Rockstar Lost - Taryn Quinn Page 0,32
station. But I didn’t want any holdups or mistakes.
“Not even that. I’m jealous that you’re brave enough to go out there alone. Even though I’m going to worry about you every night. And you better at least text me and tell me where the hell you are.”
I laughed around a half sob. “I promise.” I hugged her in a rush and grabbed my big bag.
“I just don’t want you to be sorry that you threw something amazing away.”
I held the doorknob but didn’t turn around. “I’ll see you in a few months, Ro.”
I rushed down the driveway to the Uber driver waiting. Through my tears, I loaded my bag into the trunk and got into the backseat.
Luckily, the driver wasn’t overly talkative. Right now, that was exactly what I needed.
By the time we pulled up to the train station, I’d gained back a little of my equilibrium. Nerves and second-guessing weren’t going to help anyone.
Especially me. I would not be one of those women who waffled about a man, dammit.
Before the driver could help me, I hopped out of the car. She popped the trunk for me and I waved her off once I had ahold of both bags.
The front of the building looked even larger than the few times I’d passed it by. Stone columns and a huge clock gave it a stately air. People rushed around and the scent of the river mixed with the smells from food carts.
I had time to kill and now that I was here, the sense of urgency was leaking out of me like a four-day-old Mylar balloon.
I tried to push down my sister’s voice, Myles’s pleading tone as he asked me to give us a try, and my own quieter one that started a what-if chant.
None of those voices were supposed to be with me today. I’d been counting down the days to this trip. I glanced down at my phone to the countdown app I’d installed. T-minus three hours until I started my new life.
I stalked past the doors to the ticket station and around the back to the wide-open square. A visitors’ center, park, and huge walkway framed the river. It was midday and the regular commuters were rushing around while others were saying their hellos and goodbyes.
And here I was, alone.
By choice.
Today was the first day of everything I’d been working toward for the last year. Maybe even two years.
Had the germ of the idea happened that rainy night I’d kissed Myles? I’d wanted to chase after him and beg him to give us a chance. And if not us, then not to ruin our friendship. But I was far too pragmatic.
Afraid.
I didn’t want to hear that little voice. I didn’t want it to be right. But what if I was doing the same exact thing right now? Ignoring that inner guidance that was only trying to help, not hurt.
Disgusted, I found a spot under one of the trees and collapsed on the grass to people watch. Strollers dotted the paths around the vendor stalls, kids vying for their harried parents’ attention, and people of every age group rushed for the departure gates. Everyone was in motion. Somehow I’d become static, and I was so tired of that.
This was the right thing to do.
There was something romantic about the idea of traveling across country in a train. I tried not to focus on how much thinking time I’d have. But I’d be moving. And that was the important part. I had to move forward with something in my life.
I’d just use all the downtime on the train to work. Then I’d have ample time to see all the sights without worrying about money. It was a perfect plan.
I got to my feet and gathered my things. A flash of dark curls stole my breath.
I whipped my head around, my heart stuttering in my chest. I lost the man in the crowd. Suddenly, I spotted him again, but it wasn’t him. His shoulders were too narrow and the guy hadn’t seen the inside of a shower in way longer than Myles would allow.
“So stupid.” I trudged to the side entrance and followed signs for the ticket area. The kiosks for electronic tickets had a wrapping line. I should have printed out a ticket, but I was hoping to upgrade to a sleeper car. Now, with my head pounding like a kick drum, I was willing to pay even more to upgrade.
I followed another line of people to the escalator. Sunlight