by Kelli Warner
CHAPTER THIRTY
Paige
Saturday is a slow morning at the bookstore. Two hours into my shift, Macy appears in the doorway of the back room, where I’m organizing boxes of inventory. I use the term “organize” loosely because Macy has a pretty good system for keeping everything in its place. She eyes the room and says, “You should take off.”
“Really?” I ask. I’ve never been sent home early before.
She rests her hands on her hips and studies the clock. “Yeah. I’m not expecting things to pick up. I’ve got some bookkeeping work to do, so I can hold down the fort. No sense in both of us being here on a beautiful day.”
She doesn’t have to say it twice. Within fifteen minutes, I am out of the store and in my car, wondering what I’m going to do with myself for an entire Saturday. I’m not going home, that’s for sure. I don’t care if I’m grounded; I can’t stand being in that house with Jay. I can barely look at him, now that I know the truth about what a terrible human being he is.
I consider calling Cade but quickly dismiss the idea. I haven’t yet figured out a way to grovel for forgiveness that doesn’t end with him blocking my number. After our New Year’s Eve fiasco, I’m what one would call a chicken. A scaredy-cat. A wimp. Or just a plain old baby. Yup, that’s how I’ve spent my time, looking up alternatives to the word “coward” in a thesaurus I found on a shelf in the back room.
I want to make things right with Cade, more than anything. I miss him. But I think I may have jacked things up beyond repair this time. Part of me hoped he would be the one to reach out and put me out of my misery, that he would drop by the bookstore today like he always does on Saturdays, but he’s apparently gone off the grid. Or he’s just really good at avoiding me.
I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. I know what I want to do today. I stop at a nearby convenience store, filling my gas tank and grabbing a large fountain drink, readying myself for my first solo road trip since arriving in Mystic. I pull up the Maps app on my phone, plug in my destination and hit the highway. When I reach the Eugene city limits, I call my cousin Tyler, and he gives me directions to campus.
As I carefully maneuver my car along side streets looking for a parking spot, I can’t wait to see Ty. I didn’t realize just how much I’ve missed him until he was so close. Tyler and I share a bond that I don’t have with anyone else. He’s the only person who hasn’t tried to get me to open up about losing my mom. He’s always been there for me, no matter what, to make me laugh or to give me a shoulder to lean on when I just want to be quiet.
Fifteen minutes later, after I’ve essentially hugged the crap out of him, Tyler and I are seated in the student union sipping steaming lattes. Apparently, Tyler’s been up to his eyeballs studying for a political science test, so my call was a pleasant surprise.
“This is a spontaneous trip,” he says, raising a questioning eyebrow.
“It was slow at work today,” I answer. I meet skeptical eyes, so I add, “I wanted to see how the frat boys live. How’s the food here?”
Tyler gives his abdomen a contented pat, intentionally sticking it out to make it appear stuffed. The truth is, he’s in excellent shape, and I’m pretty sure a person could scrub laundry on his washboard abs.
“And how goes the rest of college life?” I ask.
The corners of his lips turn up, confirming what I’d already guessed—college life is excellent when you’re as attractive as my cousin. Long stares from passing females only serve to validate my theory. Tyler notices them also. Occasionally, his eyes linger on a leggy blonde or an athletic brunette, but his eyes always return to me, along with his attention to our conversation.
By the looks of us, you can’t tell that we’re related. Ty was blessed with the sparkling blue eyes of the Bryant clan, just like my mother. Inconspicuously, I take in his broad jaw, high cheekbones and the curve of his chin and decide those must come from his father’s side of the family. Uncle Trevor and Aunt Faye split up when Tyler was eight years old. I don’t remember Ty’s dad very well. Mostly what I remember is that he traveled a lot, and Faye and Tyler were often on their own.
“Look, Paige, I love that you came to visit me, but I think there’s another reason you’re here.” He takes the last swallow from his cardboard cup and chucks it over my head and into the trash can behind me.
“Impressive,” I say. “The basketball team is missing out.”
“Actually, there’s a group of guys from fraternity row who get together for pick-up games at the rec center twice a week. I’m their secret weapon.” He grins and pats my knee. “Come on, let’s take a walk.”
We stroll across campus, with Tyler pointing out the buildings where he has classes. But to my dismay, he hasn’t forgotten that I’ve dodged his question about my visit twice now. He asks me about it again. We wander past the library before I finally say, “Things are bad, Ty. I just don’t fit into my life in Mystic. At all.”
“Are the Chapmans making things hard for you?”
Jay lied to me. That’s what I want to say, but I don’t.
“Are you not getting along with their kids?” Tyler prods.
“No, they’re fine,” I tell him.
His brows furrow. “Then what’s the deal?”
It seems like such a simple question. But it’s not. It’s complicated in so many ways, and the thought of dredging it all up for Tyler exhausts me. “I just feel like I should never have gone there. It’s like I’m an intruder and their lives can’t really get back to normal until I’m gone.”
Tyler’s eyes remain trained on the path in front of us, his expression unreadable. “Sounds to me like you don’t want to fit,” he finally says.
“What does that mean?” Tyler picks up his pace, forcing me to do the same. “Hey! You can’t just say something like that to me and keep walking.” I have to grab the hem of his jacket to get him to stop.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Well, you did, so now explain yourself.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Look, Paige,” Tyler sighs. I can tell he’s struggling with how to phrase his next sentence. “Your world has been completely turned upside down. I can’t even begin to understand how you feel.” I appreciate him acknowledging my feelings, but before I can say so, he continues with, “But at some point, you’ve got to right it. You’re the only one who can.”
This time, I’m the one who starts walking. I have no idea where I’m going, but I know Tyler is following me when I hear him say, “Hey, guys” to two people passing by on my right. One of them, a tall guy with blond hair who’s wearing a green sweatshirt with a yellow “O” on it, winks at me.
“Frat brothers,” Tyler says as he falls into step with me. I refuse to look at him. “Come on, I’m sorry. Don’t be mad.”
“You’re saying that I’m making this situation harder than it needs to be. That I’m trying to make sure it doesn’t work. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”
Tyler’s silence is deafening. I’m not exactly sure what is happening right now. One minute we’re drinking coffee and talking about college life and the next I’m having to defend myself to a guy who hasn’t seen me in more than three months and doesn’t have a clue what I’ve been dealing with.
“Come with me,” Tyler says. “There’s something I want you to see.”
Reluctantly, I follow him across the sprawling lawn of the library, and we make our way to a scholarly looking brick building. After climbing three flights of stairs, I’m just about ready to tell Tyler I’ve had enough. That’s when he stops and leads me over to the railing. We look down into an ample space with shiny hardwood floors, wall-to-wall mirrors and about a dozen people in dancer’s attire moving to music coming from a piano I can’t see.
From our vantage point, the dancers are oblivious to us, gliding about the floor in beautiful, graceful performance. An icy chill shoots from the base of my skull straight down to my toes as an enormous lump forms in
my throat.
“Why did you bring me here?” The hollow, empty words tumble from my numb lips.
“Mom says you refuse to dance since Abby—”
I shove myself away from the railing as if it’s searing-hot metal biting into my palms, and I back against the wall, far enough away that the dancers are out of sight. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“That’s the problem, Paige. You don’t want to talk about it, but you need to. Shutting out the world, the people who are trying to be here for you and the things you love isn’t gonna bring her back.”
“Stop.” I clasp my hands behind my neck and shake my head repeatedly.
“Look, I didn’t say anything before because you don’t need a million people giving you advice, but you need to hear this,” Tyler says, placing his firm hands on my shoulders. I stare at his shoes.
“You love to dance. And your mom was a huge part of that. You can’t just give it up because she’s no longer here, Paige. Abby wouldn’t want that. You know she wouldn’t.”
The lump in my throat doubles in size, threatening to choke the life out of me. Tyler takes my arm and gently pulls me back to the railing. “Look down there. That is what you should be doing. You love it, and you’re amazing at it.” I pry at his fingers, but his hold is firm. “You know I’m right. Just admit it.”
Again, I’m shaking my head, and I feel sick, like I’m about to lose everything inside me—my latte, my sanity, everything.
“Not dancing isn’t gonna bring her back.”
“I can’t do that without her!” I yell, the echo of my unexpected outburst slicing through the empty space around us, startling myself and Tyler. In one quick movement, I manage to yank my arm free and push myself away from him. He can’t possibly know how this feels. He isn’t the one who lost the center of his world. He isn’t the one who found his life instantly turned upside down and every plan he’d made for his future suddenly so far out of reach, it literally paralyzes him with fear. “You don’t get it.”
“Then help me understand,” he begs.
“I didn’t come here for a lecture, Tyler!”
“I’m not lecturing you, Paige. I love you. You’re acting like your life is over, but you are still here. Don’t throw away a God-given talent that makes you happy.”
I don’t say goodbye to Tyler. I bolt down the stairs and out of the building, running as fast as I can across the campus to my car. And with each step, I feel more alone than I have ever been in my entire life.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Cade
I read Paige’s text for the third time, just to make sure I didn’t imagine it. She asks me to meet her at the jetty, and it takes me only a handful of seconds to respond and tell her I’ll be there. It’s been the longest week of my life, and at this point, I’ve replayed that awful night at her house so many times, it’s all become an ugly blur, and I’m not really sure who should be angry with whom anymore.
Paige is waiting in the parking lot when I pull in. She jumps out of her car and throws her arms around me, nearly knocking me off balance as I climb off my bike.
“Hey!” I laugh. “Take it easy.”
“I didn’t think you’d come.” She pulls me down for a kiss. I go willingly, and she knots her fingers through my hair, drawing me closer with undeniable desperation.
When she finally allows me to pull back, I’m breathless. “What was that?”
“That’s me saying I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about everything! You are so important to me, and I handled things badly with Jay. Please forgive me. You have to forgive me,” she begs. The green flecks in her eyes blaze with regret, and they melt away any remaining strife between us. The brisk wind whips her long, dark hair and I smooth back the wayward strands from her forehead. I’ve missed being able to touch her like this.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” I say. “It wasn’t all your fault. I shouldn’t have left the way I did the other night, and I’m sorry about that.” Paige wraps her arms around my waist, drawing me into another tight hug, and she’s shaking. I hold her against my chest, rubbing her back until she begins to relax and her shallow breaths even out. “What’s going on?”
Without a word, Paige takes my hand, and we walk down onto the beach, which is fairly deserted for a late Saturday afternoon. There’s a family with two small children playing by the water, a couple walking their dog and a man who looks like he’s scouting for seashells. We move past all of them to the south end of the beach near the jetty. When we’re finally alone, Paige pulls me into another long embrace.
“I’ve been pretty lost without you this past week,” she says. “Jay and I aren’t talking.”
I expel a long breath, not surprised by that piece of information, but bothered by it. “I never wanted to cause problems between you and your dad. That wasn’t my intention.”
“Jay and I have a lot more problems than I realized.”
“I think he just wants what’s best for you.” She expels a derisive grunt, and I narrow my eyes. “Why do you do that?”
“I’m so tired of people telling me what they think is best for me,” she says, then she recounts the last four hours of her day and her trip to Eugene to visit her cousin. She rehashes the whole unpleasant conversation between the two of them, and when she finishes, she looks to me for my reaction. I know what she wants me to say, but instead, I chew on the inside of my cheek and divert my gaze to the rolling shoreline.
“Do you think I overreacted?” she asks. “Do you think Ty was right?”
I have two choices here. I can tell Paige that her cousin had no right to talk to her like that, given what she’s been through, and that whether or not she decides to dance again or hang it up for good is no one else’s business. Or I could tell her the truth—that I think Tyler is right. He and Paige are close—she’s told me that on numerous occasions—which means he probably knows her better than anyone else, certainly better than I do. I’ve never had the opportunity to see Paige dance, and maybe I never will, but I know it’s been a considerable part of her life and I don’t think her cousin would risk his relationship with her by saying those things unless he knew it was important that she hear them.
“None of us gets to choose what happens to us,” I say. “But Paige, you can choose how you respond. Maybe you should have heard him out.”
“Not you too!” she huffs, drawing back.
“I’m sorry. I’m trying to help you.”
“Are you? Are you really?” she demands. “Because, quite frankly, helping me means being on my side.”
“No, it doesn’t,” I correct.
“Well, it sure as hell doesn’t mean lecturing me.” She throws up her hands. “You’re just like Tyler!”
Two minutes ago, her arms were wrapped around me like she couldn’t get close enough, and now—she’s pissed. Even though I know I’m not the direct source of her anger, that it’s a residual response to her conversation with her cousin, it doesn’t erase the fact that she’s shooting daggers at me. “I wasn’t lecturing you,” I say calmly, reaching for her hand, but she pulls away. “Come on, don’t be like that.”
“You can’t possibly understand what I’ve been through. You don’t get it.”
My eyes widen. “What exactly don’t you think I get?” She doesn’t say a word, but the silence between us speaks volumes. Her cold eyes hold my gaze, then drop away, her unspoken words pummeling me with realization.
I blink hard. “Are you—are you saying what I think you’re saying?” I open my palms as if I’m expecting reason to drop from the sky and back into the space between us at any minute. “You really think that because my mom died of cancer and not in a horrific tragedy like yours, that I can’t possibly feel her loss the way you do?” Never have so many unspoken words struck me so hard. A simple shrug of Paige’s shoulders is all I get in response, but it’s all the confirmation I need. Astonishment seizes hold of my entire body, and I blanch as her absurd accusations fully register
. “I cannot believe you would think that.” She still refuses to respond or meet my eyes. A new wave of disappointment rolls through me, and the mere two feet of space between us grows expansive and icy cold. “I lost a piece of my world the day my mom died. So don’t you dare tell me that I don’t get it.”
“But it wasn’t your fault!” she cries. Paige tilts her head skyward and gulps in air like she’s been searching for eternity for just one pure breath. “You couldn’t stop what happened to your mom,” she says, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyelids as if to suppress the agony swirling inside her. “You couldn’t save your mom—but I could have saved mine.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Paige
If I were a supervillain, my evil power would undoubtedly be wounding people with my thoughts. I don’t need words. The hurt I’ve inflicted on Cade is unmistakable, radiating in his hard, brown eyes.
Cade was thirteen when he’d lost his mom. She’d been sick. There wasn’t anything he could do about it, but he’d known it was coming. He’d had time. He’d had days, weeks, even months to say everything he’d needed to say, to hug and kiss her over and over. He’d had time to say the goodbyes that I would have sold my soul to have with my mother—to have just one more day, a handful of minutes at the very least. It wasn’t Cade’s fault that I’d been cheated out of more time with my mom, but without even allowing the words to make contact with the air, I’d managed to dismiss his pain like it didn’t matter as if it pales in comparison to mine. I’ve cut him deep, and that isn’t fair. That doesn’t give me supervillain status—it just makes me a brat. A brat who just revealed something I haven’t shared with anyone else until now.
“How could you have saved your mom?” Cade asks.
I can’t look at him. I drop to my knees in the sand, no longer able to shoulder the full weight of everything I’ve kept inside me all these months. If it all ends here, I might as well go out with a bang. I swallow hard. “The night my mom died—it shouldn’t have happened. I could have stopped it.” Shame burns in each syllable.