Page 84

Now, jokes on me because I'm the one who could have used that damn lavender candle and a cup—or gallon—of the chamomile tea. All without knowing for sure if he'll actually be there when I get across the park.

Without even deserving the possibility.

As I walk the path toward the bench where he was stretching before, my heart rate quickens, and I actively avoid looking forward. The ground is nice this time of year, riddled with fallen leaves, both crisp and colorful, and the occasional "helicopter" that spins down from the maples.

So, I take a vested interest in dodging those and stepping over the leaves that haven't yet curled up on the edges and are still holding onto life.

Because that's what I've always done.

And because I'm too scared to glance up and see he isn't there.

Eventually, I have to look, and when I see the bench vacant—the path around it the same—my heart sinks into my stomach.

At first, I'm angry—for him setting me up for this. For him kissing me and making me believe that he didn't mean it when he said this changes nothing.

But then the disappointment settles in, and with it comes the understanding that I did this.

Maybe not last night, but one six years ago.

The crunching of those half-dead leaves under the feet of someone who isn't making a game of avoiding them, makes my ears perk and every hair on my body stand on edge.

My blood rushes to my sneakers as everything stills except for the rapid waves of my chest. I turn around slowly, rehearsing too many times how to greet Jace when I see him, considering my plan is to say… Hey or Good morning—whatever pours out first.

I spin around slowly, my mind and heart both moving much faster than my body. But when my eyes land on an elderly woman with a leash in her hand and some sort of poodle or doodle on the other end, everything stops.

It's not him.

He's not coming.

"Good morning," the woman says, strolling past me like she didn't just yank all the hope I had from my cold, clammy fingers.

I clear my throat of my disappointment. "Morning," I mutter, my expression the same as it was when she wasn't him—frozen. Numb.

I stare straight ahead until she passes me completely, and only then do I sigh, drop my head back, then drag myself around toward the bench.

"Hey."

I startle at the word, my shoulders straightening and my face lighting up as my eyes swing to the source.

"Hi," I say, too excited.

Jace notices, trying his best to smother his smile. "You been here long?" he asks, propping his shoe up on the bench.

He leans down to re-tie his sneaker, and his t-shirt pulls tight against the width of his back. His forearms flex as his fingers move over the laces, and I try my best not to picture them bracing his weight on either side of my head.

"No," I say.

It's not a lie. Technically, every emotion I've felt has come and went in a matter of minutes.

He tightens his knot, then stands up straight, dropping his foot back to the ground. "Good."

"Good?"

He shrugs. "Yeah, I would have felt bad if you were waiting for me or something."

Every muscle in my body stiffens. "Oh, I mean…" My eyes wander everywhere but his face. "I sort of was, I guess. I just thought—"

I feel him looking at me and pause, finally swinging my gaze to his.