The fog on the mirror fades as the cool air from the house rushes into the bathroom. It tickles my skin, still sensitive from standing under the shower for what felt like a lifetime but wasn’t quite long enough.
Camilla and I always say that a hot shower can cure just about anything. It can’t cure a broken heart.
Heading into my bedroom, stepping over the sheets I ripped from my bed before putting on new, non-Walker-scented ones, I climb up on the mattress and curl up into a ball.
I didn’t die. My heart got trampled, my trust broken, my ego bruised, but I didn’t die. I thought I might. I also thought I might just pick up the phone today once Peck dropped me off and call Walker and talk to him. I didn’t do that either.
My eyes drift closed and I concentrate on my breathing, listening to the air smoothly enter and leave my body. As I lie in bed, in a semi-awake, semi-sleep sort of twilight state, there’s a sense of peace that covers me.
I’ve taken everything the last few days have thrown at me. I got bumped around and hurt but I didn’t break. I fell in love, but I didn’t lose me. I didn’t give in, I didn’t roll over, I didn’t sacrifice anything about myself to stay in a relationship.
I wasn’t my mother.
Thinking of her sweet face and warm hugs makes my chest hurt. Pulling my legs tighter to my chest, I imagine being at the Farm, surrounded by my family, and although it doesn’t seem like it’ll fix things, it’s a better solution than lying here alone.
Decision made, I find my phone buried in the blankets on the floor and scroll until I find Graham’s name. I hit the green button.
“Hey,” he says immediately. “How are you?”
“I’m coming home,” I tell him, ignoring his question. “Is the job still open?”
“Of course …” A paper crinkles in the background. “You okay?”
“No, but I’m going to survive.”
“That’s good news. Mom will be happy.”
I look around the room and spot a packet of gum Walker left lying next to the television. The stupid little package makes my heart burn in my chest and I know if this can make me feel so sad, what will driving by Crank do? Or Peck? Or if I run into Walker at the gas station?
“Think I can stay at the Farm for a while?” I ask. “I’m going to try to grab a flight in the morning.”
“I’ll have someone go over and make sure it’s ready for you. You coming back for good then?”
“I think so, G.”
He waits a long minute before responding. “You know I want you here. I feel better when we’re all in one place.”
“Yeah.”
“But I want you to take a breather. Don’t make any decisions until you’re more steady on your feet, okay?”
“The way I feel …” My voice cracks before drifting off. I pace a circle, trying to rein in the lump at the bottom of my throat. “The way I feel, it might take a while to be steady on my feet. I can’t wait that long to move on.”
“You know I’m behind you one hundred percent. But can I give you some advice?”
“That’s what I call you for, isn’t it?” I laugh, sniffling.
“Don’t bring him here. Lincoln got Ford all wound up and you know how that ends.”
“Oh great.”
Graham laughs. “Okay. I’ll have my secretary secure you a plane ticket for morning. The Farm will be waiting.”
“Thanks, G. Love you.”
“Love you too. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
Thirty-Three
Walker
The last time a woman left me, I almost drank myself to death. It wasn’t because she left. Her actual leaving was symbolic; she was out the door months before that. It was because I wanted to forget everything that had happened. I didn’t want to remember our farce of a wedding, deal with the house she wanted to buy that I hated from the start, see her things lying around that only reminded me of a woman who betrayed me over and over again. Being drunk delivered the sweet peace I couldn’t find elsewhere.
This time? I want to remember it all.
The tractor seat beneath me bites into my ass. The engine is now cold, the sun just starting to fall behind the trees. I should get up and go inside, get a shower, probably a sandwich, but I can’t make myself move. If I get up, there’s a better-than-average chance I’ll find myself in my truck headed to Sienna’s, and that’ll just make things worse.
She needs time. That’s what Blaire told me, it’s what Lance suggested, it’s what my gut says. Give her time. But I don’t want to give her time. I want to hold her in my arms and kiss her until she remembers what we are together.
Everything.
We’re everything together.
My palm slams off the steering wheel, the crunch of the bone against the hard plastic twisting under my skin. It registers, but I don’t really feel the pain. It pales in comparison to the ache everywhere else.
They say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. That’s not true. I knew what I had long before she left. What I didn’t know for absolute certain until Tabby came back and I looked in to her eyes and felt absolutely nothing was that I absolutely, without the shadow of a doubt, love Sienna Landry.
A pair of headlights sweeps through the field before Peck’s pickup truck comes into view. He shuts it off a few yards away, climbing out and heading my way.
He tosses me a little wave, testing the waters, and I can’t deny I’m happy to see him.
“How are ya?” he asks when he gets close enough for me to hear.
I shrug.
“Decided to mow the back forty, huh? Been a long time since this has been cut.”
“Seemed like a good, productive way to not get a restraining order,” I laugh.
He chuckles, leaning against a tire. “Well, what do we do now?”
“About what?”
“Losing our girl.”
“Our girl?” I ask, eyes wide. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I mean, she’s your girl,” he scoffs. “But I like her too. She’s fun. She makes you a decent guy. She just … fit in, all right?”
Scratching my head, I sink into the seat. “I can’t just go get her. I want to. I want to throw her over my shoulder and handcuff her to the bed and make her listen to me until she loves me back.”
Something flickers in Peck’s eye, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he nods his head.
“You know, her brother offered her a job in Savannah and she never said she would or wouldn’t take it,” I note.
“Maybe she won’t.”
I look at him. “Maybe she needs to.”
“What are you saying, Walk?”
“I didn’t realize how unhappy I was until she came around. I’d forgotten what it feels like to want to get out of bed, to not loathe the idea of going to work.”
“You mean you don’t skip out the door every day to see me? Fucker,” he teases.
“Sorry,” I laugh. “I’d fallen into this slump and nothing sort of mattered anymore. I didn’t think there was anything out there for me. Now I know that’s not true.”
“So you’re going to let her walk away?”
Gazing into the sunset, the final rays of light shining through the trees, the emptiness of not having Sienna settles into my soul. It claws at me, pierces me, makes me uncomfortable in the worst way. “I have to,” I whisper.
“I don’t understand.”
“I could go get her like I want to and tell her all the things I know are true. That I love her. That she loves me. That we belong together. But she needs to realize that on her own.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
“A girl like that …” I can’t fight the laugh that comes falling past my lips. “You can’t tame a girl like Sienna. She still has things she wants to do, things she wants to figure out. And I’d be a cocksucker if I tried to convince her she doesn’t.”
“Okay,” he says, holding a hand in front of him, “I
get what you’re saying. But it’s risky as hell.”
“Everything’s a risk, isn’t it? I’ve already fallen in love with her. That’s where you really take the chance and I’m all in. It’s too late for that.” I climb off the tractor and look at my cousin. “How late is Terry’s Lumber open?”
“Till nine? I think?”
“Wanna give me a lift over there?”
“Yeah, but I control the radio …”
Thirty-Four
Sienna
“Come on,” I groan, the wheels of my suitcase getting stuck. I jerk it forward and it springs loose, catapulting me into the back of my car.
Blowing out a breath, I stand with what little energy I have left and get it situated in the trunk and close the lid.
The little house Delaney and I called home for the last year looms overhead as I walk back up to the door. Its little black shutters were my favorite part from the moment I rolled up here months ago. Although it’s small and odd-shaped and the grass never grows evenly, my heart twists as I check the door for a final time.
As I head back down the sidewalk, Peck’s truck slides in behind my car. “Hey,” he says, getting out. He pulls his brows together. “Going somewhere?”
“To Savannah,” I say, trying desperately to keep my voice free of emotion. “I have a flight in a couple of hours.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Am I supposed to tell you everything?” I laugh, letting him pull me into a hug.
“Not everything, but this is kind of a big deal.”
“I just …” Shrugging, I blow out a breath. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“You staying there for good?”
I shrug again. “I need to go though. I can’t miss my flight.”
He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Instead, he pulls me into a hug again.
“You’re the best, you know that?” I say against his t-shirt.
This time, there are no witty comebacks and no cute one-liners. He just squeezes me tighter.
Fighting tears, I pull away and refuse to look at him.
“Here,” he says, his voice full of emotion. “Take this.”
“What is it?”
He hands me a white envelope with my name scrawled on the front. My thumb goes immediately to Walker’s writing as if touching his pen strokes allows me to touch him.
“I don’t know what it is, really. But it’s from Walker,” he says. “Are you going to tell him you’re leaving?”
“Is Tabby still around?”
“Hell, no,” he sneers. “Even if she was, it wouldn’t matter. You get what I’m sayin’?”
Blowing out a shaky breath, I circle around to the driver’s side door. “Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t let Walker give you too much hell.”
“If you need anything, call me,” he says, as I get into my seat.
Tears welling in my eyes as Peck reaches me, he closes the door softly. Leaning down so we’re eye-to-eye, he smiles sadly. “I hate seeing you go.”
“I hate to go,” I choke out. “But I have to.”
He nods, patting his hand against the roof of the car. “Then you better get going. Be safe.”
I watch him in the rearview mirror get into this truck, throw it in reverse, and zoom off down the road.
The tears start and they don’t stop even after I hit the highway towards Chicago. By the time I hit the Linton exit, my shirt is soaked and I can barely see.
On auto-pilot, I take the little offshoot into the little sleepy town. Instead of going right towards Crank like I do every morning, I turn left.
The streets are lined with American flags that billow in the warm summer breeze. Cherry smiles, broom in hand, as she sweeps the front of Carlson’s Bakery. I wave back, wishing I could stop and get one last piece of coffee cake.
Passing Nana’s church, I stop at the little stop sign at the end of the street. Ruby, the librarian, is checking the mail at the road. She, too, waves and points to a little sign about the upcoming speaker she’s been telling me about. I give her a thumbs up, making her smile as the tears just keep flowing.
Passing Goodman’s gas station, I see a bunch of the old men who hang out in Crank sometimes and I honk. They recognize my car and lift their coffee cups high above their bib overalls, the little hello they have worked out for their friends.
Me. Their friend.
Funny how this little town that I once thought of as a pit stop in the adventure of my life has my heart all twisted into a knot. I take a quick left and head back towards the highway, a road I don’t usually take. There’s a sign painted a bright shade of blue with a white arrow that reads, “Bluebird.”
Pressing on the gas, I force myself forward on the on-ramp and head to the airport.
Thirty-Five
Sienna
“Last call for Flight 3086 to Atlanta, Georgia.”
With a long, frazzled breath, I watch the steady stream of people board the jet. I should’ve been one of the first between my first-class ticket and the fact that I’ve sat here for an hour. Yet, here I am, still stuck in my seat staring at a coffee pop-up in the middle of the airport.
Like a zombie, I reach for my bag and drag it to my lap. I poke around, searching for my boarding pass when I stumble upon the envelope Peck gave me earlier. It’s leaned up against my wallet, cuddled in amongst my things, like it has all the time in the world to sit there until I decide to open it.
The line still has a handful of people in it, so I go ahead and retrieve the envelope. It’s heavier than I remember and uneven as I hold it like a bomb waiting to go off.
I don’t want to open it. Something tells me to not be antsy and leave it be. I get up and start to gather my things before sitting down and tearing the top open before I can talk myself out of it again.
A key falls to the floor, dinging as it hits the metal leg of the chair. I pick it up and unfold a piece of carefully creased paper, the words hard to read from the tears in my eyes at the first word.
Slugger,
I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but there’s only one I’d go back and fix if I could. That’s hurting you. I’m so damn sorry. Once I realized I was in love with you, I panicked and tried to find Tabby to get everything taken care of. I should’ve just told you, but I didn’t. And now we’re both paying for that.
I am in love with you, Sienna. I don’t expect that to absolve me from any guilt for my mistakes, but I want you to know that. I’ve never been in love before now. I know that because I’ve never felt this way about anyone else and I know I could never stop feeling this way or feel it for another person.
The key is to the front door of my house. I waited four years to get a divorce. I’ll wait an entire lifetime for you to come back. Go explore the world. Work for your brother. Whatever it is you want to do. Just know that when you realize you can’t live without me, you know where I’ll be.
Love,
Walker
The paper shakes, my hands trembling, as I make it to the last words. I want to be mad at him, I want to be so jealous that I hate him for having a wife. But both of those things leave me sitting here. Without him.
Looking around the airport, at the man sitting across from me reading a paper with his wife’s head on his shoulder, at the young couple sitting against the wall, laughing at something on her phone, my lips begin to tremble.
The flight attendant at the gate looks at me and I nod, gesturing for her to give me a minute. Wrapping bag straps in my hands, I still don’t get up because reality hits me like a ton of bricks.
If I get on that plane, I’m everything I say I’m not.
Leaving is the weak option. Fleeing is the childish answer. Not fighting for what I want is a betrayal to myself.
If I go, I’m sacrificing everything.
Laughing out loud, I realize everything my mother has ever said and done is true. She didn’t give up a life to stay with my father. Her life was with my father. Just li
ke staying here won’t be giving up my life. It might actually be where it was all along.
Slinging my purse over my shoulder, I turn to head back to security when the seat next to me is taken.
I sense him before I see him. His cologne finds me before he does. That little flame in my belly that makes me excited and simultaneously calm flickers and I whip my eyes to meet his deep, dark gaze.
“Walker,” I breathe, my bags falling out of my trembling hand to the floor. “What are you doing here?”
“Well,” he says, sliding his hands down his jeans, “I came to catch a flight to Atlanta that I see I’m about to miss.” He cringes, nodding up towards the flight attendant who’s watching me with annoyance.
“You got a flight? Why?”
My heartbeat pounds. I can feel it in my temple, my entire body heating as I hold my breath and wait, hope, for his answer.
“I thought I could let you go,” he says, his voice full of uncertainty. “I thought I could just wait around and you’d come back.” He leans forward, taking my chin in his calloused hand and angling my face so he can see all the way into my soul. “But I can’t.”
“Why?” I say, my voice cracking with emotion. I lean my cheek into his arm, trying to stay rooted in the seat and not jump into his arms.
“Because I love you.”
It’s the simplest thing he could say, but the most powerful too. His handsome face gets cloudy as I bat back tears.
“I may have let Tabby go for years, knowing she’d come back to nothing but a divorce, if she ever did. But I could do that because it didn’t matter. Thinking about you leaving for even a day kills me, Slugger.”
“Oh, Walker …” I throw my arms around him, burying my face in his neck. He pulls me in tight, his body so hard, yet so welcoming, against me. It’s where I belong.
“Madam, I’m sorry, but are you going to get on this flight or not?” The flight attendant’s voice sounds behind me, crisp and clear.
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