“We’ll be better than fine,” he whispered back. “We’ll… We’ll make it, Rett. I swear.”
He didn’t want to. God, he yearned to keep her there with him forever. But instead, he kissed her again, then he released her. She slowly climbed off the bed, and he followed suit. A green coupe idled at the edge of the street out front; Matthew sat behind the wheel, waiting for his daughter. Rett stopped and turned to face Calum once more.
“Promise me, Cal.”
“I promise I will never stop loving you and we’ll be great. Wewill. You promise me something.”
“Anythin’.”
“Don’t go kissing anybody else.”
“Only you,” she said with a watery laugh. “I swear, no one else ever.”
One last kiss, then she hurried down the sidewalk to slide into the passenger seat. Calum watched the car disappear around the corner, then dropped to sit on the top step. What was he supposed to do now?
fifteen
Rett
RETT STARED DOWN AT the ring on her left hand, the small blue gem sparkling faintly in the lights from the radio face. Her father reached over to wrap his fingers around hers, squeezing gently. She forced a smile before turning her face to the window. He didn’t need to see her tears.
“It’ll be okay, Retta.”
“I know.”
But she didn’t. She didn’t know how it would all end up. Would she and Calum really make it through four years of her being away, only coming back for holidays and summers? Could they withstand the distance? They wouldn’t see each other except for a few weeks at a time, and she wouldn’t be able to call every day—running up Georgie’s phone bill was a non-option. She wouldjust have to deal with it. Maybe letters could help ease the pain of being so far away.
Neither Matthew nor Rett spoke as they sat in the car outside the station, waiting for the bus that would take her far away from home. From all she had known for eighteen and a half years. From her family and friends and her husband. God, leaving Calum felt too much like an open wound in her soul already. She sniffed back tears and tapped her fingers on her thigh.
The bus arrived twenty minutes later with no fanfare. Rett climbed out of the car and tugged her suitcase from the backseat. It caught on the edge of the doorframe, and she gave it one more yank before it popped free. The bus driver took her luggage with a smile, tucking it away in the compartment beneath the bus, and Rett turned to her father. He brushed away a tear from her cheek.
“Call when you get there, ’kay? Your mama and I’ll be waiting.”
“I promise. I’ll even call you before I call Calum.”
He huffed out a laugh that trembled then pulled her in for a tight hug. “Love you, Retta.”
“Love you, too, Daddy.”
Rett didn’t look back as she climbed the steps to the bus, nor did she look out the window as the bus pulled away. She knew seeing her father’s face as he let her go would have hurt too much. She would have demanded to be let off the bus, given up her scholarship and place at school, and spent her entire life wondering how far she could have gone.
She needed more than that.
So she didn’t look.
Trees abruptly gave way to open fields. Cows dotted the expanse of gray-green beneath an ever-lightening sky. The navy receded slowly as pinks and golds stretched across the horizon. Rett swallowed harshly, throat tightening, and she squeezed her hands into fists. Her nails bit into her palms, bringing abouta modicum of control. She blinked away the tears before they could fall free. It wasn’t her first sunrise outside of Oak Creek, but it was the first of four years’ worth.
The end of thirteen hours found Rett stepping off the bottom step into the humid, reeking air of the bus depot. She waited for the driver to unload the luggage, grabbed her suitcase, then followed the eleven others who’d been on the bus. The old man who had sat across the aisle walked beside her. She forced a smile only for it to fade once they were no longer side-by-side. There was no need to fake any sort of happiness or contentedness when no one was around.
Arriving at the university was almost anticlimactic after the emotional upheaval of the day. Rett clutched the handle of her suitcase and weaved her way through the small crowd of students lingering in the corridors of the dorm building. No one gave her a second look, only continued their conversations as she passed. Someone laughed aloud, a soft sound that reminded Rett fiercely of Sofia. Her chest ached even as she reached room 23. She swallowed against the tears and pushed open the door.
Someone had already moved their belongings in. A duffel bag and a suitcase sat on the bed closest to the door. A stack of books rested on a desk that Rett figured came with the room—its twin sat against the far wall. She lugged her suitcase across the room and hefted it onto the unclaimed bed. Chest tight, she dropped to sit beside her luggage.
College was what she’d worked toward her entire life. It was never an option tonotgo. But now that it was time, Rett nearly regretted the decision. She already missed home, and the longing was a pervasive, rooted thing deep in her chest. It oozed through her until she felt as if she would drown in the homesickness. She swallowed thickly and dug her cellphone from her pocket.
Hearing her parents’ voices, tinny though they were through the connection, both helped ease the pain while exacerbating the want to be home again. Once she promised to call them again on the weekend, Rett dialed the number she’d never needed to know before.
Calum wasn’t home, and Georgie swore to tell him Rett had called the second he stepped through the door. It was all Rett could do to accept it. She forced a smile, though Georgie couldn’t see it, and ended the call. She dropped the phone onto the bed beside her and picked at a hangnail on her thumb as she stared out the window. There was nothing interesting outside, but it allowed her mind to clear itself. It let her stop thinking for a little while.
