He Planned Her Ocean Trip, I Booked a Different One Chapter 05

He Planned Her Ocean Trip, I Booked a Different One Chapter 05

The Amtrak train to Seabluff picked up speed.

The platform outside blurred into a gray smear as it slid backward.

Gavin sat by the window, gripping a bottle of water he’d just bought. The plastic crinkled under his fingers.

“Gavin, look at this guide!””

Sully leaned in, phone nearly pressed to his face.

“Everyone online says this seafood place is amazing. We should go tonight, yeah?

Gavin grunted, not looking up from his own screen.

Too quiet.

Half an hour since they’d boarded, and June hadn’t texted once.

With her old habits, she’d already be blowing up his phone-complaining about something, or dropping an

angry emoji, waiting for him to come smooth things over.

She always did that. “Breaking up” was just code for “come chase me.

He pulled up their thread.

The last message was from three days ago: “Got stuff tonight. Be home late.”

June hadn’t replied.

He scrolled up. Then stopped.

She hadn’t reached out first in a long time. No random updates. No venting about work. No pointless small

talk.

A knot tightened in his chest.

“Gavin, are you even listening?”

Sully tugged his sleeve, her tone sliding into a whine.

He pulled his arm free and said nothing.

Then he opened his texts.

Amid the clutter of verification codes and spam was one message from Amtrak.

He tapped it.

His eyes locked.

It was a refund confirmation. June’s ticket for Car 10 had been canceled days ago.

His brain went static.

The water bottle slipped from his hand, hit the tray table, and spilled everywhere.

“Gavin, what the hell!”

Sully yelped, grabbing napkins to dab at her skirt.

He didn’t even hear her.

He shot up and bolted for the back of the car.

“Gavin, where are you going?” she called after him.

He didn’t answer.

The automatic doors between cars slid open and shut.

The aisle was packed-people hauling luggage, others balancing cups of instant noodles. Gavin shoved

through them, stumbling forward. Someone swore at him. He didn’t look back.

His breathing went ragged. His chest felt like it was caving in.

Canceled?

June canceled her ticket?

She wasn’t just throwing a fit?

She’d dragged that enormous suitcase all the way to the station.

How could she-

He slammed the door open to Car 10.

Noise hit him–a kid crying, someone’s phone blasting a video.

His eyes locked on Row 8, Seat F.

By the window sat a middle-aged guy, head tipped back, snoring.

Gavin froze. Blood drained from his face.

He charged forward and slapped the guy’s shoulder.

The man jolted awake and glared.

“What’s your problem?”

“Is this your seat?” Gavin’s voice cracked.

“No, it’s yours?” The guy shoved his phone in Gavin’s face. The e-ticket was right there: Car 10, Seat 08F.

Gavin stared at the seat number. His eyes burned.

He fumbled for his phone, hands shaking too hard to unlock the screen. Finally got it open. Called June.

A cold automated voice: “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service…”

He called again. Same thing.

He switched to messages.

[June, where are you?]

He hit send, but no “Delivered” status appeared beneath it.

[June Miller has you blocked. You are not friends on this platform.]

Gavin slumped against the wall between cars.

Outside, unfamiliar scenery raced by.

He stared at the empty aisle, something heavy settling in his chest.

June wasn’t on this train.

She was really gone.