Melt For Him(63)

She hadn’t been at the river. Her bike hadn’t been in the parking lot at the foot of the trail, but he’d still scoured all the secret spots she’d shown him by the rocks, and the water, and along the path. The light was fading as the sun crept behind the hills. He’d known, deep in his gut, that she wasn’t there. But he’d had to check because he’d been so sure he’d find her.

A cruel possibility swooped down as he walked away from the river. Had she left already for Portland? Megan had it in her, but would she really just leave? Then again, she’d told him about leaving her ex and that had been a swift exit. Was this how she ended things? With a good-bye note, and then she tore out of town? She might already be in Oregon by now, settling in somewhere downtown, finding new friends to connect with, a new place to call her own, until she threw her sparse belongings together once more and moved on to the next town, the itinerant artist, picking up whenever she was ready for a new adventure.

As darkness inched closer, the shadows playing against the woods, he returned to his truck and drove back to town. He tried Jamie’s house, but she hadn’t heard from Megan and promised she’d let him know when she did. He checked out Travis’s place, but there were no signs of her there, either. Maybe he should have gone to her mom’s first, but it was his last hope, so he saved it for last. This was the closest thing she had to a home, and even though Megan had wanderlust, she also loved her home.

When he turned onto her mom’s street, he was greeted with a beautiful sight. Her bike in the driveway. He pulled up and turned off his truck. He was about to head straight to the door and knock when he stopped himself. What was he going to say? How was he going to convince her to take a chance on him?

Sitting in the quiet of his truck, he flicked on the light and reread her note, still wrinkled from when he’d balled it up. What was his grand plan to convince her she could give up all her fears for him? He knew himself well enough to know that he wasn’t going to quit the firehouse. Sure, he’d toyed with the idea and had let his imagination run wild with the possibility of just being a bar owner. But his other job mattered too much to him; it was part of who he was, come hell or high water. It was written in his blood, and imprinted on his heart since he was a kid. Megan had understood deeply when he told her that story. He was a firefighter no matter what, and if he wasn’t willing or able to let go of that, how the hell was he going to convince her to stay with him?

Her note was clear. She couldn’t be with him.

But he had something to tell her. She’d always left him notes, some sweet, some sexy, some sad. He needed to do the same. He rooted around in his glove compartment for a piece of paper and a pen, and then scratched out a few quick lines. Then he folded it over, wrote her name on the front, and tucked it safely alongside the oil gauge on her bike.

…

The sound of the dryer rattling in the nearby mudroom was oddly comforting to Megan as she crossed and uncrossed her legs, waiting for the tea to steep. She’d already helped her mom unpack, started a load of laundry from the trip, and now moved it over to the dryer. Robert was back at work already at An Open Book, and her mom had brewed a pot of tea. Her mom poured the tea, brought the mugs to the table, and handed one to Megan.

“Tell me everything. Was the cruise amazing?” Megan asked as she wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic.

Her mom tilted her head and gave her a quizzical look. “Sweetie, you’ve already asked me that about ten times.”

“Oh. Yeah, I did,” she admitted. She’d thought this would be easy. But it wasn’t the least bit simple to get the words out, so she’d distracted herself.

“What’s wrong? You don’t seem like yourself. Is it Jason still? Is that whole thing ending getting you down?”

Megan managed a bitter laugh. “I wish. I wish it were Jason.”

Her mom narrowed her eyebrows in question. “What is it that’s getting you down?”

Megan sighed heavily and slumped in her chair. She pushed a hand through her hair. She’d ridden clear up to Tahoe and back, and the cool air on her face and the wind at her back had done nothing to clear her head or her heart of that man. She ached for Becker, and she hated feeling this way. She wanted him out of her system, far away. But running had done nothing to abate her desire for him.

“You know our hall, Mom? With all the pictures?”

She nodded.

“And how it almost seems as if there are a few years missing?”

Her mom smiled sadly. “I know, sweetie. I was a mess there for some time.”

“You were. It’s like you were gone,” she said, keeping her voice steady and strong. They’d talked about her mom’s depression before; they’d come to peace with it. But there was more that needed to be said.