“Are you sure you have to leave already?” I rest my head against Blake’s chest. We’re leaning against his car in the parking lot of the ski place, stalling.
Blake sighs into my hair, his embrace tightening. “I wish I could, but my parents are really big on making sure we have enough family time.”
My heart twinges at the mention of his parents. Plural. For a moment I wish I could meet his mom, to see what she’s like—and what he’s like with her—but it won’t fill the emptiness I feel without Mom. “This sucks.” The pressure that’s been burrowed in my chest crawls its way up my throat, making it hard to breathe. I press my face harder against him. “Any chance you’ll be visiting the East Coast?”
His voice is a whisper. “Do you want me to lie?”
I lift my face and look into his eyes, memorizing every detail. “Of course not.”
His lips pull into a frown, but whatever he’s thinking, he doesn’t share. “Then no. I have your number. We can text and call...” he trails off. We both know this is where it ends.
“Right.”
He traces his fingers down the side of my face, then cups my cheek in his palm. “Maybe... someday...” He bites his lower lip, then leans forward until his lips brush my forehead. He kisses my eyes, my cheek, and finally lands on the corner of my mouth.
I can’t take it anymore. I don’t care that we’re standing in the middle of the parking lot. I slide my hands through his hair and pull his head to mine. Our lips part immediately—there’s no time for gentleness—and we devour each other as if our lives depend on it. He turns me so my back is against the car and presses the length of his body against mine. A warmth spreads from my belly to other, less experienced parts, and I wish for the hundredth time that we were older, that we had more time, that we had someplace to go other than a parking lot.
When we finally come up for air, my breathing is ragged. A darkness clouds his eyes, like he’s thinking the same thing I am about going somewhere more private.
But there’s no time.
He kisses me once more, this time more gently, then takes a step back.
My gaze drops to the ground. I don’t want to cry in front of him—again—but if I look at him I don’t think I can stop it. The door creaks open and I slide inside.
The ride is too short. I feel like it’s only been seconds when he stops in front of my condo.
His seatbelt clicks and I turn to face him. I try to speak but the lump in my throat is making it impossible.
“I guess this is it.” He tries to smile but it comes out lopsided.
I unfasten my seatbelt and lean toward him. We meet in the middle, arms entwined, lips brushing over each other’s face as if trying to memorize every detail.
He pulls away first. “I’ll get your gear.”
I meet him at the trunk and he props my gear against the side of the car.
“Text me when you land?”
I nod, still unable to find my words. I kiss him once more on the cheek. “Bye,” I whisper, then grab my skis and hurry up the sidewalk. I don’t want to look back, but I have to.
He’s standing in the same spot, his gaze locked on mine.
I force myself to turn away. To open the door. To go inside and close it. Then I run to my room, throw myself on the bed, and finally let the tears flow.
***
The doors to the airplane seal shut with a soft whoosh, but it’s like a hammer to my chest. Even though we’ve been texting since last night, I’d secretly hoped Blake would be at the airport this morning, and when I didn’t see him in security I dreamed that maybe he’d track me down at the gate, flowers in hand. A small flicker of hope burned that he’d force his way onto the plane, unable to go another second without seeing me, and kiss me in front of Dad and all the half-asleep people already in their seats. But that’s not happening either.
The passengers around us are already in another world, eyes closed, some with earbuds firmly in place. Dad leans his head against mine, his leather brewery notebook in his lap, the faint scent of coffee lingering on his breath. “What’s on your mind?”
He knows I’m sad to leave Blake—there was no hiding my red, swollen face when he got back from whatever he was doing yesterday—but he doesn’t know that it feels like my heart’s been ripped out and left in shreds on the terminal floor.
“Is it Blake?”
Okay, so maybe he has a clue. I shrug.
“Talk to me, Cally.”
I take a deep breath and press my fingers to the corners of my eyes. It’s like I have a bottomless cup of tears, ready to spew without warning. “It’s not fair. I finally find a boy—a funny, beautiful, sweet boy—who sees me as more than just one of the guys, and he lives on the opposite end of the country.”
“Do you have plans to talk to him after we get home?”
“Yeah, but what’s the point? It’s not like I’m ever going to see him again.” With those words, another piece of my heart rips off and falls to the floor. At this rate I’m going to be dead before we land.
“You never know. The world works in mysterious ways.”
I jerk my head to look at him. “Do you know something I don’t?”
He holds up his hands. “No. But the world is a lot smaller than it was when I was your age. Can’t you talk on social media and your video-chat thing?”
“He doesn’t believe in social media.” I don’t know what it is but half my friends aren’t into it either. Me, I love looking at everyone’s pictures and seeing what they’re doing—it’s one of the few things that reminds the guys that I have two X chromosomes.
“Okay, then you’re probably right. But I hate seeing you so upset.” He fidgets with his seatbelt, eyes lingering on mine.
It’s not like him to not say what he’s thinking. “What’s up?”
He flips the latch open, closed.
Open. Closed.
He’s totally stalling. I rest my hand on his. “Dad.”
“I have news, but I don’t think this is the right time.” He looks back and forth between me and his lap.
This isn’t like him. My inability to keep a secret comes from him. “You can tell me.”
“You’re already upset. I don’t want to make it worse.” He looks in my eyes and my heart stalls.
Is he sick? He can’t be sick. What will I do without him? “Dad, you’re scaring me.”
He takes a deep breath, then lays a hand on my leg. “This trip wasn’t a vacation. It was a business trip.”
Okay, so not sick. But this isn’t a huge deal. He’s been on plenty of business trips over the years so I don’t know why this one is getting such a buildup. I watch him without speaking. If I interrupt he’ll never spit it out.
He clears his throat. “You know that Calliope has been doing well. Really well.”
Oh yeah, Dad named his brewery after me.
“Yeah. People love beer and yours is kickass.”
He lowers his brow and I shrug.
“Or so I’ve heard.”
I lean closer. “So business is good...”
“Henry and I have given it a lot of thought, and we’ve decided to open a second brewery.” He studies me, face blank, like he’s expecting a reaction other than excitement.
I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. Dad’s never dramatic and this is definitely dramatic for him. “What’s the catch?”
His eyes dart to his lap, then settle on me. “We’ve agreed that I’ll be the one to open the new location. Get it going from the ground up. We’re looking at a spring opening which means we break ground, so to speak, in less than a month.”
There’s something else. Something bad.
Dad moves his hand over mine. “Cally, the new Calliope Brewing is going to be in here in Colorado. In Boulder.”
Nausea rolls through me. “But—”
But we live in Vermont.
We don’t live in Colorado.
My whole life is in our creaky old house with the bright purple shingles, curving wood banister, and the huge tree in the backyard.
But most importantly, our house holds my every memory of Mom. If we leave, where will she go? Another family won’t know how much she loved that house, how we used to sit in the window seat facing the backyard, daydreaming about the future. How I still sit there with a blanket wrapped around me, pretending it’s her protecting me from everything outside that window.
“Cally?”
“What about the ski team?”
A frown tugs at his mouth. “I talked to the school here but they’ve already got their team.”
It’s like he punched me in the gut. The plane isn’t moving but I feel like the bottom dropped out from beneath me. “I won’t be on a team?” No training. No competition. Nothing to keep me going every day.
I stare at him, unable to form a coherent sentence.
Dad squeezes my hand. “I didn’t make this decision lightly. Everything else fell into place. Henry and I don’t want to miss this opportunity.”
A lump blocks my throat. I want to lash out, to scream that he doesn’t care about me or my feelings or my life, but I know that’s not true. Dad has always put me before everything else so if he’s decided to yank me from my world, he has to have a good reason.
Dad moves his hand over my hair, settling on the back of my neck. The tears in his eyes mirror mine. “I promise I will make this as easy on you as I can.”
“But no ski team.” My voice is low. A statement, not a question.
“Not this season. I’m sorry.” He closes his eyes and presses his forehead to mine. The gesture usually comforts me, but there are too many emotions swirling through me.
The overhead speakers ding. “This is your captain speaking. We’re next in line. Flight attendants, please prepare for take-off.”
Dad releases me and we lean our heads against our seats. He’s still holding my hand and I cling to it like my life depends on it.
What started as the most exciting week of my life has turned into the biggest heartache I’ve ever known.