Page 104 of Sand in My Boots

That’s not what I want.

“No. I don’t want the money. It was a gift.”

“One I don’t deserve.”

Any comeback dies on my tongue. I can’t make him understand how he deserves this if he truly believes he doesn’t. We can’t keep having the same disagreement. However, he’s not paying me back. I stand by that.

An alert on his watch sounds. As he makes it stop, he sighs heavily. “It’s time to go. I didn’t think this would be how I’d leave.”

“‘Kay.” The one syllable is all I can muster, and I can’t address the latter part of his statement. My legs like jelly, I force them to stand. He hasn’t moved, still staring out at the horizon. “Do you want to grab food on the way?”

“Maybe run through a drive-thru. The Burrito Shack looked good.”

“Sure.” My tone is lackluster, matching the way I feel. I’m going through the motions, pretending I’m remotely okay with not knowing where we stand. Where we go from here.

At the doorway, he catches me, wrapping his arms around my front. “We could have been something special. You and me.” One squeeze is all he allows himself to give before hurrying off.

With the wind knocked out of my sails, I grab hold of the doorjamb.

Did I set myself up for disaster by not telling him? Does he truly think we’ll be better off without each other? Does he not realize he’s made me feel things for him I’ve never felt before? And now what? Am I supposed to forget about him?

Forget about the way my heart skips a beat whenever he enters a room.

Forget about how he makes me laugh, even when he’s poking fun at me.

Forget about the chemistry between us.

Forget about all these feelings, like being with him was a blip on my radar.

While all of those things might prove true, he’s not hiding his emotions from me. He’s highly affected, too.

Maybe time and distance will get him to see the truth, allow him to come to a place where he can accept the gift he’s been given and be okay with it.

A lot hangs on maybe.

Not wanting to cry in front of him, I take two minutes to calm myself, to clear the evidence of despair from my expression.

Inside, Cameron stands by the door, his bag on his shoulder, ready to go. The sight is almost enough to trigger more tears, but I will them back.

“Do you mind driving? I’ll plug our destination into the GPS.”

“Sure.” It’s half-hearted at best, but I can’t ask for more.

A quick run through the drive-thru at The Burrito Shack and then A Latte Perks, and we’re on the way to the airport. There’s hardly any traffic at this time of day, and we arrive way sooner than we should.

As much as a swift exit is best, I direct him to Park and Wait Lot. Cameron parks the car, letting it idle. His eyes stare out the windshield, his stubble grown in more than an hour ago. His hands grip the wheel tightly, his knuckles almost white.

“I never said thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” comes my automatic reply.

“For the⁠—”

I cut him off. “I know.”

“I feel like we did this scene already. It wasn’t supposed to go this way again.”

Then why is it? I want to scream.