I gave a small scream of dismay. "No!"
"Sorry," the man in a suit said, holding a cup of coffee. He watched me as I knelt over the pretzels, and then turned away and left, as if it wasn't important to help me. Dick.
I hurriedly scooped pretzels back into my box, trying to place them back the way they'd been neatly stacked. That was a losing battle, though, and by the time the box was full, I still had twenty pretzels sitting on the ground and couldn't close the lid. Frustrated, I mashed pretzels and tried to stuff them back into some semblance of order. Pushing the pretzels back into place took another five minutes of my time, but I couldn't leave any of them behind. Once the lid was back in place, I headed into the deserted coffee-shop. "Do you know where Independence Hall is?"
The guy behind the counter peered at my hat, then stared at the cameraman trailing me. "You on TV?"
"Something like that," I told him, impatient. "Independence Hall?"
He waved a hand. "Back that way several blocks."
"I just came from there," I exclaimed.
"Well then, you're heading in the wrong direction. Go back that way a few blocks. You can't miss it."
Can't miss it? Apparently I had. Heart sinking, I wondered if the delivery location had been closer than I'd thought. I'd gone at least eight blocks by now, maybe more. Hefting my box again, I murmured a thank you and headed out the door.
Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars was on the line, and I'd gone the wrong direction. Two hundred and fifty thousand.
And I'd screwed us because I was no good with directions.
The box seemed to get heavier with every block I jogged. I couldn't afford to walk at this point. Who knew how much time I'd lost by going the wrong way? When I'd gone a few blocks again, I stopped and asked for directions once more. I got the same thing — a few blocks in this direction. You can't miss it.
I arrived at Independence Hall twenty minutes later, having missed it again and gone in a circle. By that time, one of the handles on my box had broken, the bottom of the box was sagging, and I was near tears. At the front of the massive, historic hall stood a man in front of the doors, dressed in a George-Washington-style coat and a powdered wig. He stood on the World Races mat and gave me a pleased nod when I thumped my worn box of pretzels down on the ground. "Very good. Here is your next task."
I took the disk from him, weary and defeated. I wanted to lay down on the ground and give up, but I owed Liam an explanation.
Not that he'd believe me. This was the most critical task, we'd had a huge lead, and I'd blown it. The moment that Brodie had come running back before me? He'd assume the worst.
And there wasn't a thing I could do about it.
I jogged back to the pretzel restaurant, my heart heavy. We'd lost. We'd lost the race. We'd come so close and I'd blown it. I'd said that I hadn't wanted the win, but I lied. I totally lied.
Because right about now? I was sick that we'd lost everything. Second place got the same money as last place.
But that was okay. I'd keep my cool and not let anyone know how disappointed I was. How much it hurt to have everything blow up in my face in the eleventh hour. How much it hurt to not have Liam at my side at the end. I'd been warned that it wasn't a real relationship, but my heart hadn't listened so well.
And now I was in too deep.
And that hurt. A lot. It hurt worse than the ache of losing.
When the pretzel restaurant came into sight, I saw Liam leaning against the wall, every muscle in his body tense despite his casual pose. His black hair was shaggy, nearly covering one side of his face. Polly stood off to one side, scuffing one of her sneakers. Brodie was nowhere to be seen.
They'd already left.
Liam spotted me and got to his feet, and Polly looked my way with only mild interest. Her gaze was glum, and I realized that she knew they'd lost. The fighting spirit had gone out of her.
"Welcome back," Liam said in a low voice, approaching me as I rushed forward. He carried both of our backpacks again.
Like nothing was wrong when everything was wrong.
I burst into tears.
Liam's eyes widened and he moved toward me, pulling me against him. "What's wrong?"
"I…got…lost…" I choked out between sobs. "I fucking ruined us and now you hate me."
"What?" He glanced around and noticed Polly watching us curiously even as he hugged me closer. His hand splayed on the back of my head and he pulled me in for a tender kiss on the forehead. "Come on. Let's get in the cab and we can talk on the way to the next task."
Unable to speak beyond my hysterical weeping, I handed him the disk. I hadn't even bothered to look at the next task. What did it matter?
With me still tucked in his arms, Liam led me around the corner. A taxi waited there, along with one more, presumably for Polly and Summer for when they finished their task. Liam tossed our bags into the back seat, and then gestured for me to get in. I slid into the car, wiping tears miserably from my face. A moment later, he was in the car and shut the door. He leaned in and showed the driver the clue. "You know where the Rocky Stairs are?"