I covered my eyes, trying not to cry. “It’s like talking to a fucking wall! You’re not hearing me, and I’m not that good of a person to pretend I don’t want you in my life. I’m trying to do you a favor, Tyler. You have to go away. You have to be the one to do it. I’ve tried. I can’t.”

“I’ve already told you,” he said. “I’m in love with you. That’s not going away.” He cleared his throat. “Are you going to Wick’s for Thanksgiving?”

I blinked, shaken by the sudden swing in conversation. “What? No.”

“Not home? Not somewhere with your family?”

“Finley asked. I’m just not … ready.”

“Why don’t you come home to Eakins with me?”

“Come home with you.”

He breathed out a laugh, frustrated. “It’s going to be tough. It’ll probably be awkward. But no matter how hard it is, it’ll be easier than you being alone—and easier on me than worrying that you’re alone on Thanksgiving.”

I considered his offer. “I feel like this is a crossroads.”

He grinned, holding out his hand. “So cross with me.”

Chapter Twenty-One

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“What’s wrong?” Tyler asked, nudging my knee with his.

I shook my head, staring at the back of the driver’s head. Travis’s window was cracked while he smoked and chatted with his wife, neither of them thinking to adjust the heat while the frigid air filled the car.

Travis was too big for the tiny silver Toyota Camry he was driving, smiling far too often at his wife. They were holding hands, chatting about their break from their sophomore year of college, and how this Thanksgiving would be better than the year before.

She lifted their hands and slammed them down on the console, feigning insult. “Really? You had to bring that up.”

He grinned, smug. “If it gets me some sympathy points, baby, you’re damn right I’m bringing it up.”

She made a show of settling back into her seat, failing miserably at pretending to be angry. “No points for you. Be nice or I won’t marry you again.”

He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, staring at her as if she were the most beautiful star in his universe. “Yeah, you will.”

The two of them were engulfed in their own world, barely noticing Tyler or me, even though Travis had nearly tackled us at the terminal. He and his wife, Abby, had picked us up from the airport in Chicago, and I was freezing in the backseat, dodging the occasional flicked cigarette ash. The handholding and incessant happiness was making me slightly nauseated, and I was beginning to regret agreeing to come.

“Hey,” Tyler said, gently patting my knee. “It’s going to be great.”

Travis rolled up his window, and then turned up the heat.