“The job’s in San Francisco.”
I watch my sister’s face change—the fine lines around her eyes becoming less pronounced as her smile drops and her eyes widen.
“Oh.” It comes out in a puff.
I run a hand through my hair. “Yeah.”
Maggie recovers quickly and places a hand on mine. Her skin is cold and damp, and I try not to pull away—to accept her gesture of comfort. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s still a good opportunity.”
“I’d have to move, Mags.”
“You’d have to move,” she agrees.
“And you guys would still be here.” I leave it unsaid who the you guys are, but she seems to understand that means Greer too.
“Would Greer move with you? If you asked her?”
It’s such a startling possibility that I’d choke on my beer if I had any in my mouth right now.
“No, Maggie.” I can’t keep the bitter twist out of my words. “Her job is here. I couldn’t ask her to do that.”
Not to mention, she’s not actually my girlfriend.
My sister’s face pinches, and she straightens in her chair in a way that signals she’s about to drop a wisdom bomb. “You have a big heart, Locke. So big that most girls don’t deserve you. But so big that most companies don’t either.” She sighs and continues. “Ever since Dad died, you’ve done more than your fair share for the family.”
“To varying degrees of success.”
She ignores me. “We’ll be okay no matter what you choose.” She cracks a grin. “I mean, that’s why they invented FaceTime, right? But this is about you, Locke. What does your heart want?”
Everything.
But sometimes that’s asking too much.
I grip the edge of the table, but even as I sit here, I realize there’s another layer to it, too. What my heart wants is chances. I’ve always loved possibilities, the start of new adventures. It’s why I love travel so much. And right now I’ve been handed two opportunities, both with the spectacular potential to change my life. Everything’s an exploration right now, and nothing’s for sure. But one opportunity could bring me the job, and one chance could bring me the girl.
Even for the wanting, I can’t have both.
“I don’t know,” I finally say.
“Why don’t you just take a step back and look at the big picture?”
I narrow my eyes at my sister. A headache swirls at my temples. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t want to tell you how to live your life, but you and Greer seem to have a good thing going. So just, like, think about what you want long term. What’s going to be more important to you in ten years?”
She launches into a longer spiel about how my parents took their whole till death do you part vows seriously, and about seizing the day and being the master of your own destiny, but my mind latches onto her earlier suggestion.
Take a step back.
Maybe I need to put a buffer between me and Greer. Try to separate out everything I feel about her from everything I feel about the job. After all, she’s ninety percent of my hesitation right now, and I don’t even know if she likes me back.
Laying low isn’t going to be easy, maybe it’s safer that way. I know just how much it can hurt when you want things you shouldn’t have.
9 Greer
At lunchtime on Tuesday, most of my coworkers filter out of the WanderWell offices to grab food, leaving Damien hunched over his desk at the back of the room while Locke and I square off across from each other in the dark.
I stare at Damien’s back for a minute, watching his strong shoulders bunch under his button-down shirt. He’s all alone, and for half a second I feel bad for him—no one to grab lunch with, a room full of coworkers who won’t let down their guard around him—but I have bigger problems to deal with. Case in point, the man in front of me who’s supposed to be my ally and my buffer against Damien, who’s not doing a damned thing to hold up his end of the bargain.
Computers hum and fill the huge office with heat, the buzz of all this glittering technology vibrating in my heart. When I first started at WanderWell, I brought backup sweaters and cardigans to work every day, sure that the admins would crank the air conditioning and freeze me out the way my old job had done. But maybe they’ve decided it’s not worth the cost of cooling the place down too much, or maybe the machines just offset the AC they do run.
Right now I’m sweating, though I’m not sure if I should blame my cable-knit sweater or my increasing frustration with the way my words won’t come out right today. Or maybe I’m sweating because Locke hasn’t said more than two words to me since Thanksgiving and I don’t know what the hell’s going on.
I pull my gaze from Damien to frown at the screen, where I study the last responses I wrote for a set of user queries.
User query: I hate you.
Wanda response: Can’t win ’em all.
Even Wanda sounds crabby right now. I need a break.
“Hey, Locke,” I call across the space between us.
He makes a soft sound of acknowledgment and glances up quickly.
“You hungry? My stomach’s about to digest my kidneys.”
Eww. Nice, Greer.
I make a face at myself, but Locke just shakes his head and drops his gaze back to his desk. “I’ve got to catch up on a few things I missed while I was out, so I’m just going to eat at my desk.”
He made a similar excuse yesterday.
What the hell, Lachlan? I struggle to keep my face composed, and for the first time, I question our desk position. There’s nowhere to hide from his scrutiny.
Not that he’s looking. In fact, he’s doing everything he can to avoid my eyes.
I just don’t get it. It’s like things were fine—good, even—at Thanksgiving. There was the flirting—it
