1. Life isnt a Highway, its an Airport Strip

ONE

Ispent the majority of my life voicing every ‘what if' that came to mind. I asked myself, my parents, teachers, friends, and eventually lovers. What if it didn't work out? What if I wasn't good enough? Smart enough. Successful enough. Happy enough. Funny enough. What if I finally got the courage to try and failed?

So I didn't try. I didn't want to be disappointed in myself or the people I relied on. If you don"t expect anything, you can't be let down. It worked for years, until it didn't.

I decided to make a profit off the "what ifs" that plagued my every decision.

What if people wanted to hear what I had to say? What if someone could relate? What if I proved everyone wrong?

Call it anxiety, call it indecisiveness. It was ingrained into the fabric of my mind, and I stopped fighting it. I wrote down every question that plagued me and resolved to write that story.

Lack of control over my life was something I had to live with, but my characters—they bowed to me. The men I wrote about were beautifully flawed, but redeemed. They deserved to be because they were fictional. I found a way to spin each almost happy-ever-after I'd had in real life and give it to someone else.

Even as I was pulling up the doorbell camera footage on my phone, I knew that Dean had just met his expiration date in my life. Was it borderline apathetic that my first thought was that his story was going to be hard to spin? Probably. Taylor had songs about failed attempts at love. I had books.

They say you lose them how you got them. Still, how was I to know my much older boss-turned-boyfriend would leave me for his new secretary after I started writing full time and only did editing on the side? I didn't go into my relationships for the plot, but if they advanced my writing career along the way, how could I look back on them with regret?

My friend, Thomas, glanced up from his laptop. The coffee colored rims of his glasses were situated low on his nose as he glanced up from his computer screen. He didn't say anything that told me my well practiced, impassive mask was slipping, but his athletic frame sat back in the booth and he crossed his arms in suspicion. He knew me better than I liked to admit, even though I tried to keep him at arm"s length.

If life had taught me one thing, it was that men weren't to be trusted with your heart—romantically or professionally when you loved your job like I did. I'd been Dean's secretary last year when I was fresh out of college and looking for a job with good insurance. Copy editing was easy, and I was only buying time to establish myself as an author. I was still editing for the connections I'd made doing that, but I was more focused on my own writing lately.

I fell out of ‘love' with Dean as quickly as he showed distaste for my success when I left his company. We became roommates who mostly ignored each other, except for the occasional dinner party where we had to pretend. I stayed because I was too busy writing and marketing my books to move out and find my own place in the city. Dean stayed because he thought I was ‘going through a phase' and we'd be back to normal soon. The age gap thing was fun when he was a handsome older man with a shared passion for editing and writing, but he became less and less attractive when I realized how boring his personality outside of work was. Ten months of my life down the drain.

I worked from home often enough that Dean probably expected me to be there as this was happening, which meant he was doing this for attention. It was a shame that I didn't give a fuck. His actions only moved my timeline up a little. I clicked open another browser, booked a flight, and closed my laptop.

I gave Thomas a flat smile. "I'm going to call it a day."

He glanced at me curiously, reminding me of a sandy-haired, nerdy Clark Kent. "Everything okay?"

Thomas and I met in this same cafe the day I signed with my publisher. I was on a conference call with their team and couldn't contain my excitement when the meeting ended. I didn't think anyone else was within earshot when I said, "Fuck yeah!" under my breath. Thomas had been sitting on the other side of my booth and peeked his head around. It'd only been a few months, but we sat together every day since. He asked me what I was excited about, and he was the first person outside of Dean that I told about my writing. There were some things that were easier to tell a complete stranger than people you knew. I didn't plan on seeing him again after that day, but he just kept showing up. It was nice to have someone's presence that didn't require effort.

We were friends in the sense that we worked together enough that he picked up on my taste in music, food, and my general lack of interest in my boyfriend. He'd read my books, heard the interviews—he knew the score. Still, I made a point to not overshare. Thomas didn't have the same qualms about keeping our friendship surface level. He was a ball of energy, and I liked hearing about his weekends and who he was sleeping with at the moment. He was a rugby star in college and a freelance sports journalist. Handsome too. He'd wormed his way into my life, and I couldn't complain. With my best friend away playing minor league baseball in Buffalo, it was nice to have someone around who made me laugh and wanted nothing in return.

"Nothing too crazy. I have to go out of town and might take a few days off when I get back."

Thomas saw right through my calm facade and offered a sympathetic look even though he had to know it was pointless. "Alright, well let me know when you're back in town."

I stood and stuffed my laptop into my backpack. "Send me updates on the wild weekend I know you have planned."

"Safe travels." Thomas lifted his hand in a wave as I walked away, but he was already engrossed in his work again.

Dean's car was in his reserved spot when I parked next to it. I left my bag in the car and shoved my keys and phone in the pockets of my flowy, pastel pink pants. The elevator door pinged and slid open after I entered the passcode. The hallway was silent the moment I exited and walked up to our front door. It only took one step inside our apartment to hear them.

Louisa should have been an actress. Her talent was wasted as a secretary. I knew from experience that nothing Dean did encouraged the kind of show she was putting on in the other room.

"Honey I'm home!" I peeked around the doorway to see them in all their naked glory. Louisa had the decency to try and cover herself with the bed sheet, and Dean pretended to be shocked I was there. "I'm headed out for the weekend. Hope you don't mind, sweetheart."

I ignored them and flicked on the light in the ensuite bathroom. I found my travel makeup bag and started stuffing the necessities inside. My shaking fingers betrayed my calm voice, and I cursed myself for showing any weakness.

I heard him tell Louisa to leave and the shuffle of material as he started to dress. His normally pristinely pressed slacks were buttoned but unzipped when he came up behind me and braced his hands on either side of my waist on the double sink. It took effort to hide the repulsion I felt from his nearness. I watched him watch me in the mirror.

"Where have you been all morning?" He asked the question like today was just a typical Friday morning and I didn't walk in on him balls-deep in his secretary. His deep voice used to send chills down my spine, but annoyance was all that was left when I discovered he mostly played it up for female attention.

I put my toothbrush in a case and grabbed my organized bag of travel size liquids. I had a go-bag ready at all times.

I made a show of fixing my soft pink lipstick. "Why baby, did you want me to join? You know I prefer brunettes." I pointedly ran my gaze over his blonde hair that was cropped short into a buzz.

He huffed like a child, mad because he didn't get his way. "You don't even care do you?" His eyes searched mine for any indication that his plan had worked but he wouldn't find one. My "I don't give a shit" face had been perfected at an early age.

"That you're fucking your secretary or that you're trying to make me jealous?"

He just looked at me.

"I'm not jealous of a single thing you were doing to her. Honestly, I hope you put a little more effort in trying to make her come, but I doubt it. As old as you are, you'd think you'd know the female anatomy a little bit better. You can actually google a diagram if that helps." My voice was sickly sweet and ice cold at the same time. If looks could kill, my smile was poison. I frowned at him. "Or do you need me to show you how to work the internet again, pops?"

He rolled his eyes like I was the ridiculous one. "Maybe not everyone is as hard to please as you, Doll."

I mentally recoiled at the nickname. I hated when he called me that, hated any nickname people tried to give me. That was reserved for Parker.

"Maybe they lie to you because they like your money and your face is okay." I turned and ducked under his arm. "Either way, I think we both know this is over. I'll be back on Monday to move my things out if that works with your schedule."

He followed me into the bedroom and watched as I lifted my carry-on onto the dresser. I tried to avoid looking at the unmade, messy bed while Dean leaned against the wall.

"And if I want you to stay?"

"You should have been more careful where you stuck your dick when you had a girlfriend." I wrinkled my nose in disgust. "I don't like you very much, but I never cheated on you."

"Where are you even gonna go?" He crossed his arms over his shirtless chest but my eyes didn't fall where he wanted them to. It was crazy how unattractive someone became when they revealed their shitty personality.

My travel plans weren't really any of his business, but I knew it"d make him mad. "Buffalo."

It set him off exactly like I intended. I never felt jealous of the women Dean surrounded himself with, but he detonated at the mere mention of Parker every time. I relished the silver flash of anger in his blue eyes, the one that told me my jab hit its mark.

His nostrils flared. "Oh yeah? How long have you had that planned?"

"Booked the flight right before I came home." My voice was steady as I continued throwing clothes in my bag.

"So that's it? I make a mistake and you're done with me? Better go spread your legs for that dumb jock to make you feel better." He laughed. "Have fun living in a shack when his career goes flat."

Dean sucked at fighting because he didn't even know me well enough to come up with a good insult.

"Dean, your dad owns your company and this building. Parker and I are friends. I don't know why you're so insecure when it comes to him." Making men hate me as much as I hated them was a game I won every time.

"Just friends my ass. I see the way he looks at you. He watches you like you're this perfect little princess. How disappointed do you think he'll be when he reads the shit you write."

I was glad he couldn't see the wince that pulled my face tight while I yanked shirts off hangers in the closet. I was actually impressed he put two brain cells together to come up with that one.

"Real classy Dean, considering the situation." I nodded toward the bed.

"She didn't mean anything Delilah, don't overreact. She's just my secretary. You've been busy, and I was horny. Give me a break."

He obviously failed to draw the comparison that I was his secretary once too.

"Being busy had nothing to do with it. I wasn't interested in unsatisfying sex anymore." I reached into my bedside drawer and threw my vibrator and purple dildo in my suitcase. I didn't care if TSA opened my bag to look through it. "I took care of things well enough on my own."

I was surprised when he simply shook his head and buttoned up a new dress shirt that wasn"t wrinkled like the one thrown on the floor.

"Don't bother coming to get your things. I'll have them delivered to your parents' house."

"All of it?" I lifted an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I don't want your stuff. Or your dirty books." That was funny because I couldn't think of anything dirtier than his dick that he was apparently sticking everywhere.

"Fine." I was halfway out the door when he grabbed my arm.

"Write one about me and you'll hear from my lawyers."

"Oh, baby. Even I'm not that fucking creative. You're such a sad sack of shit, I have no idea how I'd spin that one."

I slammed the door behind me and slumped against it.

I intended to spend the flight working, but fell asleep shortly after take off. With every mile flown I could feel myself thawing into something other than the uncaring facade I'd honed over the years.

Instead of the nightmares I was usually plagued with, I dreamt of Parker.

It was more of a memory than anything. I could smell the rain in the spring air. The ground had just begun to thaw. Rain pelted the road, turning it soft under the four wheeler tires. Wind whipped against my face as we flew down the gravel road, so I tucked myself closer behind Parker's back and snuggled my arms tighter around his middle. My hands met in the pocket of his hoodie. I knew the feeling of being fully content wouldn't last forever. He was leaving soon, and I wasn't ready to give up my best friend for the baseball season. Going back to time differences and early morning video calls always sucked. Having him there with his warm body pressed to mine was precious, and I planned on soaking it up for as long as possible.

We slowed before turning to make sure the neighbor's dogs would stay in their yard. Then Parker gunned it. We both knew where we were headed, so there was no reason to talk. His hand reached down to feel for mine, and he tapped a finger twice, then returned it to the handlebars. I tapped his stomach twice in response. It was our signal for "all good" when we couldn't hear each other.

Iowa was not in its prime in early spring. It wasn't beautiful by any means—it was a muddy mess—but it was home, and I was with my favorite person. Most of the snow had melted, leaving bare ugly ground in its wake. It wasn't dry enough to kick up dust as we sped down the gravel, a nice reprieve that wouldn't last once the weather turned warmer. The road curved and then came to an intersection where the mud road was blocked off for cars.

"You ready Peach?" Parker called over the rumbling engine.

I tapped twice and wrapped my arms around him tighter. Parker looked both ways, and then we tore down the unmaintained, level B road that was barely wide enough for one car. It was our place on rainy days, and if the thunder that growled above us said anything, we were right on time. The midday sky was full of clouds that were growing darker by the minute, and heavy raindrops pelted our backs.

The road was only a few miles long, but by the third pass we were covered in mud from our boots to the top of our hood covered heads. Parker swerved, and the four wheeler swayed as he cranked the handle bars. Our back tire caught in a deep crater and spun in place.

Parker groaned. "I gotta push it out." I slid back and Parker swung his leg around to get off. He stopped when he saw my face and laughed. "Here, lemme—" He used his fingers as windshield wipers and cleared the mud from my sunglasses.

Parker got behind the four wheeler and I moved up to the front. "Want me to hit the gas?"

"Just a little." He crouched down behind the vehicle.

I used my thumb to apply a small amount of pressure to the throttle but we didn't move an inch.

"Use those muscles, big guy!"

"I'm trying, woman. Give it more gas."

He couldn't see the grin that spread across my face. "If you say so." I punched the gas and I heard him yell as the wheel kicked mud up into his face and all down his front. It dislodged from the crater, and I lurched forward a few feet. I clenched the break and turned around to see Parker on his ass in a pit of mud. He was covered.

I cut the engine and hopped off, fighting the giggle threatening to spill out of me. "Are you okay?" I asked through my hiccups.

"You are evil." His tone was flat, but there was a hint of a smile shining through. "Help me up." He reached out and waited for me to clasp my hand in his. I was almost a year younger than Parker, but I wasn't born yesterday.

"I'm not falling for that." I backed away but not quickly enough. Parker grabbed my boot and yanked me down in the mud next to him. The puddle made a splash when I landed, and he was on top of me in seconds. His hands were braced on either side of my head, and his knees boxed my legs in to ensure I couldn't escape. I shrieked as I felt the cold, muddy water seep into my clothes.

"You are such a smartass," he grumbled and pushed my sunglasses up on top of my head. He'd wiped most of the mud from his face but there was still a swipe of darkness across each of his cheeks and forehead. "Here I was letting you be the pretty princess and stay clean while I did the hard work."

I laughed. "Princess? The general consensus around here is more along the lines of ‘icy bitch.' But hey, I'm not complaining."

"Maybe they wouldn't think that if you let someone other than me see the real you."

I scoffed and put a hand to my chest. "And ruin my reputation? Hell no. I prefer it this way."

"You can lie to yourself all you want, but I see right through you." His gaze was too intense. Too aware.

"Oh, yeah? What do you see then?" When I was around Parker, it was the only time I didn't feel like I had to pretend.

He wiped a hand off on the one clean patch of his shirt, then raised his thumb to my bottom lip and cleared away a fleck of mud. His eyes were dark in the dim light and his voice got lower like he didn't really want me to hear. "Everything. Things you wish I couldn't." He leaned in, and my breath started to come out less evenly. We hadn't been this close in a long time, and the tension between us was building to a point of no return. I couldn't let it break. Parker's eyes were locked on my lips, and I knew he was going to kiss me. I could feel it in my bones. His hand reached back to cradle my neck. I was so close to giving in.

Then thunder cracked above us, and we jumped apart. I turned my head to see chicory wildflowers lining the ditches.

I woke up frazzled, and it took me a second to remember where I was. On a plane, not a gravel road with Parker. Chicory wildflowers. They weren't there in real life. It had been too early in the year for any kind of flower to be in bloom. That part wasn't from my memory. Chicory meant endless waiting. Perseverance.

Some girls were obsessed with star signs. I nerded out over the deeper meanings behind flowers. I grew up walking barefoot through my mom's flower beds and listening to her talk about her theories. I enjoyed leaning into the crazy idea that the universe had a plan for us. I let flowers guide my way.

The seatbelt light flashed overhead. I folded up the lap desk and put my things away in my backpack.

I spent the time it took to get outside the airport staying in the haze of the dream, then shook the thoughts from my mind as I located my Uber. Parker's team stayed in the same hotel for all home games so I knew the drive well, and my driver expertly maneuvered through the city streets. I pulled up Parker's text thread to avoid an unnecessary, surface level conversation with someone I'd never see again.

Del:

Hey #7, kick some ass tonight!

Parker:

You gonna watch?

Del:

Always do

Parker:

Yell loud for me, Peachy Girl

Del:

You'll hear me from the field ;)