Page 7 of When We Had Forever
Oh. Well. In that case, she’s going to be pissed.
But we can argue it out later, once it’s all said and done. “Look, I’ll text you in half an hour, okay?”
“Okay.” She tenses up all over again. “But... Don’t do anything stupid, all right?”
Just before hanging up, I say, “I won’t.”
Except...I absolutely will. I’ve waited my entire life for this. I can’t let the opportunity slip through my fingers now.
I pelt from the house with my quilted purple roller-bag in tow. Luckily, I’ve chosen sensible shoes for my first day, and my shiny black flats slap against the sidewalk as the suitcase clatters behind me.
My thighs burn. Sweat beads my forehead. But my breath comes deep and even, because if there’s one thing I excel at—besides daydreaming about places I’ve never seen—it’s running like hell.
Cars honk as I careen through one intersection after another. The boardwalk rimming the beach comes into view. I hurtle onto it and burst through the door of Seaside House, a dusty blue Victorian bed-and-breakfast with a nightly price tag somewhere in the four-hundred-dollar range. Now Iambreathing hard, but I ignore it and pull my phone out again: 7:58.
Not too shabby.
I glance around. A bank of windows overlooks the beach, where early risers pick through whitewashed driftwood. Round tables topped with lacy cloths dot the room. Two women with flawless salon highlights sit nearby, sipping from steaming coffee cups. I don’t recognize them, which gives me hope.
“Hi.” I finger-comb my hair, trying to make myself at least halfway presentable. “You wouldn’t happen to know a Michael Drake, would you?”
They frown at my heaving chest and sweat-dampened collar.
“Who’re you?” one says. “And why’re you looking for Michael?”
A breath bubbles out. It sounds like they know him, at least. “My name’s Mina. Do you work with him? I’m trying to catch a ride.”
They exchange a surprised look. “Are you a friend of his? Or...?”
“No,” I say. “We just met yesterday, but he’s heading home this morning, and I desperately need to get to Seattle.”
“Oh.” The first woman’s tone softens. “I think he’s still out running. He left about an hour ago, and I haven’t seen him since. Unless he sneaked in through the back.”
The second woman sips her coffee. “Even if he was here, though, I wouldn’t bother. You won’t get anywhere with him.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Well, Sarah asked if she could carpool with him this morning, and he blew her off.”
The first woman—Sarah, apparently—nods. “And not in a nice way. I mean, he’s always been kinda standoffish. But something’s been seriously off with him lately. I swear he’s spent the past month outright avoiding everyone.”
“Except Ben,” the other interjects.
Sarah nods. “Yeah. Except Ben. Anyway, Michael made it pretty clear he wanted to drive alone today. Sorry. I wish I had better news. But honestly...he’s kind of an arrogant asshole, anyway. You’re better off going with someone else.”
Panic whirls in my stomach. “I don’t have anyone else to ask.”
Sarah’s look turns sympathetic. “I’d say you could come with us, but Brooke”—she gestures at her friend—“drives a Miata. Only two seats. Good luck, though.”
“Thanks.” I try to gulp down the sudden throb in my throat. Michael offered me a ride himself, but maybe he’s changed his mind. Still, I have to try. Asshole or no, he’s my only option. “I’ll check to see if he’s out front. Have a nice breakfast.”
I leave as they dig into their waffles. Outside, my phone shows 8:02.
The numbers jab at my gut. Michael’s toned physique makes me suspect he’s no stranger to self-discipline, and the fact that he went running at 7:00 a.m. while on a retreat only strengthens that theory. Which means if he said he’s leaving at eight, he was probably serious.
I scan the parking lot. Sunlight glints off metal car hoods, and in the far corner...
My pulse jolts. Beneath a stand of lodgepole pines, a blond head ducks into something low and blue. An engine roars.
