She wiped at her tears again, then backed up, angling the car so she could turn around on the narrow road banked by snow. She had to get out of there. As she whipped the car around, she heard a horn and slammed on her breaks just as a truck slammed on theirs. Both vehicles slid to a halt, only a few feet from each other.
Mark stared at her from his truck.
Her hands stayed on the steering wheel. He got out and approached her door.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he shouted at her through the window.
She clamped her mouth shut and looked away.
“Open the door,” he said, knocking on the glass.
“Just let me pass,” she said.
“If you don’t open this door, I’m going to wrench it open myself.”
“With your bare hands?”
“Fireman,” he said. “You’ve got a bat. I’ve got an ax.”
She looked up at him, her eyes raw from dried tears and a headache blooming. He scowled, his hands at his hips. With a sound of exasperation, she pushed her door open and got out.
“Are you okay?” he growled at her, his breath making puffs in the cold air.
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” she answered. “Your truck didn’t even hit me.”
“My truck didn’t hit you?” he asked. “You were the one coming at me like a maniac.”
She didn’t know what to say to that, and the way he looked directly at her with such ferocity and pain made her unable to look anywhere else.
He studied her for a minute, a steely wall between them.
She desperately wanted to leave. “I’m sorry I ruined your ceremony.”
“Forget the ceremony.” He glanced up the road toward his place, breathing heavily, then back to her car. “Where were you headed?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
He waited for more. She didn’t give him any.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll pull off the road so you can get past.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I do. The snowplow didn’t clear it wide enough for two cars. There’s a pullout back where the road splits up to Harriman’s. I’ll back up to that point, and you can pass me and head home.” He stepped away.
“I’m leaving, Mark,” she said, staring at her feet.
“Not until I move my truck, you’re not.”
“No. I’m leaving Miracle Creek. I’ve been invited to teach at an artist residency in New Orleans.” Even as she said it, she could see it like a golden light in front of her. An exit door wide open. “I’ll leave as soon as the school can find me a replacement. I’ll need that time to get the house ready to sell.”
He’d stilled. “New Orleans.”
“Yes.”
“Sell the house.”
“Yes.”
His voice was forced. “Is this about what Dalton said?”
“No.”
“Because that was a load of—”
“That’s not it. I shouldn’t have believed him.”
“Then is it—”
“It’s an opportunity. That’s all.”
“What about—”
“I’ll finish the nativity. Don’t worry.”
He stayed put. “How long have you known about this?”
She stared at nothing. From the beginning, she thought. “It’s something I’ve kept in mind, in case I might want to leave.”
“You want to?”
She didn’t answer.
“I thought you liked it here.”
She met his gaze. “I’ve liked a lot of places.”
He searched her face, his expression stony. He backed up a bit, looking toward his house, then back down the road, his breaths of air coming harder and faster now in the cold.
“I trusted you,” he said, his voice strained. “You couldn’t trust me.”
Her gut twisted. She almost went to him. Almost wrapped her arms around him. To tell him she’d never leave.
He nodded. “I guess you’ve answered my question.”
His words jerked her back to reality.
“I make you feel like running.”
Heart stuttering, she couldn’t argue. He was right. From the beginning he’d made her feel like running.
With her silence, he strode to his truck, got in, and shut the door. He looked behind him as he drove smoothly back down the road, disappearing around the bend.
When she passed him, his truck pulled off to the side, he kept his head down, as though messing with the stereo.
During the drive back to her house, she nearly convinced herself she’d done the best thing for both of them. For him.
Mark plowed up the front steps of the house and slammed the door behind him. Inside, he took the stairs two at a time.
“Mark?” his dad called.
He didn’t answer. He shut the door to his room, leaving the light off, looking around blindly. He pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. He stripped it off and threw it across the room at his closet door.
He ran his hands through his hair and sat down on the bed.
He’d trusted her with . . . everything.
And now she was leaving. She’d be gone.
He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Before her, he was surviving. But with her? How could life be something without Riley in it?
He pictured Dalton’s smirk, and the look on Riley’s face. As if he were as despicable as Gainer.
He fell back on the bed, humiliation washing over him. Twice this had happened. First with Caylin. Now with Riley. She couldn’t even look at him. She’d just faded away, as if he wouldn’t notice her not coming around anymore. But that was nothing compared to this. Riley . . . she’d looked. She’d made him let her see, and he’d thought she could feel something for him beyond pity.
Fool.
All the frustration, all the anger and jealousy and rage he kept locked down reached up and dragged at him, tore at him until it broke free. His low growl grew into a yell. He clenched his fists, the skin on his face and hand stretching painfully. He drew another breath to yell again.
His dad opened his door, and a beam of light fell across him.
“Mark?”
“Get out!”
“Son—”
“Just get out!”
The door closed, and Mark rolled over onto his stomach, gripping the pillow to the point of almost tearing it. He yelled again, muffled in the covers, every muscle in his body tight, his head pulsing. Fear was strong. It was
