Chapter 3

"See?" Daryl looked at me with an expression that all but said I told you so. "Sometimes cutting your losses early is the smarter choice."

I nodded in agreement. "Yeah. I guess it was time to cut my losses."

He seemed pleased with my response and, for once, praised me. "You'd be so much easier to deal with if you were always this well-behaved."

We paid the bill and stepped outside. Snow drifted down under the streetlights in thick, feathery flakes.

Brooke and I stood side by side while Daryl positioned himself in front of her, shielding her from the wind. The cold cut across my face like a blade, and I couldn't stop shivering.

Daryl fastened the last button on Brooke's coat, then stepped over to me. He unwound his own scarf and wrapped it around my neck.

"It's late. It's not safe for Bee to walk home alone this late. I'll see her back. Go home, get some rest, don't wait up for me."

Brooke lived in the opposite direction, though about the same distance away.

I hesitated, then called out to him. "Daryl."

He was already taking Brooke's hand and heading down the steps. My voice was swallowed up by the howling wind.

The ground had iced over and was treacherously slick. The distance was too short, just over half a mile, so no car would take the fare. After weighing my options, I decided to walk.

Half a mile wasn't far. But with snow falling, wind cutting at me, and ice underfoot, it turned into something brutal.

Snow soaked my hair, and the wind scraped my face raw. I fell, got up, fell again, got up again. I lost count of how many times it happened. My hands and my backside were both bruised from hitting the pavement.

I finally stumbled through the gate of my apartment complex. The second I stepped inside, my foot slipped, and I went down again.

I was still catching my breath, about to push myself up, when my phone rang. Daryl.

"Elizabeth, the roads are icy and wet out here. If I weren't with her, there's no telling how many times Bee would've fallen by now."

My eyes stung.

"Bee decided she'd rather just stay at a hotel tonight instead of heading back. It's not safe for a girl to stay at a hotel alone, so I'm staying with her. Just letting you know. Don't wait up."

"Daryl, come dry my hair for me."

Brooke's voice drifted through the phone.

"Daryl." My voice cracked before I could stop it.

I finally asked the question I hadn't been able to get out back at the fondue place.

"Have you ever once considered that I'm a girl too? That I'm your girlfriend? Is it safe for me to walk home alone on roads this wet and icy? Did it cross your mind that I might fall?"

All that answered me was the howling wind.

Brooke wanted him to dry her hair, so he hung up without waiting for me to finish.

I braced my hands against the snow. My tears fell into it, melting small pits into the surface.

My phone rang again. It was my mother.

"Lizzie, aren't you bringing Daryl home for dinner tomorrow? I wanted to ask what he likes to eat so I can go shopping first thing in the morning."

I clamped my hand over my mouth, holding back a sob.

"Lizzie?"

It took me a while to steady my voice. "Mom, he's not coming."

At the dinner table, I told my parents about the three-year overseas assignment to Zwinterland. They both froze for a moment before it registered.

"So sudden?"

It wasn't sudden at all, really. When the project had first been greenlit, I'd been the top candidate for the assignment. I just hadn't said yes, because of Daryl.

"How long?"

"Three years."

The room went quiet for a couple of seconds. My mother looked at me, worry in her eyes. "Lizzie, did the two of you fight because Daryl doesn't want you to go?"

"That has to be it," my father said, frowning, letting out a soft sigh. "It's understandable if he doesn't want you to. A young woman, all alone in a foreign country for three whole years, of course he'd be worried."

Daryl worried about Brooke walking home alone at night. He worried about her staying at a hotel by herself. But it had never once occurred to him that I might need the same concern.

…

My phone rang. It was Daryl.

I let it ring for a moment before I answered.

"Where are you?"

"At my parents'."

There were two seconds of silence on the other end.

"Weren't we supposed to go together?"

I checked the time. We'd agreed on eight in the morning. It was almost eleven, and he was only just now remembering he was supposed to come with me.

"Bee caught a cold. I took her to the hospital, and after her IV, I made her ginger soup. I lost track of time. Apologize to your parents for me. I'll go see them with you over the holidays."

"Sure."

The call ended. Brooke's social media post popped up right after, no caption, just a photo. Her parents sat close together on a sofa, with Daryl and Brooke leaning in from behind, their shoulders pressed against her parents'. It looked exactly like a family portrait.

Within minutes, the comments rolled in.

[Family photo?]

[Are you two back together?]

[Elizabeth must be crying her eyes out right now.]

I wasn't crying. I pressed a hand to my chest and felt no pain there at all.

My phone buzzed. Vincent had sent over the flight details for my departure, two days from now, first thing in the morning.