Page 57 of Stops Along the Way
“What are you saying? Because what I’m hearing is a lot of leaps. Like, I promise things always turn out fine with my sister. And you and me are good.” I reach out to take hold of his hand, but he pulls away.“Oh.”
Declan’s conclusion dawns on me slowly. He’s calling it quits, and I don’t fully understand why.
I get that it’s his choice. Yet we could’ve talked about it first, right? Figured it out together, like a team. But that’s the whole point—he doesn’t want to be a team. He doesn’t have to consult me…to decide to end things with me.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, laying his arms on the table as though surrendering. “I don’t think I’d be a good boyfriend right now.”
“Hmm.” I blink several times, not prepared for this at all. He’s framing it like it has nothing to do with me, but that could just be him trying to let me down easy. I thought he liked me. He apparently doesn’t like me enough to want to be with me. Even though this whole thing was his idea to begin with, wasn’t it?
Admittedly, didn’t I sort of pry it out of him? In the hot tub, when he said he had something to tell me, he immediately chickened out until I insisted that he say whatever it was he wanted to say. It’s not like I forced him to tell me, though.
He didn’thaveto tell me. We didn’thaveto be in this position right now.
Either way, we’re over before we ever really started.
I refuse to let Declan see me cry. I hop down from the tall barstool chair and walk toward the rental counter, my ponytail swaying in my wake.
“Where are you going?” he calls after me.
“To rent a freaking pair of skates. BecauseIwant to roller-skate.”
“Okay.” Declan slides off the chair and takes a few steps to follow me. “It’s just that I don’t know how to roller-skate.”
“Good thing I didn’t invite you to join,” I call over my shoulder.
The worker, who definitely heard the latter half of our conversation, guesses my shoe size correctly and slides them to me across the counter as I hand her the cash. I find a seat in a lower chair closer to the rink’s entry and lace up my skates tightly until I might cut off the circulation in my feet, which seems impossible because of how worn out these old rentals are. But the skates do keep my ankles secure as I stand with a wobble and slowly march my way from the carpet onto the smooth wooden flooring.
I hold on to the wall for a few paces until I get the hang of things, then round the bend, going slowly, where I observe Declan sitting back at the table, not on his phone or anything, just staring down at the floor.
Maybe I should’ve complained about Amelia less. Maybe I should’ve been more attentive to asking about what was goingon with his family. Or maybe this was always the inevitable outcome and I should just be glad the Band-Aid was ripped off quickly before it’d take too much of my skin along with it.
I want to be mad at him, but right now Declan seems so sad.
With my shoulder, I try to discreetly wipe away the water pooling in my eyes, but it throws me off balance, and I rush into the wall to avoid falling to the floor. It must’ve been a loudthunk, because Declan looks my way.
I hold my head high and skate around again.
And again, and again, gaining confidence with each lap, floating into a sort of meditative state as my mind replays the conversation with Declan, except with my own imagined flourishes—additional questions, or anger, or compassion—until I’ve altered the outcome so many times that my memory can’t be certain exactly how it all went down in reality.
Chapter Seventeen
I don’t leave the roller rink until I get a call from what I assume is the auto shop. I answer the unknown number, but I can’t hear what’s being said, so I wave to Declan and lean over the wall to pass him my phone. Then I exit and return the rental skates, Declan trailing half a foot behind me as we walk back over to the mechanic without saying a word. We hop in the car, and the GPS says it’ll be a smooth, no-traffic four hours back to Omaha.
For the first half, we listen to the radio since I can’t be bothered to put on a playlist. What songs would even fit this vibe? Trapped in a car with a guy who is causing me emotional whiplash, having gone from a friendly rival I had no romantic interest in to being a guy I’ve kissed and am developing feelings for but anything between us is over before it even really started.
Sure, Taylor Swift probably has something close, but the last thing I need right now is Declan trying to scrutinize my song choice.
It’s just, like, a week ago, this entire set of circumstances would’ve baffled me, yet right now I’m so stuck in it that I can’t see the forest for the trees.
Halfway through, we top off the gas tank and switch drivers, and Declan puts in his home address as our next stop. He breaks the silence with what he incorrectly assumes might be a neutral topic. “When would you be interested in putting together the final touches before submitting the road trip board game? We could meet at Roll Again.”
He thinks we’re still doing that? We did most of the work already, and there’s no reason not to other than…I don’t want to. And that’s a good enough reason for me right now.
“It doesn’t seem original enough, honestly.”
Declan pulls away from the station and stares forward at the road, switching lanes to get us over to the highway on-ramp. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think we should finish it, actually,” I say, trying to keep my voice level, which isn’t hard, because I feel utterly deflated.
