by Kelsie Rae
I swallow thickly, set my phone facedown on the counter, and wash my hands.
My dad is one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met. He’ll collect on his promise to finish our conversation from earlier no matter what. The sooner I get it over with, the sooner I can go home and collapse into bed.
And that’s all I want now.
I shove my phone into my back pocket, take a deep breath, and decide to face the inevitable with a twist of the bathroom door handle.
“Hey, Sweet Pea.”
Cornered, I scowl back at my dad who’s leaning against the wall with a triumphant smirk on his face.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Are you ready for that chat?”
“I don’t need a chat,” I tell him. “I need to stop thinking about him.”
“And how well did that work the first time?”
“To be fair, you’re the one that suggested it in the first place,” I point out, my annoyance rearing its ugly head.
“Come here, Say.” He offers me a large mug of hot chocolate, then guides me to the front door where our coats are waiting. Once bundled up, our favorite rocking chairs call to us on the front porch. The steam swirls from my cup as the cold air kisses my cheeks, and I breathe deep.
“Smells like a storm’s coming,” he notes, the chair creaking as he settles into it.
I follow his lead before taking a sip from the mug I painted at Sway’s birthday party when we were kids. It’s black and blue with messy stars speckling the outside and has a small chip on the top, but my dad and I agree that it holds too many memories to part with it.
“I love a winter storm,” I tell him as I take in the small rolling hills that surround us from all sides of our own personal baby valley. My mom and dad bought the land forever ago, and the majority of my favorite memories were built here. Dad’s right. I’ve been avoiding it. But it isn’t because I don’t love them.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately,” I apologize.
“You’re busy. I get it.”
I scoff. “Says the guy who gave me a solid scolding as soon as I walked in the door.”
“I just want you to be able to talk to me,” he pleads. “You’re my baby girl.”
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” I admit, peeking at him from over the rim of my mug.
“And I’m afraid that’s on me. You're my firstborn, Say. And unfortunately, that means you’re kind of the guinea pig for your mother and me. We had to make a lot of mistakes with you––”
“You didn’t make a lot of mistakes with me, Dad.”
“Yes, I did, but you’re nice enough not to point them out.” He smiles, then takes a sip of his hot beverage before sobering slightly. “Parenting is hard, Say. It’s not a walk in the park. I’m afraid that one of my biggest regrets is how I handled seeing you fall in love at such a young age.”
I frown and touch his arm. “You were right, though, Dad. We were young and stupid. It would’ve never lasted––”
“That’s the thing though, Say. It has lasted,” he argues. “You haven’t even been in the same state for the majority of your break up, but the distance didn’t matter. I see how heavily it weighs on you, even after all this time. Even when your sisters convinced you to date again, even when he wound up becoming a father to a child that didn’t belong to you. You still care about him. You still love him.”
“Dad…,” I choke out, my voice cracking.
“It’s okay that you love him, Say. That’s where I went wrong, and that’s what I wanted to tell you today. I didn’t know how to support your relationship the first time around, and that’s on me. I was terrified you’d wind up married before you were even a legal adult and that you’d end up regretting it, which was the one thing I was trying to teach you while growing up.”
“Live life without regret,” I murmur.
“Exactly. Yet the biggest regret you’ve ever had is back in town, and you don’t know how to handle it. When he left, I told you good riddance. I told you to stay strong and move on. I told you that you’d find someone else to make you happy. To marry. To have babies with. To build a life with. And you know I don’t believe in soulmates,” he reminds me, “but if I did, I’d say he’s yours. I’m afraid that you don’t feel like you have my blessing because of the things I told you, and that’s why you’ve been avoiding us.”
“Dad-–”
He sets his hand on my knee and squeezes softly. “Let me finish, Sweet Pea. The only thing I want for you is to be happy. That’s it. That’s all I want. My daughters to be happy. Pretty simple, right?”
I smile back at him.
“Whether it’s alone in your work or by jumping out of airplanes with parachutes strapped to your back, I just want you to be happy and to enjoy life. Because it’s meant to be lived to the fullest. Don’t let your fear hold you back from that, Say. I’m afraid I stoked that fear and stubbornness when you came to me all those years ago after he broke your heart. That’s on me, and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”
“Don’t say that, Dad,” I beg him, hating the way his eyes shine as he stares out at the snow-covered horizon.
“Did he make you happy?” he asks.
I swallow thickly and give him a jerky nod.
“Does he still make you happy when you aren’t terrified of losing him again?”
Again, I nod.
“Then give him a chance, Sweet Pea. And if you two don’t work out, that’s okay. But at least you’ll know for sure instead of being torn apart by your past and the potential for what you could’ve been.”
Dropping my head to his shoulder, I feel his warm lips press to my forehead as the expanse glows with white, fluttering snowflakes. He was right. There’s a storm coming.
“I love you, Dad.”
“Love you too, Say. I’m so sorry––”
“Stop apologizing,” I scold him before lifting my head to give him a teasing smile. “You’re the best dad a girl could ever ask for, and I’m not just saying that. As for He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, I’ll think about it.”
He quirks his brow, pulling a laugh from me before I add, “I promise.”
“And you’ll let yourself be happy?”
I blink back my tears. “I’ll try.”
“And you’ll start showing up more around here?” he prods, that same demanding expression painted across his weathered face.
“That, I can guarantee.”
He grins. “That’s my girl.”
16
Saylor
My entire body feels like a live wire as the windshield wipers whoosh back and forth. The snow is falling harder now, matching my anxiety as I pull into a parking spot in front of my apartment building, then I rush inside.
Keys jingling, I slide them into the lock and let myself in before tossing them onto the counter along with my coat and purse.
Breathe, Say, I remind myself.
My phone feels like a ticking time bomb in the back pocket of my jeans, but I dig it out and stare at Owen’s message again.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Happy Thanksgiving, Say. Thinking of you.
Chewing on my lower lip, I try not to let myself overthink anything and type back a quick response.
Me: Thanks. Did Grady have fun?
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: He had a blast and is now passed out on the couch from too much turkey and pecan pie.
Me: Pecans?
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Nora brought it with her. And no, Grady isn’t allergic like I am, but he thoroughly enjoyed eating it in front of me to make me jealous.
When I realize I’m grinning, I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath.
How can something that feels so easy feel so freaking hard at the same time?
Me: That’s just mean.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: It really was. I can still remember the first time I tried it at your house.
Me: Me too. You practically inhaled the whole pie before realizing yo
ur throat was scratchy. I still can’t believe you didn’t know you were allergic until you were 17.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: To be fair, I always thought pecan pie looked gross, so I stuck with apple until your mom made it for Sunday dinner. I didn’t want to be rude and tell her no, so….
Me: So, it’s a good thing my mom had her EpiPen.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Very good thing.
Me: So, how’s Nora doing?
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Good. Brought her boyfriend with her for the holidays.
Me: And?
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: He seems like a good guy. Nora’s really happy.
Me: Aw, that makes me happy.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Me too. Everyone was afraid she’d never date after I kind of screwed her up in the head.
Me: How’d you screw her up?
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: I broke your heart, and she couldn’t understand why. She figured that if we couldn’t make it, why should she even bother trying to find something for herself? Trust me, I know how messed up it sounds, but even she’ll tell you that after everything went down, she stopped believing in happily ever afters.
My heart cracks as I’m reminded of how much our breakup affected everyone around us. How snippy I was with my parents, biting off their heads for no reason at all. How lost my sisters were without an older brother to look after them. How I had to cut ties with Nora, my third baby sister, who apparently lost all hope of finding a good guy after the one she looked up to broke my heart. Sniffling, I type my response.
Me: That’s a lot of pressure on you.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: It is what it is. But then her boyfriend came around and it just kind of…happened. I’m happy for her. She deserves to be happy.
Me: You do too.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: It’s funny. Sometimes I think that’s true, but other times, I feel like I deserve to be where I am. It was my decision to screw up my life the way I did. Sure, I was young and impressionable, but in the end, I was too stupid to really understand, and I threw it away.
Me: Do you ever feel like there’s a lot of pressure when it comes to us? That if we tried again, everyone would be watching, waiting to see if we make it? Or if we screw it up again?
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Maybe a little. But I stopped caring what other people think about my relationships the moment it cost me the only one that mattered.
My eyebrows tug at the center as I reread his message.
Me: What do you mean?
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Nothing. Just that I don’t want to live for other people’s approval or disappointment. I want to do what feels right to me and you. That’s it.
Me: And what about Grady?
I can see the little blinking dots on the left side of my screen, but they disappear a few seconds later. Forcing myself to release the oxygen from my lungs, I change into some pajamas, then splash some water on my face before checking my phone again. It buzzes.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: I’m trying not to get my hopes up here, but this conversation is a little too important for me to have over text. I don’t want either of us to misinterpret each other’s feelings. Can I see you? Outside of school? And before Monday, if possible? The sooner, the better if we want to keep my sanity intact, though I know how much you like to make me lose my mind.
I laugh.
Me: Which Star Wars movie are you on?
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: With Turner and Grady?
Me: Yeah. Maybe I can tag along…if the invitation is still there.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Hell, yeah, it’s still there. Grady asks about you every time we plan it. Turner is coming over tomorrow because Mandy’s working for Black Friday. We were going to have a double feature. Do you want to come?
Me: I’d love that. What time?
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: 2 pm?
Me: Okay. Can I bring anything?
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Nah. Just yourself. We’ve been collecting plenty of junk food ever since the tradition started.
Me: Okay. I’ll see you then.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Okay. Goodnight, Say.
Me: Night, Owen.
I set my phone on the nightstand before it buzzes with another notification.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Hey, Say?
Me: Yeah?
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Thanks for texting me tonight.
Me: You started it. ;) Thanks for being patient with me. Can we just…take it slow?
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Whatever you want, Say. I promise.
Me: Okay. Night.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Goodnight, sweetheart.
17
Owen
“She’s here!” Grady yells from the front room, his head bobbing between the curtains. He’s been watching for almost thirty minutes. With Turner beside him, you’d think they were waiting for a celebrity to join us instead of their teacher.
Chuckling, I grab the kitchen towel before swatting them away from the front hallway.
“Give me some space. I gotta open the front door.”
The hinges squeak softly as I pull it open. A black hood covers Saylor’s wavy brown hair while the snow continues to fall freely from the sky.
“Hey, sorry I’m a little late,” she apologizes. “The traffic was crazy. You’d think people would know how to drive in the snow, but there’s always one that goes five miles per hour and ruins the road for the rest of us, ya know?”
I bite my cheek to keep from grinning at her. She’s adorable when she’s flustered.
“No worries. Come on in.”
“Hi!” Grady waves his hand back and forth from a few feet behind me. “We’ll get snacks.” Then he and Turner dart off toward the kitchen, leaving Saylor and me alone with a giant-ass elephant in the room.
“Can I, uh, take your coat?” I offer.
“Oh. Yeah. Thank you.” She slides it off her shoulders, then hands it to me.
After hanging it up in the coat closet, I turn back to her. “Don’t mention it.”
She nods and lets out a deep breath. I nod in return as an awkward silence settles over us.
“So….” Her voice trails off as she rocks back on her heels.
“So…,” I repeat.
Pursing her lips, she tucks her hands into the back pockets of her jeans while I cross my arms over my chest and watch her squirm.
“This is awkward,” she blurts out.
I laugh. “Sorry. I just…the ball’s in your court.”
“And if it weren’t?”
“Then I would’ve gotten a sitter and would be kissing the shit out of you as soon as you walked in the door.”
Her button nose scrunches as a blush spreads across her cheeks. “You did not just say that.”
“You know I’m not one to mince words,” I counter. “But since the ball is in your court, and I’m not 100% sure what you’re looking for by coming over today….”
“I’m looking for….” Her shoulders almost touch her ears as she shrugs. “Normal. Easy.”
I step closer, the toes of her snow-covered brown boots brushing against my bare feet and sending a shock of awareness pulsing through me as the icy water melts on my skin. She gulps but stands her ground and peeks up at me with those same mesmerizing eyes that have haunted me for years.
“Normal, huh?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Like the normal we could’ve had?”
She licks her lips. “Maybe.”
“And the easy that brought us together in the first place?”
Her breath hitches. “Possibly.”
“Hey, guys! We’re ready! We even peed!” Grady yells from the family room.
Saylor flinches in surprise before her soft laugh fans across my chest. Dropping her gaze to the ground, she tucks her hair behind her ear. “Speaking of which, I should uh, probably go to the bathroom.”
“I’ll meet you in the family room.”
�
��Okay,” she answers, but she doesn’t move a muscle. She’s like a scared little deer, debating whether or not she should flee in the opposite direction, and I can’t let her do that.
“Hey, Say?” I murmur.
Again, she finds the courage to look up at me. “Yeah?”
My calloused fingertips scrape the sensitive flesh along her jaw as I cup her cheek and lean a little closer. “I miss our normal. Our easy.”
“Me too,” she admits.
“I’m sorry I made everything so complicated.”
Her smile is pained as she whispers, “We both did. I’m sorry too.”
“I know how much complications can stress you out.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yup.”
“Like before a big test,” I offer.