“You think?”
“Once I started to feel better, I began to realize something.”
“What’s that?”
“Getting mono was actually a real gift. I’d been studying to be a secretary to please my parents when what I really wanted was to style hair. So I enrolled in beauty school and the rest is history.”
“Glad it worked out for you.”
“Life’s little detours often lead us to our real destination.”
“You sound like a fortune cookie.”
“Clichés are clichés for a reason.”
“They’re trite for a reason, too.”
“I know my little story doesn’t compare to all the suffering you’ve been through, Boone, but what I’m trying to say is that everyone comes to a crossroads in their life, and it’s okay to sit and mull for a while until you figure it all out.”
“I’ve done a helluva lot of stewing,” he conceded.
“What is it you really want to do?”
“Be a soldier.”
“But that path is closed. What else are you passionate about?”
“Hell if I know.”
“What appealed to you about military service?”
“Knowing what’s expected of you.”
“You could find that in another line of work.”
“Tara,” he said. “I’m not you. I’m not a bright little ray of sunshine. I don’t know how to pick up the pieces of my shattered life and move forward as if nothing had happened. Every minute of every day the pain reminds me of just how broken I am.”
She couldn’t help it—she had to peek at him. The deepening twilight cast shadows over his face. His eyes were hooded again. The scruff of stubble darkened his jaw. His breathing was ragged and she realized he’d been sitting in the passenger seat a long time without stretching his leg, and he hadn’t taken a pain pill all day.
And here she’d been chattering glibly about mono. As if she could even begin to imagine the level of pain he’d suffered. Was still suffering. She could be so silly sometimes. No wonder Boone had never been her fan.
Up ahead lay an exit. Gas stations and fast food joints.
Tara did what she did best. She plastered on a happy smile, pretended everything was just fine and chirped, “Pit stop, coming right up.”
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