Page 17

Two days before Christmas, I leave for Amarillo while Griff is at work. It’s better that way. I think. In some ways, I’m relieved he didn’t try to stop me. Why? Because I would have gone without him after that comment, despite his attempts to stop me. The draw to see my family is too strong. And you know damn well I’m lying about wanting to see family, but I’m not willing to admit that. I do want to see my family. There’s just one other person who might be higher up on that list.

On the plane, I almost chicken out and it’s not until we land that I really begin to regret the decision. “What am I doing?” I ask myself as I take shaky steps down the jet bridge into the airport. I can turn back, can’t I? Maybe this is a bad idea?

No, no.I stop walking and two people run into the back of me.

“Excuse me?” someone asks from behind.

“I need to do this,” I mumble. “And I’m not talking to you.” Was that rude? I’m guessing so because he growls.

“You need to move, ma’am,” a man behind me grumbles, adjusting his cowboy hat as he rushes around me.

I have half the nerve to yell at him for being so rude, but I’m the one who stopped on the jet bridge. I’m a freaking mess. Look at me. Do you see me there in amongst the businessmen rushing toward their next flight and the screaming kids who kicked my seat the entire flight? I’m wearing leggings, an oversized hoodie, snow boots, and I’m in a desperate need of a shower after the four-hour flight. Something about being on a stuffy airplane that makes you feel like you need to get the stale air off your body. Or maybe I used too much dry shampoo on my hair.

Regardless, what am I doing? Dejection works through me. I frown. Actually frown at my thoughts. I move through the airport as if I’m in a zombie state, unknowingly making my way to the baggage claim.

And when I’m there, I still haven’t snapped out of it. I stare at my suitcase as it circles the baggage claim belt and I let it go over and over again. I had a plan and now that I’m in the same state as him, I’m freaking the hell out. This was a horrible idea. I’m engaged. I shouldn’t even be here, let alone be so intent to see if those sparks still fly with him, because I know they do. You know they do. You saw us on the phone.

I’m not sure what I’m thinking but my heart does. It’s determined to find its way back to the one it craves.

You’ve seen the movieSweet Home Alabama, right?

What aboutThe Notebook?

AndThe Best of Me?

Okay, maybe not that one. Spoiler alert, he dies.

Where is this going? The girl always goes back to her first love.

Why?

I’m not entirely sure at this point. Maybe because that first cut really is the deepest and the heart has muscle memory? It goes back to what it knows.

And I know Jace better than anyone.

After I retrieve my bag, I turn my cell phone back on. There’s no message from Griff, which is surprising. I’m sure he’s busy, but I thought for sure he would have sent something to me.

Outside the airport, wind slaps my face and I remember what it’s like to be back in Amarillo. I haven’t been here in years.

I didn’t line up a rental car so my only option to get back to my parents’ house is Rhett, who’ll probably be at work, or Josie.

So I call Josie.

“Hey!” I say cheerfully and giddy. I’m nervous and excited, running on cold brew and bad decisions.

“Abbi?” Josie asks. “Shit girl, is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” I lean into my suitcase outside the airport, watching people load their luggage into the back of their cars and kissing loved ones goodbye. A memory hits me, one of me leaving Jace so many years ago. Only this memory wasn’t at the airport. It was in his truck when I begged him for more and he couldn’t give it to me. So why am I back here now? Do I really think this is going to end any different?

“How are you? How’s the wedding planning?”

“Um, yeah, it’s fine. I’m actually in Amarillo. Can you come pick me up?”

“Seriously?” she deadpans. “Are you just fucking with me?”

“I’m serious. I’m at the airport. Wanted to surprise my parents for Christmas.”

“What? Holy shit. I just talked to you yesterday, bitch. You didn’t say anything.”