. “Let me rephrase that: Is anyone dying?”

“No.”

“Good, then. We have nothing to talk about.” I shift the car into reverse.

“Haley. Stop.”

“You stop.” My heart hardens again. “I listened to you. I trusted you. I believed in you. And I got treated like Liz.”

His face goes pale.

“That’s what you did,” I tell him. “You treated me just like one of those women you told me fawn all over you and won’t let you go and blah blah blah.” I take my foot off the brake. “Guess what? I’m not them. Maybe I was with Joel. Maybe I was kind of pathetic because I didn’t want to be alone. But now I like myself, Trevor. And maybe I have you to partially thank for that. So thank you. And goodbye.”

“Haley . . .”

I roll up the window and let the car back out. He stands in front of my car and watches me back away.

I don’t know how long he stands there.

I don’t look back, because I’m not doing this anymore.

My purse hits the counter. “If Trevor Kelly comes in today, I’m throwing him out.” I look at Jennifer as I take my sunglasses off. “I’m not kidding.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

“Trouble in something, but it’s not paradise.” I slip off my jacket and fold it. I place it on top of my purse and then slide my things under the counter. “Speaking of paradise, when do you go to Hawaii?”

She finishes up an arrangement she’s working on before looking up at me. “Next week. We got the finalized itinerary last night from the travel agent.”

It would be so nice to lie on the beach with some sun and alcohol and no worries or boys.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii,” I say.

“We went once. On our honeymoon. It was the most amazing time.”

“The farthest I’ve ever been is Austin, and that’s because my dad had some kind of work thing there. We were there for a week, and it was so hot. That’s about all I remember.”

She lifts the vase in front of her and inspects it more carefully than she usually does. She sets it in the cooler in the front. When she comes back, her smile has faltered.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“I have three things I need to talk to you about.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands up. Maybe I’m just on high alert, but something feels wrong. “What?”

“First, I have a delivery I need you to make today. Can you do that?”