Where the Road Takes Me
Page 50

   “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.