Page 97 of Make It Last

“Fuck,” I breathed. Anger slammed through me, cold and sharp.

I removed Ava’s number from the blocked list and promptly changed my password. Clearly, I’d been naive about Laney.

I didn’t dally and grabbed a backpack, tossed in some clothes, and booked the first direct flight I could find to Seattle. On the drive to the airport, I called Laney.

She answered on the second ring. “Tanner,” she said, her voice was like nails on a chalkboard to me now.

“I changed the password to my phone account,” I said flatly.

Silence ticked for a few beats. “Tanner, what are you even talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” More silence. “I’m a dumbass,” I added. “We were already over for good, but I never assumed you’d pull something like that.”

“Tanner—”

“Don’t,” I cut in. “Just don’t.”

She exhaled shakily. “I just?—”

“We’re not doing this again. This is bullshit. What did you think you were going to get by blocking Ava’s number?” She didn’t answer. “Love isn’t a game,” I continued. “Relationships are work. That’s the part you never understood. You thought it was supposed to be easy and fun all the time.” Her breath hitched. “It’s not going to be with me,” I said firmly. “But I hope you figure that out for yourself.”

What felt like a ringing silence stretched between us on the call. “I’ve gotta go,” I added. “If you stay in town, I’m sure I’ll see you around. I hope you can be gracious.”

I hung up before she could respond. At the airport, waiting to board, adrenaline finally gave way to a hint of hope.

I sent another text to Ava.

Me: I missed you. I love you. I’ll see you soon.

After I tapped send, I added another message.

Me: If you’re wondering why you didn’t get my texts before, it’s fixed now. I’ll explain when I see you.

Chapter Forty-Six

Ava

He’s here. For me.

I read and reread Tanner’s text, my heart racing faster each time. I finally replied.

Me: I miss you and love you too. Can’t wait to hear what happened with our texts.

“Ava.” Slipping my phone into my pocket, I spun around to see my mother standing beside the boxes I’d taped up earlier.

“Yeah?”

“We’re going to miss you.”

My lips curled at the corners. “I’ll miss you too, Mom.”

“I’m happy for you. When do you leave?”

“I just made my flight reservations for tomorrow. I’m taking all this to the delivery place this afternoon to ship up to Alaska.” I gestured to the small stack.

“It’s not very much,” she pointed out.

I looked at the boxes. “I don’t have much, Mom.”