Blossom Street. Debbie Macomber

and panting, he maneuvered it down the stairs—no elevator in her building—while she carried her backpack and purse.

      When they reached the bottom, Chrissie cast him a woebegone look. “I wish I didn’t have to leave.”

      “It’ll be fine,” he said without meeting her eyes. But that could’ve been because he was busy hoisting the suitcase into his trunk.

      Still, his offhand remark startled her. “It will?” She found that hard to believe.

      “I’ll miss you like crazy, but before we know it you’ll be back.”

      His cavalier attitude was completely unexpected. She wanted him to feel as bereft as she did; obviously he didn’t. Eyeing him closely, she wondered if she was reading more into his comment than warranted. She didn’t want to sound like a whiny ten-year-old, but she was taken aback by his response.

      She decided not to overreact. “You’re right, of course. Besides, I can come and visit you over the Fourth of July.”

      “You can?”

      “Sure, why not?” she asked.

      “Don’t you want to save your money for school?”

      She shrugged, as if financial concerns were of little significance. She’d assumed he’d leap at the suggestion. Apparently not. A moment later, Jason took Chrissie by the shoulders and astonished her by kissing her long and hard. Normally, he frowned on public displays of affection, but today nothing about him was the same. She reveled in his moist lips molding to hers as he held her close. “Next summer…” she whispered.

      “Next summer?”

      “I’ll find a way to stay in Oregon.”

      “Good.” With that, he placed her backpack carefully beside the heavy bag and shut the trunk.

      “First things first,” she said as Jason opened the passenger door.

      He hesitated, looking puzzled.

      “I have to convince my mother to let me move out of the dorm before I talk to her about staying in Eugene next summer,” she elaborated.

      “You really have a thing about your mother, don’t you?”

      “What do you mean?” Chrissie flared.

      “You always seem worried about what she’s going to say.”

      His observation irritated her. “That’s not true.” She didn’t want to argue, but he’d totally missed the point.

      “You just said you had to get your mother to agree that you can rent with Joan and Katie,” he murmured. “For the last week, ever since final exams, you’ve been complaining about going home and having to deal with her. Not once did you mention your dad.”

      “My father is the more reasonable of the two.” She was furious that Jason would even suggest she had a problem with her mother.

      “From what I understand, it’s fairly common, you know? Mother-daughter conflict, I mean.”

      “Really?” Chrissie said coldly as she climbed into the passenger seat and without waiting closed the door. She fastened the seat belt while Jason walked around to the other side of the vehicle.

      “You and your mother seem to have these underlying issues,” he said when he got into the car. He inserted the key into the ignition.

      She stared at him, annoyed that he was pursuing the subject. “Are you trying to start a fight?” she asked, refusing to be drawn into one.

      Jason turned to her, then gradually smiled. “Not really. Are you?”

      “No.”

      “Good.” He pulled away from the curb.

      “You don’t act as if you’re going to miss me all that much,” she said, and immediately wanted to swallow her words. They made her seem insecure and she wasn’t.

      “What makes you say that?”

      “Nothing.” She shook her head.

      “Is it because I didn’t encourage you to fly down for the Fourth of July? If so, the reason—aside from not wanting you to spend the airfare—is that I already have plans.”

      “You do?”

      “My parents asked me to visit them and I said I would.”

      It didn’t escape Chrissie’s notice that he didn’t invite her to join him and his family.

      “Are you glad I’m leaving Eugene?” she asked. She knew he’d be staying; he was fortunate enough to have a full-time summer job with a big law firm. His family lived in Grants Pass, a couple of hours away.

      Jason sighed as if she were behaving like a difficult child. “Forget I asked,” she snapped. “It was a stupid question.”

      “Yes, it was,” Jason said. He gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “Why are you being so sensitive?”

      He was right; she was overreacting, even though she’d vowed not to. “Maybe I don’t want to go back to Seattle for the summer. Maybe I’d rather be here with you instead of trapped in a house with my mother for the next ten weeks.” The moment she mentioned her mother, Chrissie realized she’d said the wrong thing.

      “Why don’t you talk to her, then?”

      “About what? My relationship with her? My mother’s so caught up in her own world that she can’t be bothered with me.”

      Jason stopped at a traffic signal. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

      “How would you know? You only met her once.” Chrissie had brought Jason home at Easter and he’d spent three days with her family. The visit had been a success on all counts.

      As they’d pulled out of the family driveway, Chrissie had basked in her parents’ approval. Both of them had liked Jason immensely.

      “You have wonderful parents, Chrissie,” he said now.

      “Yes—but my mother’s going to make my life hell this summer. She’s upset with me for not having a job, although she’d never come right out and say so. Instead, she’ll find a hundred different things to criticize.”

      “I thought you were going to look for a job over spring break,” Jason reminded her.

      “I was, but I got busy—the time just slipped away. Don’t you start on me, too.”

      “Chrissie…”

      “You have no idea what this summer’s going to be like.”

      “Oh, come on, Chrissie. It’s not—”

      “Let me give you an example,” she broke in, “and this is based on experience. Mom will ask me to clean the bathroom and I will. Then she’ll come in after me and scrub the sink all over again. This is her way of letting me know that I didn’t meet her high standards.” The summer stretched before Chrissie like one long exercise in tolerance and patience. “If she didn’t like how I cleaned the sink, you’d think she’d just say so, but oh, no, not my mother.”

      Jason muttered something noncommittal.

      “Brian has a job,” she continued. “Mom’s already mentioned that fact about fifty times. He’s working for a construction company.”

      “You’re making too much of this.”

      “I don’t think so,” Chrissie muttered. “What she’s really saying is that if I’d looked for a job like she wanted me to over spring break, I’d have one waiting for me now.” She could imagine the constant barrage of digs that lay in store for her. Her mother couldn’t bear the thought of Chrissie being idle all summer, so she’d threaten to line up babysitting jobs for her. Babysitting at almost twenty? In Chrissie’s opinion, that was cruel and