Separate Lives

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic!

Chapter Twenty-Nine

After pulling on a dark gray sweatshirt, Trixie strode over to her bedroom window. A small smile tilted her lips. Another gray day, just like yesterday. It hadn't started raining yet. If luck held out she may be able to get her run in before it started up again. Not that she was counting on that. Her luck wasn't always the best. Arching an eyebrow at that loaded thought, she slipped into her sneakers and turned away. On the way to the door she grabbed her cell phone. Her hand hovered momentarily over her iPod before dropping back to her side. She didn't need music cluttering up her thoughts. There was too much to think about as it was. As usual, most of her thoughts centered around one James Winthrop Frayne II. Taking the steps two at a time, almost as if she was racing to get away from them, Trixie rushed downstairs, her ponytail swinging behind her with each sway of her body. "Hello, Moms!" she called out loudly before entering the kitchen.

Helen looked up from the stove where she was skillfully flipping pancakes made from her grandmother's recipe. It was nice to know that some things didn't change. Her daughter bounded into the kitchen with the same amount of energy as she used to. She almost expected her oldest sons to come in behind her, Brian at his characteristic sedate pace and Mart with a sarcastic comment. The fact that they didn't made her sigh. Helen had to remind herself that none of her sons were home at the moment. Brian was on his honeymoon, Mart was living with his charming wife, and Bobby had driven back to school yesterday. Her smile wasn't quite as cheerful as she'd like it to be. She was always the most happiest when her home was filled to overflowing. "Good morning, Trixie. Are you going out for your morning run?"

"Hmm…mmm," Trixie answered, giving the air an appreciative sniff. The smell of frying bacon coupled with the heavenly scent of brewing coffee was almost enough to make her skip her run. Her stomach rumbled in immediate response. There was nothing quite like a meal made by her mother. It certainly beat anything she ever tried to cook. "It won't take me too long, though."

"I'd offer you breakfast now but the thought of running on a full stomach doesn't seem all that appealing in the least." Helen expertly eyed the pancakes on the griddle, getting ready to turn them over at the correct moment. "I'll save you some for when you get back."

"Thanks, Moms. You're the best." Impulsively she threw her arms around her mother and held on tightly. There wouldn't be that many more opportunities to hug her mother. She wanted to make the most out of each one that she had left.

"Right back at you," Helen smiled into her daughter's curls, embracing her daughter extra hard, before letting go to see to the pancakes. "It's not a problem. After all, Mart isn't coming over today. I won't have to guard the food from him."

Giggling, Trixie stepped back from her mother and used the counter for balance as she started her morning stretches, knowing it was best to warm up her body before beginning any serious exercise. Pulling a muscle wasn't something she wanted to deal with in her line of work. "I'll be glad to clean up the kitchen today, though. I didn't exactly live up to my end of the bargain yesterday," she noted wryly. "Sorry about that."

Helen waved off the offer and apology with a quick flick of her hand. Her plain gold engagement ring glinted with the overhead lighting. No huge, ornate gem adorned it; only a small but beloved diamond solitaire that meant more to her than any other possible jewel ever could. "No worries, Trixie. I never mind working in the kitchen. You know that. And after the news Mart and Diana shared with us yesterday…" A dreamy smile touched her lips. A grandchild. Her first grandchild. She couldn't believe one was already there, only waiting the prerequisite amount of time before showing up. Her arms already ached to hold the joyous little bundle. "Well, I needed to keep my hands busy. I can't wait to meet our little baby."

"Me, neither." Trixie returned her mother's smile with a happy one of her own. Exactly as predicted, Mart made the announcement the second he and Di walked through the kitchen door. When her parents had regained the ability to speak, both had immediately converged on the expectant parents. Hugs, tears, squeals of delight, and laughter had all abounded. It had been a magnificent sight to witness and to be a part of. "In October. It seems so far away, Moms."

"It's only six months, Trixie. There is so much to get done between now and then. They need to fix up a nursery for the baby and they have to get all those wonderful baby gizmos and gadgets. I'll have to get in contact with her mother to help plan the baby shower, too. Oh, the time will go by fast. It won't be long at all." Helen beamed, a multitude off plans already running through her mind.

"You're right, Moms, as usual. It isn't that long. A lot can happen in six months." Trixie pulled back an elbow, lifted her arm over her head, and stretched it back.

Helen studied her daughter out of the corner of her eye. In her mind, there was only one dark spot on the news. Trixie didn't live in the same part of the country. Her voice was carefully controlled as she inquired carefully, praying for a positive answer, "Do you think you'll be able to make it home for the birth?"

"Moms, I wouldn't miss it for the world." Trixie's words rang with conviction. She would do everything possible to be there when the little one was born. She wasn't going to miss out on it, no matter what she had to do. Her fingers caught the edge of a manila envelope sitting on the counter. Curious, Trixie stopped her stretch and picked it up. It was addressed to her. Already privy to its contents, she stared at the clock on the wall and smirked. It wasn't even seven o'clock in the morning yet. Max was nothing if not efficient. He had told her he'd have someone deliver the new plane ticket as soon as possible. As usual, he definitely delivered. "When did this arrive?" she questioned quietly.

"About fifteen minutes ago." Helen swiped a hand over her hair, thankful she'd been dressed for the day and not in her pajamas and bathrobe. "I was starting to mix the batter when there was a knock on the door. It scared me a little. I'm not used to visitors this early in the morning. The courier made me sign for it, too." A puzzled look crossed her face. Most couriers generally delivered their letters and packages during normal working hours. Six-thirty in the morning definitely did not qualify as normal working hours in her book.

Trixie slipped out her new plane ticket, studied the date and time on it carefully, and tapped an absent finger on the worn but pristine counter. Two messages from Max had been waiting for her on her cell phone when she returned home on Saturday night, letting her know that she was needed in San Diego earlier than expected. She ran a finger over the new date. Wednesday. Shrugging a resigned shoulder, she was grateful to have at least that much time. Monday was only just beginning. Technically, she had two more full days in Sleepyside before it was time to say good-bye to the rest of her family and friends. A good many of the Bob-Whites were already gone. Brian, Honey, and Dan. The only one she didn't know the whereabouts of was Jim. Not surprising at all, she hadn't heard from him all day on Sunday. She hadn't exactly been eager herself to pick up the phone and call him. Determinedly she smoothed away the sudden wrinkles gathering on her forehead. "Thanks, Moms," she murmured softly.

"You'll be leaving us on Wednesday now, right?" Helen asked although she already knew the answer. Trixie made the announcement the day before, soon after Mart and Di left to share their fabulous news with her family. At Trixie's affirmative nod, she flipped the last pancake and declared briskly, refusing to acknowledge any hurt until after her daughter left, "That's not too bad, dear. We've had you for a full week and a half this time around. It's been a great vacation."

Oh, it had been. One of the best she could ever remember having in Sleepyside. And the reason why she was currently going running without the aid of her beloved music to motivate her. The recent memories would be enough to keep her mind occupied and focused. "I'll be back soon, Moms. I've got my phone if you need me." She pressed a quick kiss to her mother's check, offered a swift hug to her father as he strolled into the kitchen for his morning coffee and traditional Crabapple Farm breakfast, and bolted out the back door.

Thick clouds darkened the sky. The spring air held the smell of more rain to it. The breeze wasn't a comforting one; it carried an unseasonable nippy edge to it. Trixie skirted around a puddle, evidence of yesterday's unhappy weather, and started running at a slow clip down the long driveway. Leftover rain clung to the leaves, flowers, and grass, making everything more vibrant and vivid. Trixie didn't take the time to appreciate the bounty nature supplied before her. Too intent on her thoughts, she passed it by without a second glance, her eyes only on the road in front of her. By the time she reached Glen Road, she was ready to pick up the pace. Her ponytail swung out behind her, streaming like a merry blonde flag.

She kept to the side of the quiet country road, her sneakered feet pounding out a steady beat underneath her, while a car or two passed her every now and then. Glen Road was never a hotbed of activity. Seven o'clock on a Monday morning didn't make it any busier. In direct contrast to the traffic, or lack thereof, her thoughts worked as fast as her feet. Using the quietness of the time, the comfortable steadiness of the beat, she recalled the wonderful week behind her. It had been truly memorable, ranging from her surprise welcome home Sunday evening to the breakfast yesterday at Crabapple Farm. She ticked off the positives in her mind. Honey had the wedding of her dreams. Di was starting down the path of the next phase in her life. All three of her brothers were deliriously happy with the women in their lives. Dan seemed happy with his life. Although…Trixie slowed down as a light bulb gradually flickered on, the corners of her mouth pulling down. They had spent an awful lot of time talking about her, not so much discussing him. She wondered if he was as enamored with his job as he seemed to be. Definitely something to ponder.

Of course, all thoughts invariably led back to Jim, as they generally did with her. He was the main reason why this vacation had been such an unforgettable one. All based on a simple yet effective truce, crafted together because they shared the same wealth of love for Honey and Brian. And it had led to the most astonishing moment of all. Her fingers gently touched her lips, almost as if she could still feel the pressure of his against hers. It was the reason why she wasn't sleeping as well as she should, why there were purple smudges residing under her eyes. How could she, when she knew what it felt like to be in Jim's arms again? She still wasn't sure if she should be grateful or annoyed with the untimely intrusion of Jim's parents. In the bright light of day, becoming intimate with Jim didn't seem like the very best of ideas, especially when she was flying back to California, or, more accurately, when they were both preparing to leave Sleepyside to resume their normal yet extremely separate lives. During the night was a much different story. She'd suffered through two already filled with tossing and turning and wasn't looking forward to a third one. There was absolutely no one to talk it out with, either. Honey wasn't available, Di would be going to work soon and was in total new mommy mode, and the idea of bringing it up with her own mother simply wasn't the most tempting. Regrettably, she was on her own on this one.

After reaching the halfway point in her run, Trixie gratefully turned around and started pounding back towards Glen Road, her pace as even as ever. The first small fat drop of rain hit her in the face, making her chuckle. Running in the rain didn't bother her. It never had. She only hoped it didn't become torrential before she made it home. Judging from the thickening clouds, she may not get her wish. Starting to run faster, she brushed back the sweat beading on her forehead and tried not to stare at Mr. Lynch's store as it blurred past. She never liked looking at the place even though it was no longer owned by Mr. Lytell. One too many bad memories were associated with it. She expelled a sigh of relief when it disappeared from sight and continued on down the familiar territory of Glen Road, closing in on her destination. She gave a sniff of the air, almost imagining her mother's delicious breakfast.

Rounding the corner, the overgrown and dilapidated driveway for Ten Acres came into view, proving that her run was nearly finished. Her driveway wasn't that far away. Dodging a puddle, she glanced up when the unmistakable hum of a vehicle filled the air. Only the sound wasn't coming from the road. It was coming from the driveway. Trixie came to an abrupt and complete stop right at the edge of the driveway, her heart racing fast. The acceleration had nothing to do with her preferred choice of morning exercise. Taking a deep breath that did absolutely nothing to fortify her, she realized with trepidation that the time was here. Whether she understood how she was feeling or not didn't matter anymore. Jim was there, right in front of her, and looking at her through the glass of his window.

She had one hell of an uncanny ability to materialize out of nowhere. It always seemed to happen when he was thinking of her. She had done it at his house on Saturday night. Now she was doing it again. He wondered if it was a plot to slowly and effectively drive him crazy. If it was, it was definitely working. There she was, standing a few inches from his rundown and decaying driveway, and looking as breathtaking to him in dark gray running shorts and sweatshirt as she had in her shimmery, unforgettable bridesmaid dress. Taking the time to make certain he put his car in park, Jim shut off the engine and opened the door, using the precious seconds to help gather his thoughts. His feet hit the ground and, after painting on what he hoped was a cool, calm and collected expression, slowly walked towards her, his hands in his pockets and absolutely no idea on how to start their conversation. Seriously, he thought with an inward chuckle steeped in sarcasm aimed entirely at himself, he was going to have to do better than this.

Determined to pull off light and easy if it killed her, which it most certainly could do, Trixie called on her training, using everything she'd learned in her career as a CDA agent to assist her with the unexpected meeting. She could do it, she insisted quietly. She could. With a cheerful wave of the wrist she blocked off the depth of her emotions and smiled brightly up at him. Only a small, telling flicker in the deep blue of her eyes gave her away. "Good morning, Jim," she said, proud when her voice came out strong and normal without a trace of a wobble or waver to it.

"Good morning, Trixie." The sound of her voice was as effective as solid punch to his gut. He kept his hands in his pockets, afraid if he took them out he wouldn't be able to control them. Bravely trying for some levity to break the unacknowledged tenseness gripping them both, he remarked with an arched look at the sky, his lips curving into a semblance of his lopsided grin. "You picked a good time to go out for a run."

"I know." She let out a low laugh that caused shivers to course up his back and held out a hand. As if on cue another raindrop fell right into it. She wiped it off on her sweatshirt. "The rain's not too bad right now, though. It only started a few minutes ago. Plus, home isn't that far away. I should be able to make it there before it gets too bad."

"Do you want a ride? I can give you one, if you want." It was meant as a polite, neighborly suggestion. Hooking a thumb towards his car, he didn't realize he was doing the impossible. He, Jim Frayne, was volunteering to drive up to Crabapple Farm, a place he hadn't set foot on since that summer she moved away. In his mind, Belden property had been completely off limits to him, just like she had been.

"Thanks for the offer, Jim, but that would kind of defeat the purpose. I need to finish out the run," Trixie answered, smoothing a hand over her hair which was curling more exuberantly than normal. The combination of sweat and weather was too much for her to combat. She didn't notice how mesmerized he was by the simple action, how his gaze followed her every move. Desperately striving for normal, Trixie was relieved to formulate the next question. "What are you doing out and about so early this morning?"

Early? It didn't feel too early to him, not since he hadn't had a single good night's sleep for the past few nights. Saturday night had been spent in an extended version of his own pure hell. Regrets and unresolved sexual tension hadn't made for the most peaceful of bedfellows. No, he would much rather have had her there instead. Sunday wasn't much better. He didn't know if he should blame it entirely on their kiss or the contents of that letter. Either way, he doubted if he would have any satisfying rest for a long time to come. It took a minute for her question and a need for him to answer to register. "Coffee," he answered belatedly. Two earth-friendly containers, size extra-large, were waiting in his car, one for him and one for his father. His was already half-finished. The caffeine was a welcome boost to his system but paled in comparison to actually seeing her. "Dad asked me to pick one up from Mr. Lynch's store. You know how much he loves the coffee there. We're driving back into the city this morning."

Now she knew his plans. It took a huge effort but her smile stayed in place. "You're leaving today?" The right amount of curiosity was intoned and hid the quick spurt of disappointment spearing through her. Of course he was going back, she chided herself, feeling like the classic dumb cluck. She thought she was prepared for it but the sinking feeling in her stomach proved how wrong she was. This time he was going first.

"There's a slight problem with one of our South American ventures. Only Dad can handle it and he needs my legal advice. We have a meeting set up for one o'clock this afternoon so we have a little time to play with this morning but not much. He wants to be in the office well before the meeting starts." Jim shook his head. He wasn't looking forward to it. The meeting promised to be an extremely lengthy one. A 'slight' problem was putting it mildly. The venture was in one hell of a mess, quite possibly costing the company a significant amount of money if it wasn't solved in the correct way. Matthew Wheeler absolutely despised messes and wouldn't let anyone rest until they were resolved.

"You'll get it settled. I have no doubt about that." Trixie hastily swiped away the sweat beading on her forehead. Pulling off casual and relaxed around him was hard enough to begin with. When she figured in her red and perspiring face, it was even more difficult. Since she didn't have the bravery to bring up the issue lying between them, she pointed in the direction of his inherited plot of land and rocked back on her heels, unable to stand completely still. "What were you doing up at Ten Acres?"

"I wanted to stop by before we headed out," he answered with a shrug. Ten Acres was a favored place for him to brood which was becoming a specialty of his. So much had happened to him there over the years. All of it seemed to begin and end with the woman standing in front of him. The realization caused a frown to settle.

"That's right. You're going to be breaking ground soon." She looked up the driveway, missed the disconcerted expression cross over his face. The image of a log cabin floated before her eyes. While the house certainly suited him, she couldn't help but be saddened over the home that should have graced the place. A big blue farmhouse. If wishes were horses…she ruthlessly reminded herself. It was harder to keep her smile in place but somehow she persevered. There would be time for personal regrets later. Desperate to ward off her thoughts, she questioned, "Will you be overseeing a lot of the building?"

Jim ignored the slight increase in the rain. It was only falling intermittently; wasn't a hindrance yet by any stretch. Besides, he barely felt it landing on his shoulders, was more content to concentrate on her. With his time of departure rapidly approaching, he was definitely willing to spend a few extra minutes with her. "It'll be hard but I'll do what I can. I may have to flex some time at work. My dad's okay with that. It'll be worth it." Closing his mouth, he wondered why they were talking about such boring, mundane things. There was so much more that should be said between them and, yet, he had no idea how to open either of the subjects up.

The same affliction hit her. Having no clue how to bring up the failed romantic interlude between them, Trixie continued along on the easy and polite route. "Honey and Brian are on their honeymoon. Dan drove back to the city yesterday. You're leaving today and I'm flying back to San Diego on Wednesday," she shared, her fingers tapping against a knee, the only outward sign that she was more nervous than she was letting on. "That only leaves Mart and Di here to hold down the home front until the newlyweds return."

He lifted his head, startled. She was supposed to have another full week at home. "Did you get called in early?"

Her ponytail danced with her nod. She put her hands on her hips, unconsciously causing her sweatshirt to stretch across her torso. "Yeah. Max called me and said that he needed me back earlier than expected. There were two messages waiting for me from him when I got home on Saturday night."

And there it was. Innocently brought up but powerful in the extreme. Jim saw the exact moment she realized what she said. Her big blue eyes became even larger and the smile she had kept on her face momentarily stumbled off before she resolutely pasted it back on. But it wasn't as bright as it had been and it didn't come close to reaching her eyes. She couldn't fool him. It was the only sign he could find that she wasn't as comfortable as she appeared to be. "Right. Saturday," he mumbled, a flush creeping up his neck. Their Saturday night together had been a major highlight for him.

There was only four feet of dirt, tufts of wild grass, and a few loose stones between them. However, it may as well have been a mile over impassable rocky terrain. She didn't know how to bridge it; neither did he. Choosing to ignore the big issue between them, she shook her head until her curls bounced wildly around her face and started speaking, her face becoming redder with each passing second, "I hadn't looked at my cell since Friday morning. Max called sometime during the rehearsal and again on Saturday afternoon. He said it wasn't urgent so I didn't call him back until yesterday. That's when he told me about the change in plans." Her words came out fast, almost quicker than her mind could think them. Anything, anything to get them out of her mouth before he mentioned their brief interlude together.

It didn't matter how fast or slow or how simple or complicated her speech was. He couldn't get past the word Saturday and what almost transpired between them. The need to talk to her, to find out what she thought about it, flourished and grew. Dark green eyes rounded back at her, leveled on her and wouldn't let go. Taking the figurative plunge, he began, "About Saturday…"

Her head snapped back so fast she was surprised she didn't have whiplash. All composure slipped, right before his very eyes. She went pale under her flushed face. Stunned by his decision not to ignore it, her eyes immediately slid to his lips and then slid away, to become trapped in the emerald green again. "Yes?" she croaked out, feeling like an adolescent again and absolutely hating it.

Jim's fingers were itching to reach for her, to caress her face in a carbon copy move from that night. He balled them up, pressed them hard to his sides to keep them still. "I don't know about you but I could have cheerfully murdered my parents," he declared, the closest he could get to sharing what he wanted most.

Dark amusement danced briefly across her face. Of all the things she expected him to say that was the very least. She almost took a step forward but caught herself in time "If you'd wanted to, I would have been right there with you," she admitted faintly, regret for what could have happened as obvious as the burgeoning signs of spring sprouting up all around them.

Her softly whispered answer delighted him, made his grin slowly grow and spread. He couldn't get over it. She hated the interruption, too. It was like balm to a continuous ache on his soul. Taking in a deep breath, he figured now was the time to go even farther and opened up another subject between them. He watched her closely, needing to see her reaction to his small confession. He had to know how she felt about it. "After my father escorted you to the car, I read your letter."

"Letter? What letter?" What did a letter and an interrupted clandestine meeting of the passionate kind have to do with each other? Cocking her head to the side, she looked at him through impossibly clear eyes, completely confused and totally in the dark on this one. It didn't make a lick of sense to her. She couldn't remember sending him a letter. Forget letters. She never used the simplest modes of communication with him, like a text or an email. What was he talking about? Her forehead wrinkled in confusion as she tried in vain to puzzle it out.

"Your letter," he repeated more forcefully. When it still didn't penetrate the thick haze of confusion surrounding her brain, understanding that no more clarification would be needed once he added the next words, Jim continued, "You remember, Trixie. It was the one you wrote me a few summers ago."

An instantaneous flash of insight, as sharp as the next drop of rain to hit her on the face. Trixie covered a sharp gasp of surprise with her hand and stammered out, "Oh! Yes. Right. That letter." He read the letter? She couldn't believe it. She remembered, better than anything she'd ever written, exactly what was in that particular letter. The passage of time hadn't dimmed her memory in the least. And he had actually read it? Honey told her a long time ago about his refusal to even accept the letter, let alone open it and view its contents. Good Lord but the fact that he had astounded her. She almost took a step back but forced herself to stand strong. Her voice was incredibly controlled while a maelstrom of conflicting emotions swirled through her. "I remember now."

"It was quite a letter," he stated into the sudden, eerie quiet surrounding them. All that could be heard was the wet rain plopping against the ground. Letting her know that he'd finally read it wasn't enough. Not after everything that had happened between them. Deciding the most straightforward response was the best and only way to go, he murmured, "I'm sorry it took me so long to read it."

"No. No. There's no need for you to be sorry," she hastened to assure him through the roaring in her ears. She was having trouble believing that he had actually read her words, her attempt at an explanation for changing her plans so quickly and without notice. With the way she'd left him and Sleepyside, she hadn't actually expected the letter to survive, let alone see the light of any day or, in this case, night. It was almost unfathomable to her that it was still in existence. Her pretty face reflected her growing shock. "Please, Jim. Don't worry about it. It's not a big deal."

It was a much bigger deal than she realized. Deciding to let sleeping dogs lie for the moment, he chose not to share that he would have gone after her once his own feelings had calmed down. Instead, he focused on her response. Trust her to try and make him feel better about his foray into stubbornness. Always thinking of others, a trait he'd often admired in her. "I am sorry," he reiterated vehemently. "I should have read it sooner."

"If we're going to play that game, then I should have talked to you before I left," Trixie shot back quickly, unable to let him shoulder all the blame. In her mind, it had always been a fifty-fifty split, as much her fault as it was his. Until this moment she had never realized that the remorse also resided along the same chasm.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. Even with the powerful kiss, the interrupted moment, and the shared confidences, the road still stretched out behind them, long and broken, and he didn't know how to repair all of the cracks and fractures to it or if they could ever be truly fixed. "Well," he began and stopped. There wasn't much else to say.

For once, they were in perfect agreement. She didn't have anything to add to it. "Well," Trixie repeated back, her mouth curving enough to bring out her dimples and a spark of amusement flaring in her eyes. The single word said so much.

Amazingly enough, her answer brought a short bark of laughter out of him. He didn't move forward. He didn't reach for her. But the relaxation he experienced was the most and the truest form in the longest of times. Not adding anything else to it, thinking more had been said in a few spoken words between them than in the years of stilted, polite conversation since that faraway summer, he put the next offer out there, a little unsteady, a little unsure, but ready to make it. "You know, since we are both leaving, we should actually make an attempt to get into contact with each other."

"I'm sure our friends get just a little tired of being our go-betweens." She held her thumb and index finger up, allowing only the tiniest bit of air to reside in-between them. All of the Bob-Whites weren't exactly fond of relaying messages between their former co-presidents. She knew it. He knew it. Both had relied on them since it had simply been the easiest way all around. Because their friends loved them, they had enabled it.

"I'm sure they are." He gave a curt shake of his head. Honey, the one they utilized the most, had told him the exact same thing on more than one occasion. She would appreciate a demotion in that particular job. "Honey programmed your numbers into my cell a while back."

Trixie's breath caught in her throat as the implication sank in. He meant to call. Hell, he wanted to call. Quietly, she admitted, "She did the same thing to me with yours. I have all of them."

"Good." He nodded once, glad to know that she had his information and took a small, almost involuntary step forward, unsure of what his exact motive for moving was. To touch, to hold, to kiss…he didn't exactly know. But his phone chirped, startling him back to reality. "Sorry," he mumbled as he pulled the phone out and read the impatient text message. He flipped the phone closed, tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans and faced her. His time was over. "It's from my dad. He wants his coffee." That wasn't all. Matthew Wheeler also wanted to get on the road before the traffic leading into the city got too congested.

"It's probably getting cold by now." She blew out a small breath and glanced up at the sky. The clouds were becoming much darker and more ominous looking, a natural indicator to the end of their time together. It wasn't going to be a pleasant spring rain for much longer. "Have a safe trip back to the city. It doesn't look like it's going to be a great day for you to drive."

"Or you to run. Are you sure you don't want a ride home?" When she gave a negative shake of her head, he didn't press it. "Enjoy your flight back to San Diego, Trix." Rooted to the ground, he didn't make a single move to move, only stared down into her face. She didn't look any more prepared to leave him, either. Unconsciously, he memorized every feature, from the sapphire blue of her eyes to the heightened color in her cheeks to her soft, full and alluring lips. Every little bit would help while he was in NYC and she was on the West Coast. With the high demands of his job and the uncertain hours she kept, there was no telling when their paths would cross again.

"I will." She smiled, a slow, small smile, for once on the exact wavelength as him. It was astonishing to see the same emotions reflecting back at her from his handsome face. "See you soon," she whispered, unable to make her voice go any louder.

Not soon enough was the response he swallowed back. With a slight scowl marring his face, for the first time absolutely loathing the fact that he had to leave Sleepyside, he nodded and turned back to his SUV. "Soon," he repeated under his breath, hopefully, and trudged away. The fact that they both had extremely busy schedules that often did not coincide wasn't the most promising but he chose to overlook it. They had to see each other again. It would happen. Somehow.

Trixie didn't budge from her spot, shocked to her sweaty toes by his one word answer. She watched him climb into his vehicle, toss another glance her way and answered his wave with one of her own. Her heart cried out a silent protest when he closed the door. As Jim pulled out onto Glen Road and drove away, the rain began to pick up in earnest, a perfect mate for her emotions. It stung her skin but it didn't bother her. She welcomed the chill of it, the force of it, the sheer volume of it. Since evading raindrops wasn't an option, she ran straight through the downpour and followed the road that led to her house. Only one thought rattled around in her mind, becoming stronger with each pound of her feet. It practically begged to be uttered. Eyes narrowed, mouth twisted, she grumbled disconsolately, her mood in perfect accord with the clouds above, "Separate lives suck."

This is the end of the second installment in The Breakaway Trilogy. The last story is titled The Broken Road. It will begin soon and is the final installment where all loose ends will be tied up. Thanks, as always, to Joyce, my sister and to Pam. I appreciate all your help so much!