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“Where are you going? They’re about to start.”
Wes’s hiss followed me as I made my way to the foyer.
I didn’t stop. I just kept walking out of the church, past the confused glances of the greeters who had welcomed me just moments before, and out to my car. But where was I supposed to go?
Mom had made it clear that as much as she appreciated my support and love, she had to learn how to manage on her own and that this was hers to walk through. I suspected she was trying to keep from saying something bad about Dad or influencing my future relationship with him in a negative manner.
I snorted.
Like there was going to be a future relationship.
I started the car, backed out of my spot, and headed toward the main roads. I wouldn’t go see Mom, but I didn’t want to go home. I’d spent entirely too much time cooped up in those walls lately. After Megan’s visit on Monday, I’d limited myself to work—where my office door stayed firmly closed and I only talked to people when they came looking for me—and home. Work and home. Work and home. It was already more of a rut than a routine, but what was I supposed to do?
Megan didn’t want to see me until I was out of my funk. Mom didn’t need me. Mom also didn’t seem to realize how much I needed her. I might be an adult, but no one seemed to understand that Dad’s choice had shaken my foundations.
I was wobbling. And I was fairly certain it wouldn’t take much more before I crashed completely.
The green sign on the side of the road caught my eye, and I eased over so I could exit. A few turns and I was pulling into the parking lot at Gravelly Point Park. Like a miracle, someone was in the process of pulling out of a spot. I zipped a little to ensure I was in line and snagged it as they left. A car turning into the row blared its horn at me as it passed, the driver adding in some sign language to express their displeasure.
I just finished parking and cut the engine. That was the one good thing about the fog—other people’s emotions couldn’t penetrate it. It just trapped mine inside and amplified them.
I wormed through the cars and made my way to the grassy field, looking for a spot away from the happy couples and families who’d decided to brave the slight chill and spend their Sunday morning watching the planes use the Potomac River as a guide to the runways of Reagan National.
I found a spot, sat, then laid back, pillowing my head on my arms, and stared at the sky. It was cloudy today. The breeze off the water was chilly enough to remind me it was November. The distant whine of engines grew louder. And louder. And louder. Then the belly of a plane, landing gear lowered, soared over me, almost appearing close enough to touch if I wanted to reach up and jump. Scant minutes later, another plane soared overhead, this one with its landing gear retracting as it took off and headed to points unknown.
Maybe that was what I ought to do.
Would a change of scene get me away from the fog? Would it do something to thaw the thick walls of ice that seemed to encase me?
Mom would call it running away. But what was so bad about that, really?
I’d lain there for close to ninety minutes as countless planes flew in and out in the skies above, when someone bounced a sneaker off my hip before sitting.
“Hey!” I turned and focused on the interloper, grimacing when I saw it was Wes. “Why are you here?”
“Because I’m the one who guessed where you’d be. Noah, Scott, Austin, and Tristan all went to different spots. Hang on while I text them that I found you.”
I scowled and pushed to a sitting position. My phone didn’t chime with a notification, so I turned and glared at him. “So now you all have a group chat that doesn’t include me? Nice.”
“Get over yourself, man. Did you really want to be included in our discussion of where to find you in the middle of your sulk fest? Which, by the way, is not a good look.” Wes plopped on the ground beside me. “Also? It’s cold. Why are you sitting out in the cold?”
“It’s nice. It’s probably in the sixties. Get a grip.” I was going to ignore everything else he’d said, because it was ridiculous. And mean. “I’m not sulking.”
Okay, fine. I didn’t ignore all of it.
Wes snorted. “Keep telling yourself that.”
I shifted slightly so he wasn’t directly in my line of sight. Why did it have to be Wes? Why couldn’t Noah or Tristan have found me? Or even Austin. Or Scott. Really, anyone who wasn’t Wes.
Wes’s sneaker connected with my leg. “Spit it out so we can move on.”
“Seriously?” I turned to look at him. “That’s your tactic? Just go away. You found me. I’m fine. Mission accomplished.”
“Not how it works. You know that.”
I sighed. The problem was, he was right. We were friends, and we helped each other. Of course, in the past, I’d believed that was when the person in question actuallywantedto be helped. But whatever. He meant well. “It’s not going to matter.”
“Okay. Then it won’t matter. Spill anyway.”
