Where the Road Takes Me (20 page)

“A lollipop?” he groaned. “Really?”

“It’s to shut you up.”

“I’m not Sammy!” But he opened his mouth and took it anyway.

Two seconds later, he waved the stick in my face, sans lolly. “That didn’t last long. What else you got?”

“It’s a lollipop. You’re supposed to suck it, not bite it.”

“That’s what he said.”

“Pig.” I reached into the bag and pulled out another one. “Suck it this time. Make it last.”

He took the lollipop from my hand. “That’s what he—”

“Shut it.”

He laughed but put the lollipop in his mouth and crossed his arms over his chest. Even when he acted like a kid, he was still stupidly hot.

Blake

We found a hotel to stay at in Myrtle Beach. Even though it was only an hour-and-a-half drive from home, it took us four hours to get there. Most likely because she didn’t believe in maps.

“Did you want to just stay the one night, Blake?”

I shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

“Can we book for two and then go from there?”

The lady behind the desk nodded and took Chloe’s card. I offered to pay. She wouldn’t let me. But something was off, the lady kept eyeing me weird, and I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from asking her what the hell her problem was.

Okay, I was on edge.

I’d been in a car for four hours, and my mind was starting to run a little wild. I was happy I was with Chloe—don’t get me wrong. But I had left a lot of things unfinished at home. And I had left a lot of things
at
home. Like clothes. Running shoes. Josh. Tommy. Mom.

“I mean no disrespect, but are y’all runaways?” the lady asked.

Chloe laughed. “No, ma’am. We’re actually here on our honeymoon.”

My eyes widened, but I tried to hide it when the lady smiled at us, and Chloe wrapped her arms around me. “Well, why didn’t you say so?” the lady asked. Myrtle, her name was.
No shit.
“I’ll upgrade you. No charge.” She held her hand to her heart. “Young love,” she sang. “Bless your hearts.”

I dropped Chloe’s bag in the middle of the room.

She sat on the edge of the bed and kicked her legs out in front of her. “What’s bugging you?”

“Nothing,” I lied.

“I can get another room,” she said quietly. “And I’ll take you home in the morning.”

“What?” My head whipped to hers, but her face was down, watching her feet moving back and forth. “Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know. You just seem like you regret being here.”

My eyes drifted shut, and my shoulders sagged. I felt like an asshole. “I don’t regret it, Chloe. Not for a second.” I pulled the sheets down on one side of the bed and stripped to my boxers. After climbing in, I waited for her to do the same, but she didn’t. She just sat there, frozen. “Chloe?”

She turned to me now, her mouth pulled down into a frown. My insides twisted, and I hated myself, because I knew I was the reason she looked like that. I sat up on my knees and lifted her off the bed, placing her under the covers and into my arms. “I’m an asshole.”

“A little.” She turned so we were face-to-face. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t regret being here with you. Not at all. There’s absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be right now. Believe me. I just didn’t think things through, I guess.”

“Like what?”

“Like clothes, I have no clothes. Right now I want to go for a run to kill the ache from sitting in the car for so long, but I only have my work clothes. And work, I just left. It was my only source of money and now it’s gone. Fuck. I have no money. You can’t pay for everything! I just need—”

“Blake,” she cut in. “There are stores. Stores sell clothes. We can buy clothes. Work will find someone else, easily. And money—I have money. Lots of it.”

“Where
. . .
I mean how do you have all this money?”

She shrugged. “My mom and aunt left it to me. Their parents left it to them. They both died so young they never really got a chance to spend it.”

I frowned, wondering for a moment if
she’d
ever get a chance to spend it. I pushed down the ache that thought had caused and moved on. “You can’t pay my way.”

“It doesn’t cost me any extra to have you here. Hotels, gas—it’s all the same. But like I said, I can take you home tomorrow—”

“No. Fuck, Chloe. I don’t want to be without you. That’s why I’m here.” The desperation in my voice was evident, because it was the truth. And because I was so scared of the day I’d wake up and she wouldn’t be there.

“Okay,” she said.

But the air was still thick, and the mood was still sad. “Chloe?”

“Mmm?” she said into my chest.

I pulled back and lifted her chin with my finger. I made sure she was looking at me before I spoke. “I don’t ever want you to question this—the reason why I’m here—or whether I want to be here or not. Ever. I’m here because I want you. Because I’ve always wanted you.”

Her breath became shaky. “Will you kiss me already?”

I smiled. “You don’t ever have to question that, either.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Blake

“Chloe,” I whispered in her ear. “Chloe. Chloe. Chloe.”

I was bored. Edgy. Anxious.

“Chloe.” I poked her cheek.

Nothing.

“Chloe.” I poked harder. “You sleep like the fucking dead.”

That made her smile.

“Oh cute, pretending to be asleep while I go out of my mind with boredom.”

She sat up. “What the hell time is it?”

I threw my hands up. “I don’t know. Time to get up. Let’s go.”

We couldn’t find a Footlocker, so we ended up at a small sporting-goods store. I didn’t care, just as long as I got a decent pair of running shoes and some extra clothes. She walked around the store while I tried on different sneakers.

“Babe!” she yelled out, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Did you want a basketball?”

“Yeah, good thinking.”

“There’s like eighty here. Which one?”

“A Spalding twenty-nine and a half.”

She laughed. “I have no idea what you just said.”

Shaking my head, I made my way over to her.

“What’s the difference?” she whispered.

I picked up the Spalding. “This one’s a pro ball. Different material, sizes, grip.”

“Oh.” She nodded but then shrugged. “I won’t remember that.” She turned her head, looking around the store. “You should get a skateboard, too,” she said. “We can skate together. How exciting.” She clapped her hands together. Then it dawned on me—that I’d never seen her like this. This happy. This free.

“You mean I’ll skate, and you’ll roll?”

“Hey.” She poked a single finger into my chest. “I’ve been getting better. You even said so. And now I can practice more since I have my own board.” Her eyes widened as she caught sight of something over my shoulder. “Go get the board and meet me at the counter. I need to get something.”

I did as she asked and waited for her at the counter. After a couple of minutes, she was back, wearing a Duke cap too big for her head and holding a few jerseys. She took the cap off and set it on the counter, along with the three basketball jerseys. One blue, one black, and one white. All Duke. “What’s the difference?” she asked the sales clerk.

I stayed silent, waiting for the moment.
You know
. . .
that moment when something significant happens, but you don’t realize it until it’s over.

“White’s home. Blue’s away. Black’s alternative,” the clerk answered.

Her eyes moved from the clerk to me. But I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t form words. I could barely breathe.

She shrugged. “I’ll take them all.”

“Okay,” the clerk laughed.

“Shit. And this.” She pulled out another cap from under her arm and reached up to put it over my head. Then she eyed me up and down, her head tilted to the side. “Oh!” she squealed, turning back to the clerk. “Do you have those little letters that go on the back?”

“Yup,” he said, but his eyebrows were drawn in as he looked between us. “What name do you want?”

“Hunter.”

And there it was.

That moment of significance.

I put my arm around her shoulders, drew her into me, and kissed her forehead.

“Number?” the clerk asked.

“Twenty-three,” she said quickly, then looked up at me. “Wait. Do you change when . . . I mean
if
. . .”

I nodded and opened my mouth to speak. Nothing came out. I cleared my throat. “Eight.” My voice broke. It felt like forever since I’d used it.

“We can heat press the names and numbers here. You want it on all of them?”

“Yes please,” she answered, but her eyes never left me. She pressed the front of her body against mine. “Are you okay?”

I nodded once.

Then the clerk cleared his throat. “You’re not Blake Hunter, are you?”

My smiled was tight. “Yes, sir.”

“So, Duke? I didn’t know. Was it announced?”

“No, sir.”

“You got a few offers, right?”

Chloe pulled away. All the way away, until she was no longer touching me.

I nodded. “A few.”

Her eyes narrowed at me before she looked away.

We paid and left the store, neither of us uttering a word. When we got in the car, I reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. I didn’t know what had happened between the store and now, but the mood had grown noticeably colder.

“Chloe?” I said cautiously.

“Blake.”

“Chloe?”

“Blake.”

“Chloe?”

“Just give me a minute,” she said. “I’m trying to think!”

I sank into my seat. And I waited.

“Blake?” she finally said.

“Yes, Chloe?”

She faced me. Then moved her eyes from side to side, as if she was about to share a huge secret. I sat up straighter and turned to her.

“How big a deal are you?” she whispered.

My lips curved into a smile.

“This isn’t funny, Blake. I mean, I looked you up. I knew you were
good
, but that guy in that store—that you’ve probably never been to before—he
knew
you. That means you must be a somebody, right?”

I shrugged.

“Oh my God,” she mumbled under her breath. “And offers? It wasn’t just Duke?”

I tried to contain my smile. She was so damn cute.

“How many offers?”

I shrugged again.

“You’re not talking to me?”

I shook my head. It wasn’t like earlier, when my emotions had gripped me, and the words hadn’t been there. I just liked messing with her and watching her get more nervous with each question.

She squinted as she took me in. I didn’t know what she was looking for, but whatever it was, she must’ve found it, because her eyes went huge. “You’re like . . . a celebrity!”

The notion was so crazy it made me laugh. “I’m not a celebrity!”

“You are so!” She nodded frantically. “A sports celebrity!” Her hands covered the squeal that escaped her. “Oh my God.” She pushed open her door and stepped out of the car. “I’ve kidnapped a sports celebrity! I’m going to hell. Or worse.
Jail.
” She was pacing and rambling. “I’m going to sports jail. Where all the sports fans are going to throw rocks at the girl who stole their sports-celebrity-hero-god.”

I dissolved in a fit of laughter.

“This isn’t funny!” she yelled, but I couldn’t stop.

When we got back to the hotel, I changed and went for a run. I asked her to come with me. She laughed in my face and told me that she’d rather poke herself in the eye with a pen than be seen running with a sports god.

It was another quick run. I thought I’d be gone for ages, but the second after I’d left the hotel, I just wanted to get back to Chloe.

“Your mom’s been calling. I think you need to . . .” Her words died in the air as she took me in. I had taken my shirt off midrun, because I was so sweaty. She’d seen me shirtless before but probably not like this. She blushed and looked away, pretending to be engrossed with whatever was on TV.

I took a seat next to her and started to take off my shoes. “Did you answer?”

She pursed her lips and shook her head.

“How many times did she call?”

She shrugged, refusing to meet my eyes.

I ran the back of my finger along her bare thigh, trying to get her attention. “What did you do while I was gone?”

She stood up quickly. “Nothing. I’m making coffee. You want some?”

I laughed under my breath. “Yeah. I’m just gonna shower real quick.”

“I might um . . . go . . . I’ll be back . . . You shower.” Then she picked up her keys and left the room.

And I couldn’t wipe the damn smile off my face.

She must not have been gone for long, because by the time I’d finished my shower, she was back. Admittedly, I’d had a long shower. A nice, long,
cold
shower.

I sat out on the balcony and dialed Mom’s number. “Blake?” she answered. She sounded pissed.

Chloe came out with two coffees. She set them both on the table and started to walk away. I curled my arm around her waist and brought her down on my lap. She didn’t resist. “Hey, Ma.”

“You didn’t come home last night. Your car is still at the bowling alley, and Josh won’t tell me what happened! Where the hell are you?”

I frowned. “Don’t be mad.”

“Never start a sentence with that, especially with your mother!”

I switched the phone to speaker and placed it on the table. Chloe turned to me, biting her lip. She looked scared. I
was
scared. “I’ve kind of . . . left.”

“Left!” she shrieked. “What do you mean, you’ve left?”

“I’m with Chloe,” I said, as if it was a valid reason for my actions. “She was leaving, and I left with her. I had to. I’m sorry.”

“HUNTER!” she screamed.

We both flinched.

But then she started to laugh. It started low, then built up to something she couldn’t control. I started to get worried. Maybe she was crazy. It wouldn’t surprise me—being cooped up in that guesthouse all day, making up stories could do that to a person, right?

“Ma?”

She laughed harder.

Chloe tried to get up, but I held on to her tighter.

Mom finally stopped laughing long enough to sigh. “Oh, Blake,” she said. “I’ve never been so damn proud of you in my life.”

“What?” Chloe and I said at the same time.

“Is that Chloe? Is she there?”

“Yes, Mrs. Hunter, I’m here.”

“Good,” she said. “I want to speak to both of you.”

Chloe’s eyes went wide.

“Okay?” I said.

“Okay,” she repeated. I imagined her rolling her shoulders back, trying to calm herself down. “I need to wire some money to you. It might take a few days—”

“No,” we both cut in.

Then Chloe spoke over me. “We don’t need the money. I have enough.”

“That’s rubbish.” Mom’s words were final. “I’m sitting on piles of it, and I have no use for it. I live in a guesthouse, for Christ’s sake. Blake, are you there? Blake!”

“Yeah, Ma, I’m here.”

“I’ll transfer you some money. Don’t let Chloe pay for everything. Be a gentleman, for God’s sake—” She paused, the kind of pause I knew meant she wasn’t done speaking. Her voice lowered when she asked, “Is she still driving that . . .
antique
convertible?”

I couldn’t control my guffaw. “Yes.”

“Right,” Mom said. You could hear her frantically typing away. “You’d better buy a new car.”

“No!” Chloe yelled. “You can’t—”

“Chloe,” Mom said. “If your car breaks down and you guys get stuck in the middle of nowhere and get attacked by serial-killer joggers”—I laughed—“I’ll always blame myself. Make an old lady happy.”

“You can’t buy a car,” Chloe whined.

“Why not? Consider it a graduation present for Blake.” More typing of keys from her end. “Where are you?”

“Myrtle Beach,” I answered.

“Great. I’ll call with details soon.” She paused again. “Blake?”

“Yeah?”

Her tone turned serious. “I’m proud of you for following your heart, doing something that makes you happy. You deserve it.”

Chloe turned to face me, a perfect pout on her perfect face. She kissed my nose—the freckles, I guess.

“And you take care of Chloe,” Mom said. “She deserves that, too.”

“I will,” I answered. “She’s my red-letter day.”