by Lindsay Becs
She closes her eyes, and I see a tear fall from the corner and trail down her face, dropping to her shoulder. My eyes are fixated on that single tear as she starts talking, opening up to me for the first time.
“I was sixteen when I fell in love for the first time too,” she says with a smile playing on her lips. “But my story isn’t nearly as beautiful as yours.” She turns her head to look at me. “Please look at me the same way you are now after I tell you,” she pleads quietly before turning her head back and closing her eyes again.
We sit in silence for a while, and I’m starting to think she changed her mind about telling me anything more, but then she tells me her story.
“I was sixteen when I met Joe. He flirted with me at the ice cream shop where I worked during the summer. I knew he was older than me, so I lied and told him I was eighteen so he’d ask me out. After weeks of him coming in daily for a scoop of butter pecan with hot fudge, he finally did. I was so excited, I could hardly wait for the clock to hit nine so I could close up the shop and meet him for our first date.
“He was a true gentleman the entire night, holding doors open for me, asking before taking my hand, and I fell for him harder and harder. We dated the rest of the summer. I found out he was twenty-two and in college, and as much as I was in love with him, I couldn’t tell him the truth about my age. I knew he was leaving at the end of the summer, and I promised myself it would just be a memorable summer with the sweetest man I’d ever met.
“He never pushed me to have sex the entire time we dated, but once reality caught up and we realized we only had a week left together, we made the most of it. He was my first.” she pauses, and I see a blush creep across her skin before she continues. “We said our goodbyes after the most amazing summer together. We both said I love you but knew we couldn’t stay together. He thought I was starting my freshman year at a different college than where he was beginning his senior year.
“I was devastated when he left, but I knew it was for the best. He would stay my favorite secret. But then I found out I was pregnant. My parents were furious with me. They had no idea I had been dating anyone, so to them, I was just sleeping around and had gotten myself in trouble. They wanted me to have the baby and put it up for adoption, but I wanted to keep it, even if I had to raise it by myself, which caused a lot of tension.
“Thanksgiving break came around, and my older sister, Jill, was bringing her new boyfriend home from college with her. She was completely smitten with him. Well, her new boyfriend turned out to be Joe. Neither of us said anything. Then, he came back for Christmas, and then spring break.
“By that point, you can imagine I was showing with a perfect baby bump. Joe took one look at me and knew. We were a secretive family, so my sister hadn’t told him I was pregnant until then, when I was showing and couldn’t hide it anymore.
“Late one night, Joe came into my room and asked me if it was his. He was mad and we started fighting. My sister, who had been my best friend once upon a time, was now in hysterics and hated me when she found out that I was carrying her boyfriend’s baby. My parents were even more furious with me, and instead of asking me, they assumed I was trying to seduce him into my bed that night. They told me once the baby was born, I was on my own and no longer welcome in their home.
“I was losing everything and everyone I loved. I was stressed to the max and freaking out trying to figure what I was going to do once the baby arrived. I was so sick on top of everything else. As much as I wanted the baby, I didn’t. I knew things would be horrible with my family no matter what, but without a baby to care for, I could make things work for myself. I wished the baby away more times than I should admit.
“Then came time to deliver. I went into labor about two weeks before my due date. My parents wouldn’t even stay with me while I was there. I was so alone and scared. And then my greatest fear and worse thought came to life. I delivered a stillborn baby boy. She curls into a ball of sobs as she relives the pain of her past. “I killed my baby,” she cries. “Every negative thought I had became a reality, and he was gone.”
I jump up and pull her into my arms, wanting to absorb all the pain she felt that day and every day since.
“I lost everything because I was an impulsive teenager who wished for the worse to happen to help with her problems. Once I was discharged from the hospital, I went home, but the last years of high school were cold and lonely. My parents couldn’t look at me, and my sister hated me. She married Joe two years later, and I wasn’t invited to their wedding. I didn’t even know she had Jesse until he was almost two years old.
“I graduated from high school and left. I didn’t talk to any of them. They didn’t want me around, and I couldn’t look at them and see the look of disgust in their faces anymore.”
She goes quiet then as her cries slow, still in my arms. It feels good to hold someone again. To have them need the support of your arms and strength to hold them up.
“Please tell me that when I open my eyes, I won’t see the look on your face that I saw on theirs,” she says quietly, pleading with me before her eyes open and lock with mine.
Another single tear falls from the corner of her eye. Before it falls down her face, I kiss it away. Licking my lips, I taste the saltiness from her tear on my lips, and I know then that I want to kiss all her tears away.
“I don’t know what look you think you’ll see but I know that I like you too,” I admit, my lips a whisper away from her soft skin. “Thank you for sharing with me your past that you carry with you. I’m honored that you felt like you could trust me with something like that.” I pause a second before adding, “But you scare me.”
She pulls back to look at me, her eyes wide. I smile, running my knuckles down the side of her face. “That,” I start, meaning what she told me about her past, “isn’t what scares me. I can feel myself wanting you, and that scares the shit out of me. I have a war going on inside of me, and I don’t know what side will win.”
“Wars can be fought for years, and sometimes there isn’t a clear winner after the battle. Instead, the two find a compromise, a way to live together. You don’t have to pick a side. You just have to decide if you’re willing to let the two sides find a way to live in harmony together.”
“It might still take me years,” I tell her honestly.
“It’s OK. I’ll fight an honorable fight for your heart.”
Leaning my head against hers, I let that sink in. “Good.”
With the open promise of more between us, with all our cards out, we call it a night. I walk her to her door and say goodnight to the woman who makes me question everything.
Opening my box, I search for the letter I need, What Am I Doing?
Ice cream. That’s what you need right now. There’s nothing that can fix the world’s problems better than ice cream. The more chocolate and stuff in it, the better, too.
You don’t need me to say anything more to attempt to fix whatever is bothering you. You already know what you want. You always do. Don’t second-guess yourself. Eat some ice cream and go after whatever it is you want.
Always,
Josie
TILLY
Minutes After Telling My Truth
He didn’t look at me like they did.
He didn’t look at me like he had before.
He looked at me as if something had been lifted between us.
He said he liked me too.
I got tingles in the pit of my stomach.
I haven’t felt that since I was sixteen.
Could I get another chance at love?
Could he possibly want me after everything I told him?
I want to fight for his heart.
I just need him to want to share it with me.
Chapter 12
Travis
Eleven Years After Josie
“I can’t believe it broke on me today. Of all days!” Tilly yells, frustrated at her commercial oven at Sugar Stacked. It’s two days before Christmas,
one of her busiest days of the year. She has orders to fill before she closes for the holiday, and her main oven broke. She called me to see if I could fix it before she paid premium prices to have a repairman come out.
“Cookie, stop freaking out. While I work on this, take what you need and go use my oven at the house, and yours, and do what you can in the meantime. I’ll call you when it’s fixed. I think I can get it up and working in a few hours.” That’s a complete lie. I actually have no idea if I can fix this mother of all ovens, but I’m going to try. I hate seeing her stress like this.
She lets out a puff of air before turning to gather the ingredients she needs to go home and do what she does best. Bake.
“You sure?” she questions before leaving with a tub full of what she needs for the time being. I toss her a wink and smile, seeing her relax a bit and pushing through the door.
Digging in a little deeper, I think I know what the problem is. I head to the hardware store to get the necessary parts and get back to work as fast as I can. A few hours later, I do, in fact, have the oven up and working again. I hold back from beating my chest like a caveman, proud of my accomplishment.
I try calling Tilly, but she doesn’t answer. I clean up my mess and head to the house. I walk in on her, hips swaying to music blaring from both of our houses, as she runs back and forth. Leaning against the wall, I watch her with an amused smile, so comfortable in her element, her happy place, total contentment.
For a split second, my mind goes back to years ago, walking in on Josie dancing in her kitchen. The day that changed everything between us. Closing my eyes in an effort to push my memories aside, I open them realizing it’s the first time I choose to live in the now instead of the past.
Licking my lips, I walk up behind Tilly, my hands resting on her swaying hips. She freezes from my touch, but I lean in and whisper in her ear, “Don’t let me stop your rhythm, Cookie. Is that your special ingredient?”
She doesn’t say anything but begins to sway side to side again with the music that’s playing. It doesn’t take long for us to begin dancing together, lost in the music and each other in this one moment. When she moves, I move. Her hands knead the dough in front of her, and my hands join hers. It’s right out of that movie that Josie made me watch, except instead of pottery, we’re making bread.
“Ooohh… myyy love…” I start to sing, terribly, in her ear and she busts out laughing, turning around to face me. She stares at me, smiling, and I don’t know what to do next. I don’t know what I want to do next.
“Your oven is fixed,” I tell her.
“Thanks,” she says, her breath fanning across my skin.
“Tilly?”
“Yes, Travis?”
I take in a ragged breath and then chicken out because I’m a fucking pussy.
“You have flour…” I start reaching up to swipe the flour from her cheek.
Her eyes are searching mine, and I wish so bad I could give in to what my body is telling me it wants, but I can’t get my head and heart on the same page.
Stepping back, I give her room to finish what she was doing and clean up. I watch her for a few minutes, but when I see a tear fall from her eye, which she quickly swipes away, I hate that I caused it.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, turning to leave her alone and put space between us. I’m almost at the top of the stairs when I hear her defeated, “Me too,” and those two words crush me, making me feel worse than I already do.
Ollie and Tatum have tried to get me to go out and start dating for a while now. They typically leave it alone after I say no so many times. At Thanksgiving, Benton asked if I had gone out with Tilly. His words from that night keep swirling in my head.
“I admire you. I promised my girl that we’d always have that spark, the fun, the fire between us. If she ever left me, in any way, I’d be broken. But you also deserve to be happy, yeah? It’s alright to move forward. No one would look down on you for that.”
No one will look down on me except my wife.
I pull down my box and sit back, holding it in my arms a minute before opening it. Her smell, the scent of lavender and honey, isn’t there like it used to be. If I close my eyes and concentrate really hard, I can still smell it and feel her arms around me.
Opening my eyes, I pull out the letter. I don’t know if I really want to read it, but I know I need to. Especially now. “Moving On” is written on the unopened envelope.
There are so few that are unopened at this point. And the ones I haven’t read yet, the ones that sit inside this box unopened, are the ones I fear the most. They’re the letters about my biggest fear… moving on without Josie. The ones that put an end to always.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, with shaky hands I read the first of the last letters my wife wrote to me.
Hey, baby,
I bet this one is a hard pill to swallow. The question is: are you reading this because you’re ready to move on or afraid to move on? Whichever it is for you, they both make my stomach sink a little, if I’m being honest. Maybe I shouldn’t tell you that… But we’ve never been anything but honest and I’m not going to stop being truthful now, not when it matters the most.
I don’t know if you’re reading this a day after I’m gone, or a month, or a year, or twenty years after, but know that I feel the end is close as I write this. And it sucks.
I already miss you so much. I wish like hell we had more time together, but that wasn’t in the cards for us. But. You are young and WILL move on. You hear me?
I want you to move on and find someone who will care for you and love you like I do. Although, I’m not 100% sure anyone can love you as much as I do, try to find a close second.
I’m sure that the first date, kiss, person you feel drawn to will be hard to accept. Promise me you’ll give them your all. Don’t hold back because of me or your feelings, but do it openly and honestly because feeling loved by you is such an honor and an amazing feeling. Make sure they’re worthy of it and then shower them with everything you have to offer.
Always,
Josie
I scrub my hands over my face and sit there for a minute, thinking about what I just read. Tucking the letter back inside the box, I place it back in the top of my closet next to Penny’s.
When I go back downstairs, Tilly is gone, but a note sits on the counter.
“Thank you for helping me today. When the buzzer times, take the bread out and enjoy. It’s our bread. It didn’t seem right to give it to anyone else.”
Well, shit.
I know she’s busy and needs to finish work, so I decide to stay put at home. The buzzer sounds, and I pull the bread out to cool. Penny comes back with Jesse from their day of Christmas shopping, and I throw some cash at her and tell them to order a couple of pizzas as I head out the door.
I drive to Pretty Girl and work on a car that came in the day before. I get lost in my work for hours, letting my mind go. I look up to see it’s almost midnight, and I need to head home, so I clean up and lock the shop behind me.
Driving home, I make the trip past Sugar Stacked and see the lights are on and Tilly’s car still there. Impulsively, I pull in and park, walking to the back door. I pull on it, but it’s locked. Smart girl. I knock and wait. Nothing. I call, but she doesn’t answer, so I text her and knock again. Then, I hear the lock turn and the door cautiously open.
“Hey,” she says, sounding nervous.
My lips curve up in a smile. “You gonna let me in, Cookie?”
“I don’t know if I want to,” she replies, leaning her hip on the doorframe, not opening the door any farther.
My smile grows as I drop my head to look at the ground. And now I realize that Tilly Lane has me by the balls and I didn’t even know it.
“Fair enough.” I look up and meet her eyes then. “I guess I earned that.”
“Yup,” she says, popping the P.
“I was just recruited into the war. Guess this is my first battle,” I tell her, t
urning to leave, but I stop and turn back to look at her. “I don’t always fight fair. You should know that. It’ll still be a long war, but I’m ready to fight my way to the front lines.”
It’s been six months since I declared war with Tilly, promising to fight through my internal battle to get to her. In these past months, I’ve learned that I’m a chicken shit.
I haven’t done one thing to make her think that anything I said that night was true. I went home that night and ate the entire loaf of bread she left at my house and started to overthink everything.
Things went right back to how they’d always been. Neighborly. Friendly. Nothing more, nothing less.
I’m sitting out back, a little drunk, and it’s after one in the morning. I couldn’t fall asleep, like most nights. I don’t turn to alcohol often as a way to erase the pain of loss or help me sleep, but tonight my mind kept turning to Tilly.
More than that, my hand was reaching down to my cock with her on my mind, and it freaked me the fuck out. Sure, I’ve jerked off some through the years but always, always, with Josie behind my closed eyes. But tonight, I closed my eyes and saw brown eyes instead of blue, dark curls instead of blonde.
So, I grabbed a bottle of liquor and headed outside. I’ve been sitting here for over an hour, drinking straight from the bottle and willing my hard dick to listen to me and go down for the night. It’s not listening.
Putting the bottle to my lips again, I go for another swig but it’s empty. I throw the bottle out in the yard with a frustrated groan. My hands scrub down my face, and then I fist my cock through my gym shorts. Fuuuuuck… it’s been a while.
Gritting my teeth and squeezing my eyes shut, I slide my fist up and down my hard dick, which just won’t listen tonight. Needing more, I slide the band down and free my cock to the night, hissing when the cool air hits the heated head of my dick. Spitting into my palm, I grip myself with a groan when my fist glides down and I give myself a tug.