The one place I’ll always belong.
Chapter 47
Rayne
T
he hangry sweet-tooth beast has crept up inside me, demanding to be fed. Rather than instigate World War Three by trying to ignore it, Preston and I launch a full-scale attack on the kitchen, making brownies, cookies, and Rice Krispie treats. He’s sliding a pan of brownies into the oven when the doorbell rings.
“Who in the world could that be?” He looks back over his shoulder.
“Probably the mailman. He delivers late on Saturdays, and I’m expecting a few packages for the nursery.” I hoist the mixing bowl under my arm while still stirring the chocolate chip batter. “I’ll get it.”
I wipe my hand on my apron and yank the door open. With a gasp, I drop the bowl to the hardwood. The spoon flips out, littering the floor with dough, and I slap my hand over my gaping mouth.
It’s not the mailman. He stands there in camouflage—not the hunting variety. The official kind. His back’s to me, but I know who it is before he even turns around because the chill bumps scatter over every surface and the baby kicks.
“Gage?” I whisper. My breath hitches in my throat causing a bout of lightheadedness that makes me grab the door to brace myself. “You came home?”
He turns, the nameplate on his uniform spells out “HOWARD” in bold letters, his blue eyes the same as always. “Of course I came home.” He wipes away a few tears escaping down my cheeks. Maybe it’s the hormones due to our child growing deep within me, or an absence-making-the-heart-grow-fonder thing, but instantly, those same old feelings surge through my body. Our hiatus has only amplified them.
We stare at each other before Gage speaks, “Rayne, I… I had to…” But Preston interrupts from behind, and Gage’s eyes widen as if he’s seeing a ghost.
“Gage? What the hell bro? How ya been?” He squeezes past me and bear hugs him, Gage’s eyes ever-fixed on me.
He backs up, looking back and forth between us. “What are you doing here, Pres?”
My stomach drops, and I hope all those tastes of brownie batter don’t revisit me.
Preston sighs. “If you’d call or text once in a while you might know…” He walks beside me, unties the apron and lets it fall. “Rayne’s pregnant.”
My eyes race to meet Gage’s. He alternates staring between my belly and my face, never visibly reacting to the news. He’s stone. Cold. The pain rips through me like a bullet, ricocheting with force.
“So… you and Preston…?” His voice shakes with the words.
“Preston was there for me when Mama died… when I needed someone.” Oh God. Only I can make an explanation slap him in the face. He’s too calm as he reaches out and shakes Preston’s hand then pulls me into a quick hug. The strength in his arms crushes me, like he’s trying to squeeze out the memories of us. And I want to scream at him for so easily believing I’ve moved on without him. To let him know this is his baby. To plead with him to take me away as fast as he can where no one will find us again. But I say nothing. Do nothing. I choke on the words as his arms circle me with an electric warmth. I drown in him.
He pulls away, not looking at either of us. “Congratulations. A baby changes everything.”
“That’s what they say,” Preston agrees. I’m now mute, terrified I’ll have no control over spilling the truth if I open my mouth. I want Gage to know this is his baby. I want it more than I want Preston to not get hurt.
Preston motions Gage in. “I figure you and Rayne should catch up. I’ll go finish up the brownies and dinner.” He stoops down and clears away the spilled batter. Before returning to the kitchen, he leans in to kiss my temple and whisper in my ear, “Remember. No decisions until after the baby’s born.”
Gage removes his camouflage cap and tucks it in the cargo pocket on the leg of his uniform as he moves through the foyer into the den—the very place he’d learned the truth that forever changed us. The memory slams into me, forcing me to the couch cushions. He sits beside me. Close. The need to kiss him starts as a shiver on my tongue that races down my neck and circulates deep in my breasts, where each beat of my heart becomes a magnetic pulse.
“So…” he starts, “Y’all are having a baby? I never imagined… I mean, I never… that’s great.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Life and its curveballs.”
“But y’all are doing the right thing.” He grimaces like the words are bitter on his tongue. “Raising the baby together is best. And you’re strong. Babies need their mama.”
“They need their daddy, too,” I whisper. God, why can’t he just look at me and know? See the truth?
“Preston’ll do good. As always.” Gage’s voice is somber as he stares at his boots. “Boy or girl?” He points at my belly.
I shrug my shoulders. “Waiting to find out.”
“On what?” he asks but clarifies himself almost immediately. “What are you waiting for?”
For you, dammit. I’m waiting on you to come back and be with me and the baby. “I… I just… hey! Feel this!” I pull his hand to my bump where our baby is doing acrobatics. The baby squirms and rolls in the womb, and Gage’s eyes widen at the sensation of each ripple beneath his palm.
This is so messed up. Here’s Gage, hand on my belly, unknowingly feeling his child happy and safe inside me. He looks at me, and I’m fighting the truth as it rises in my throat. “Gage…”
He pulls his hand away and throws it up like a stop sign. “Don’t” he interrupts, and I’m reminded of another time he said that to me at the Howard house party. “Everything is as it should be. You’ve moved on, and so have I. No regrets.”
The words sting because for at least one of us, it’s not true. I haven’t moved on, not even a little. I want him still, but now I can’t have him so I do what Gage always said I do best. Duck and cover and change the subject.
We talk about his military career, and he fills me in on the particulars of being a reserve soldier working as an aviation mechanic for attack helicopters. He’s been in training for the last twenty-five weeks, and it’s changed him. There’s no boy left in his voice. He’s all man, even tougher and harder than before. Except with me. A softness lingers in his eyes and lips when he looks at me, and it kills me to think he might be sharing that with someone else by now. So I don’t ask, because I don’t really want to know.
“The uniform suits you.” I finger the patch on his sleeve. His smile fades when Preston walks in.
“Dinner’s ready,” he says. “Who’s hungry?”
The silence at the table is heavy and awkward, no one knowing quite what to say. Instead the conversation centers on meaningless tidbits of local news. When we finish, Preston stacks the dirty dishes, the silverware clanging against the plates with each bobble as he heads for the kitchen sink.
Gage clears his throat. “Where’s your dad?”
“New Jersey.” I wipe the corners of my mouth with a napkin. “He travels more now that Mama’s gone. Keeps his mind off things.”
He nods and grabs my hand. “How ‘bout you? How are you since she’s gone?”
“Depends on the day,” I sigh. “I miss her, but she’s still here in a million little ways.” Like now, when Gage has come wandering back into my life the way she said he would.
Preston comes in with a plate of blonde brownies. Gage places one on his napkin but never actually takes a bite, only picks it apart with his fingers and leaves it lying there. After we finish, I stare at the sad, crumbled brownie that once looked so rich and promising and is now only a pile of nothing.
I give Gage the guest room at the top left of the stairs. Preston’s been staying there on occasion, but for tonight, he’ll camp at the foot of my bed on the blue chaise. Preston bear hugs Gage goodnight then slinks around the corner into my room.
The door clicks shut before we speak, and I pull his hand into mine. “I’m glad you’re home. I missed your face,” I whisper.
“I missed being here, but it looks as if everything’s worked out for all of us.” He quits looking at me and stares at his boots again.
“I guess so.” I don’t mean it. His moving on is destroying me and the future I promised our child. “I’m right next door.” I point to the wall our rooms share.
“Okay,” he mumbles and holds open the door.
I pause in the doorway and look back at him. He lifts his head to stare back. “I hope you’ll stay awhile?” I ask, my eyes burning with the tears threatening to overflow.
“Don’t know. We’ll see.” Short and unemotional. That’s never a good sign from Gage.
I nod then walk into the hallway as he shuts the door behind me. I don’t move. I stand there, hands on my belly, comforting my baby over the lost promise of a life with his or her daddy. Every inclination in my body begs me to burst through the door and tell him everything. And not just for the baby’s sake. I want him back, too. He’s my soulmate, my other half. Life’s been empty until he showed up on my doorstep a few hours ago. I long to hold him, the way I did in Edisto when we walked under the stars before making love. The memories are distant, the realization setting in this is truly over.
I panic, my heart butterflying in my chest, as I rush into my room and quickly sit on the bed, sucking in deep breaths to calm my racing pulse. Preston’s on the chair, elbows on his knees, hands clasped and held against his forehead. He doesn’t look up. “Gage has his own life now, Rayne. It doesn’t include you. Can’t you see that?”
“I do see that!” I scream at him. I hate him for saying the words out loud.
“Shhh! Keep your voice down. He’s right next door.” Preston points at the wall.
“So?” I throw my hands up in the air as the tears finally break free. “What the hell does it even matter anymore? My whole life’s a lie. Everything’s a mess, and this baby won’t have a father.”
Preston shoots to his feet, fire flashing in his eyes. “That’s not fair, Rayne. I’ve been this baby’s father in every sense of the word. You can’t see what you do have for grieving what you don’t!”
“I used to have it,” I sob. “He used to love me, but he doesn’t anymore.”
Preston grabs my shoulders and shakes gently. “I love you, Rayne, but you won’t give me the time of day because you’re clinging to a dream that’s never going to happen.” He bends down, his face close to mine. “Never!”
“Please don’t say that,” I whimper, pulling away and sinking face-first into my pillow.
“Keep living in this fantasy land.” His voice is cold, harsh.
I raise my head from the pillow as he walks to the other side of the room and glares at me over crossed arms. “I’m not living in a fantasy. I’m living in a hell of my own making!”
Suddenly he’s mimicking me in a sappy, sing-song voice. “Oh Gage, put your hand on my belly and feel the baby move.” He pauses and glowers at me, shaking his head. “Did you think he’d magically realize the truth and sweep you away to a happily ever after?”
“I… I…” I stammer.
The blood rushes to his face, tinting his cheeks pink. “I saw you in the reflection of the breakfast room windows, holding his hands on your belly. How do you think that makes me feel?” He’s whisper-yelling, but the anger is fading, replaced with hurt, as his shoulders slump.
“It’s killing you, Preston. I know! But I told you from the beginning I couldn’t make promises. I love you. I do, but Gage has my heart. I can’t give you something he has.” There’s no plainer way to say it.
He sits beside me on the bed, his breath ragged and uneven in the lull of our fighting. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You’re right. You warned me, and I wouldn’t listen.” He looks at the floor and pats my thigh.
“Forgive me, Preston. You deserve so much better than this. I only want you to be happy.” I grab his hand and cradle it to my cheek.
“I’m happy when I’m with you,” he insists. “And you made me promise to hold you to the pact. No decisions until after the baby’s born. I know you’re mad at me for reminding you about it, but…”
“I’m not mad. You’re right. I know it, and that’s why I haven’t said anything to him… I won’t… not yet…” Looking at him right now is impossible so I stare at the floor. “Maybe when the baby’s born, and you’re there, my thoughts will change. Maybe my heart will accept what’s right in front of me. That’s all I can promise. A lot of maybes.”
“I’ll take maybe over no any day,” he says, “because while you believe in your dream, I also believe in mine.”
At 4 a.m., the house is silent except for Preston’s occasional snoring. I slip out of the bedroom and walk downstairs to the front porch swing, the only place to find clarity nowadays. The early morning air is crisp, and I pull my blanket tighter around my shoulders, swinging lazily back and forth. All the moments that made me fall in love with Gage come rushing back. All the moments that let me know I still love him.
My thoughts scatter at the squeak of the screen door opening.
“Gage? What are you doing?” He jumps, startled by my being there. As he shuts the door and turns to face me, the duffel bag in his hands becomes visible. “Where are you going?” I try hard to keep my voice from cracking.
“I’m leaving, Rayne. Causing problems between you and Preston isn’t my intention. If I’d known… about y’all, the baby… I’d have never come back.”
“You aren’t causing problems. Please don’t leave again.”
He sighs. “I heard y’all arguing,” he says as my eyes widen in embarrassment. “I couldn’t hear words, only yelling. I’m smart enough to realize my coming here creates problems for you.”
“You’re not a problem,” I insist, shaking my head.
He bites his lower lip. “I have a life of my own to get back to. It’d be easier for everyone if I just leave.”
My lips quiver under the weight of his words. “Don’t go. I’ve missed my best friend.” I walk over and wrap my arms around his waist. He belongs here.
He drops his duffel bag on the porch floor, circles his arms around my shoulders, and hugs me tightly. “I’ll always be your friend, but Preston deserves to be your best friend now. He loves you. Your baby’s one blessed kid.”
He breaks my grasp, picks up his bag, walks down the steps, and jumps into the driver’s seat. The headlights come on and the door slams, a sound I know will serve as an audio reminder of the exact moment my hope died when I lost him all over again.
The taillights of his Scout fade, blending into the faint glow of streetlights on the horizon. I’m alone again and the emptiness returns, deeper than ever.
Inside the house, I cocoon myself in the blanket on the corner of the couch and look out toward the road, praying he’ll reconsider and come back. A couple hours later, Preston stumbles down the stairs, confused.
“Where’s Gage?” he asks, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
The road in front of the house is quiet, deserted. “He’s gone,” I say. “Again.”
Chapter 48
Gage
T
he early morning air is chilly, especially in this damp parking garage. I shrug on my jacket, happy at least to have felt the cold on my skin—the rest of me numb. The senses deadened.
After an hour of leaning across the steering wheel, willing it to hold me up when my muscles refuse to do the job, headlights flash across the expanse of gray concrete as his car pulls into the first space. The one with the placard that reads—HOWARD, CEO.
I suck in a deep breath, as if the air will be infused with strength and calm, and get out of the Scout, falling in line behind him with perfectly-synced footsteps. He’s far enough ahead that he doesn’t notice me there. Close enough that I can catch him before the elevator arrives.
He presses the button then sets his briefcase at his wingtips as he readjusts his tie.
“Dad?”
He jerks around, han
d still clenching his perfect Windsor knot. His eyes widen, pupils black as tar. “Gage? When did you—?”
“Last night. I went to see Rayne.”
He drops his head and nods as he stares at the cement. The elevator doors open with a shrill ding, but he makes no move. They slide back together.
His brow furrows as he swallows multiple times. “How are you?”
“How do you think?”
His eyes rise to meet mine, and there, for the first time in my life, I’m completely in-tune with my dad. My pain reflects back at me as if he’s a human mirror. His own still burns in him. A grim picture of my future.
“Why don’t you and I grab a bite for breakfast?” He glances around the abandoned garage as if at any minute, Charlotte will arrive and find us. “There’s a quiet diner on the opposite side of town. Few people. Good pancakes. It’s where your mother and I used to meet.”
Two short stacks sit in front of us, swimming in butter and syrup, mostly untouched. We discuss everything—Grandpa and Nana, my Army training, and the letter I sent. He asks me where I’m living, but I dodge the question, though I do enter my new cell phone number into his contacts.
I want to hear from him.
But only him.
One subject remains absent from the conversation. How can I say out loud to him what’s really circulating in my brain? Preston’s his son, too, and he shouldn’t be stuck in the middle. Especially since he’s lived the last 20 years in that exact position.
Instead, I quietly swallow the strong desire to drive back, punch Preston square in the nose, and rip his head off his shoulders. The truth restrains me.
I put all this in play. I asked him to comfort her. Be there for her.
Boy, did he ever.
I stare out the window at a line of passing cars, each one kicking up a few of the colorful leaves lying along the roadside. Beautiful reminders of what had once been alive and will soon be nothing more than brown, dried-up dust.
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