A few minutes later we’re pulling onto the highway that leads us back to San Francisco. The sun is shining but the mood in the car is heavy, a cloud hanging over us. We don’t talk. No music plays. Somehow the silence is comforting, something that we share.
I keep thinking about the barn. The look in her eyes as she came, the way her hands held me to her, so tight, like she couldn’t stand to let go. It undid me in a way I’m not sure I can reverse. I find myself reaching for the back of her neck, holding her there, as if that could keep her close.
She looks over at me, her eyes both sweet and sad. “I think Bram’s going to miss you,” she says. “He doesn’t have a lot of friends out here yet except for Linden.”
I nod, not wanting to talk about Bram. I want to talk about us.
“And you,” I say. “Will you miss me?”
Her brow softens, and I have the urge to kiss her forehead, to breathe her in, to bury my hands in her silky hair. I know what I want to hear from her. I know what I need to hear from her. I want her to stop the car, to stop time. I want her for just a few seconds more than I’m allowed.
“Of course I’ll miss you,” she says, and her voice is quiet, strained. It tells me the truth. That this is hard on her too. “I already miss you and you’re still here.”
I swallow thickly, knowing exactly what she means.
But what the fuck is there to say? We both knew this was coming. We knew very well. I just didn’t expect it to be so hard.
It’s fucking killing me.
I run my thumb along her neck, and I am filled with foolish thoughts, wants, desires. I don’t dare even repeat them to myself. I’m just having a hard time imagining myself next week, back in Edinburgh. Of course, rugby will sweep me away, consume me, as will the organization. But now that I’ve been consumed by her, I’m not sure it will be enough.
I open my mouth to tell her something that could make it better, but there really isn’t anything that can. So that silence falls on us again.
Until Kayla utters, “Fuck, traffic,” and I look to see the highway in front of us backed up with cars.
“We have plenty of time,” I tell her. All I have to do is get home, grab the two suitcases I packed, and leave. Emily is already in her crate, and I have a sedative to give her for the journey. Bram has an extra key to the flat and said he’d get a maid service to come by after I left.
But half an hour later, the traffic is still ensnarling us.
“Fuck,” Kayla says again, wringing her hands on the steering wheel. “Can you check again?”
I open her phone and refresh the traffic app. We’re not too far from the Bay Bridge, but the highway is showing up as a thick red line. “Still showing traffic all the way through to the city, but the delay is only supposed to be ten minutes.”
“That’s what they’ve been saying, and yet…” She shoots me an anxious glance. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’ll make the flight,” I assure her calmly. “Don’t worry. They say you have to be there three hours before an international departure, but really it’s ninety minutes. We’re good. I’m just running in, grabbing my stuff, and going.”
But time is playing a cruel trick on us. First I was cursing it—it seemed like the car ride couldn’t be long enough, that I wouldn’t get enough time with her. Now the ride threatened to never end.
“You know, I didn’t think I’d spend my last moments with you stressing out about this fucking traffic,” Kayla says, resting her head on the steering wheel. “What would happen if I just started honking?”
I look around us. There don’t seem to be any accidents, but it’s like every person in the world is on the road, lanes after lanes converging onto the bridge, the tolls slowing everyone down. “You’d go nowhere fast. And then I’d have to get out of the car and fight someone, I’m sure.”
“You’d win at least,” she says. “Maybe you could take off your shirt before you do it.”
“Always wanting me half-naked,” I chide her.
“Excuse me? Fully naked, please.”
I can’t help but smile at the sincerity in her voice. What the bloody hell am I going to do without her around? No one else brings a smile out of me like an automatic response, a knee-jerk reaction.
An hour in traffic ticks past. Kayla is losing her shit and apologizing profusely, and I’m massaging her shoulders, trying to soothe her and keep her calm. But eventually, I have to face facts.
I’m not going to make my plane.
“I’m so sorry,” she says again, and I give her a measured look.
“Once again,” I tell her, “it isn’t your fault. We didn’t know about the traffic. If anything, I should have made sure we were on the road earlier, but…it was just so bloody hard leaving the bed this morning.” We hadn’t even been screwing. We were entwined with each other, breathing, just being.
“If I could rewind time,” she says, and her voice starts to crack. It cuts into me, sharp and deep, but she quickly covers it up, shaking her head.
“I’ll call the airline and get on the next flight.” I tell her, bringing out my phone. I find my confirmation number through my email, and dial.
“Isn’t that going to cost so much extra?” she asks.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“But—”
“Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. It could give us more time together,” I tell her. She blinks slowly, considering that.
By the time we begin our slow, aggravating crawl onto the Bay Bridge, I finally get through to the airline. I apologize to the clerk on the phone, explaining the dilemma.
“Unfortunately, Mr. McGregor,” the clerk says, “the next available flight out to Edinburgh isn’t until tomorrow, even if we reroute you through Glasgow.”
“All right,” I say. That doesn’t screw up too much. The first team practice isn’t until Tuesday. “Let’s stay direct. Are there any change fees because I missed it or…?”
“No,” she says. “Because you’re business class, the fees are waived.”
“Is it a full flight?”
“Getting full, though it should be fairly empty in the business class cabin.”
That makes me pause.
“How much do those seats cost?” I ask her, but before she can respond, I follow up with, “Never mind, it’s not important.” I pause and take a deep breath, because I’m started to feel amped by something crazy. “Do you mind if I put you on hold for a moment?”
I don’t even hear her response. I move the phone away from my face and look over at Kayla. She’s gnawing on her lip, her brow pinched in worry—maybe sorrow. She has a tiny crescent moon scar on her chin, and I realize I never got a chance to ask her about it. I never got a chance to learn a lot of things.
But chances happen all the time. You just need to take them.
“Kayla,” I say gently, as if I can’t believe it myself because I don’t.
She turns her head, shining eyes meeting mine. “What?”
“Come with me to Scotland.”
It’s more of a demand than a question.
But I’ve said it.
She stares at me blankly for a moment, blinking, until I smack my palm against the dashboard to draw her attention to the car she’s about to rear end. She slams on the brakes and we both jolt forward against the seatbelt.
“What?” she asks delicately, as if she didn’t hear me right.
I clear my throat, conjuring up the sheer nerve to say it again.
“Come with me to Scotland. Tomorrow. I can get you a seat on the plane.”
Her mouth drops open but she doesn’t say anything. She gives me a brief, confused smile. “I don’t…are you being serious?”
“When am I not serious?” If she could feel how fast and hard my heart is beating, she wouldn’t ask me that. “I’m serious. I’ll get you a ticket. Just come with me.” Please.
She’s staring at me, trying to read my face, and I know she’s having a hell of a time pulling anything from it. Finally she shakes her head. I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt.