Page 3 of Any Second Now (Fort Collins Blizzard Hockey #2)

I have my key out, but I don’t need it as the door is cracked already.

I shove the door all the way open and step inside.

“Are you kidding me?” I stand with my hands on my hips in the foyer, glaring at my mother and Jacob as they argue with each other inside my house. They freeze comically.

“Honey. Hi. Sorry, I let myself in,” Mom says. “I brought you some takeout. I know you had a long shift today.” Mom nods toward the kitchen, hands clasped and with a look on her face both defiant and loving.

I glance over at the kitchen table, where the white plastic bag filled with multiple different dishes from our favorite Chinese restaurant sits, and my stomach rumbles.

“Thanks, Mom.”

Mom didn’t have it easy when I was younger.

Dad disappeared suddenly when I was little, and after staying home since I’d been born, she had to get a job to support us.

She fell apart for a handful of years, but she went back to college, graduated at the top of her class, and got a job as a project manager.

She didn’t want me to make the same mistakes that she did—not that any of it was her fault.

There was always a plan for me. A roadmap laid out of exactly what I needed to do and when.

The spreadsheet.

“And you?” I look at Jacob with a slight shake of my head. “I told you to leave me alone. Just this morning, as a matter of fact. ”

“I know. I’m sorry.” There’s that sad, kicked puppy dog look again.

“Have you even gone home today? Or just sat in front of my door during my entire shift?”

I’ve begged this man to leave me alone. I know a lot of this is my fault. I’m helping him hold on to the idea of us because I feel guilty for leaving him. I’m letting him be dependent on me.

“Raleigh.” Jacob’s handsome face is so hopeful. “I went home and thought about what you said. And I wanted to come back here—my actual home—to tell you?—”

I groan. “Not your home.”

Undeterred, Jacob continues. “—that I want to give you the space you asked for. To think. To hopefully… forgive me?”

“Sure, forgive him,” Mom says sharply. “But don’t you even consider taking him back.”

“Clara!” Jacob gives my mother a pleading glare. She always liked Jacob, and it was hard on her, too, when we got divorced.

“She needs to focus on her career. Not a man.”

“She doesn’t need to focus on her career, her career is just fine.” Jacob looks at me with wide eyes and desperation etched in the lines in his forehead. “Stop micromanaging. She needs to sort out her trauma from our marriage so she can give us another chance.”

Does he hear himself? Someone help me.

“Jacob, Mom, please stop,” I say, but no one pays attention to me.

“All that marriage trauma. That’s your fault, you know,” Mom snaps at him. “She’s not giving you another chance. You should focus on your career as well. Or getting a job, as I’m assuming you still don’t have one.”

“Hello!” I shout. They both turn my way and seem surprised to see me standing there. “I’m not focusing on my career. I’m not sorting through marriage trauma. I’m definitely not dating anyone.”

Jacob opens his mouth to speak and I shake my head.

“Actually, I’m going on a road trip. My sabbatical got approved.” I cross my arms and freaking dare them to argue.

Jacob lets out a whimper and Mom gasps. Ah, now I’ve finally got their attention.

“Oh, okay, honey.” Mom pauses, and I’m pretty sure I know what’s going through her head. She’s got a ticker tape of reasons why a road trip sabbatical is a terrible idea for my carefully planned life, the life that just imploded again with my second divorce. “Where are you going to go?”

Whatever. I think my multiple divorces have officially destroyed the life spreadsheet we created back in high school.

“I have some free time.” Jacob has a tentative look on his face. “I can come with you?—”

“No.” I spit the word out. Does no one listen to me? When did I ask for either of their opinions? When did I ask for anything but space from these two humans? “I am driving cross country by myself. Alone. Just me.” I throw up my hands for emphasis.

“Is that safe?” Mom cocks her head. “Driving so far by yourself?”

“You don’t even like driving two hours to the beach.” Jacob furrows his brow. “I always drive us.”

“ Drove us. And I’m doing it in an RV.” I tilt my chin up.

“What?” A look of surprise and hurt crosses Jacob’s face.

I have a flicker of regret, as I knew this would be how he reacted. Maybe I wanted him to truly hear me for once.

“You rented an RV?” Mom’s face is scrunched up like she’s mentally creating new potential outcomes with this information.

“I bought one. And I’m picking it up this weekend.” I got an immediate response from the couple when I texted them from the car.

“Do you have a?—”

“Yes, I organized everything in a spreadsheet, Mom .” I might have said that sarcastically, but it’s true.

As soon as I got the incredible and satisfyingly petty idea to buy an RV, I opened a new Excel file and researched costs of buying versus leasing, maintenance needed, pros and cons of different manufacturers, all the things.

“Good. Because I wouldn’t want you to make a rash decision. You should be?—”

“I don’t want to be told what I should be doing right now. What I want is for both of you to get out of here so I can finalize the sale and go pick it up. Then come home and pack.”

I cross my arms again and tuck my hands into my armpits. I’m sweating. Panicking.

I’m really doing this plan, huh.

“Have you ever driven an RV before?” Mom crosses her own arms right back at me.

“As a matter of fact, I have.” I don’t need to tell her the only time I’ve driven one is when I test drove the RV I purchased, pulled behind the current owner’s car.

“And now it’s time for you to go.” I turn to my front door and push it open all the way, shooing my mother and my ex-husband out.

I don’t make eye contact as Jacob walks by, but I don’t miss the hurt look on his face.

“Call me, honey, okay?” Mom touches my cheek and follows Jacob down the steps. I hear them start talking—arguing—again but I shut the door before I give in to the urge to shout down after them.

I need room to think. Space to figure out who I really am without the pressures of marriage, work, family, the spreadsheet. I need to not come home to this house, the one Jacob and I bought together five years ago.

I need a way out. At least for a while.

Guess I’m really going.