I stare at the floor trying to imagine how difficult that must’ve been for Aden, to know that his soldiers trusted him, had faith that he would lead them into battle with only the best men at their back, only to realize he—
“They were ambushed. Enemy knew their every step and attacked before they could even make a move. When they came, they came after Aden. His men, the same ones who warned him about the mole, threw themselves in front of enemy fire to save their commander. Aden lost all but two of his US soldiers and they died so he could live.”
“Oh my God.” His men knew better and died to protect him anyway. “I can’t imagine the guilt . . .” Even hearing it as a third party is suffocating me in shame.
“Aden came home and he wasn’t the same. He was dead on the inside. He couldn’t get a job, felt useless. The guilt ate him up so bad he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but drink. He lashed out at his parents, his sister, they begged him to get treatment and he tried, but those demons run so deep. I knew if I didn’t get Aden away from his family he’d destroy their love for him and he’d have nothing left.”
“So you invited him here?”
He turns to me and tilts his head. “The only thing that keeps a wild animal from destroying everything around him is to keep him busy, give him a job. I left Aden in charge of my boat, figured if he was fishing he couldn’t piss anyone off. He tried to live in my cottage here, but after he beat those boys who broke into this place he knew he needed more distance from people.”
“He’s isolating himself.”
He makes a noise of agreement. “It’s the only thing that keeps him sane. The only thing that keeps him from hurting people.”
I knot my fingers in my lap. “He told me tonight he tried to kill himself.”
“Yeah, guess the booze wasn’t working so he tried, hate to say it but my guess is that wasn’t the first time.”
I lean forward and with my head in my hands I try to stop the whirling as my thoughts spin out of control.
“I didn’t know how deep he was in with you, but after tonight . . .” He stares at the ground. “It’s imperative he not find out who you are, Sawyer.”
“I know.”
“I don’t think it was your intention to deceive him, but if he finds out you’ve been lying to him this whole time, pretending to be someone you’re not, this might break him completely.”
Silent tears fall from my eyes. I don’t wipe them away because I want to feel the sorrow of lying to a man who doesn’t deserve so much dishonesty and betrayal.
“Wish it could’ve been different, boy do I. Never seen Aden fall for a woman like he’s fallen for you. Shame to see something that could’ve been great never happen.”
I drag in a fortifying breath and face Cal knowing what I’m about to say is going to kill, but needing the break to be clean. “I think it would be best if we moved Aden to your place. The movers will be here early and I’ll be leaving for the airport at sunup.”
He narrows his eyes. “You’re not going to tell him goodbye?”
“If I do, I’ll never be able to leave.”
Understanding washes over his features and he pushes to stand. “Right. I’ll grab him.”
I don’t follow Cal back into the bedroom, but instead open the front door and wait when Cal staggers out of the room with a half-sleeping Aden leaning against him.
I look down at my feet as Cal passes me, through the door, and carefully down the stairs. Walking quickly I get in front of him so I’m able to open the front door of Cal’s cottage as he lumbers, breathing heavily, to the couch to drop his nephew there.
With a grunt and a moan Aden flops to his back and the gentle sounds of his snoring fill the space. I resist the urge to go to him, to press my lips to his one last time even if he doesn’t remember it because it’ll take herculean strength to hold me back from falling into him and hanging on for dear life.
“Do me a favor?” Cal’s standing in the doorway, his expression grim. “Give Celia a hug for me. Tell her my life is better having known her.”
“I will.”
I back out of the cottage and turn toward Celia’s.
“Sawyer.”
I stop and turn. “Yeah.”
“Give me a call when she . . . when Celia . . .” His lips curl between his teeth.
I nod and head back to get ready to leave. As soon as the movers show up I want to be in the first cab to the airport to be with my sister.
I only hope Aden can forgive me.
TWENTY-FIVE
ADEN
I’m shaking.
But I’m not in a dream, I’m actually shaking.
My eyelids feel like they’re made of concrete and peeling them open takes serious effort. My head is foggy and when I’m finally able to focus I see my uncle staring down at me.
“Wake up.” He slaps my face a couple times, making me groan.
The throbbing in my head won’t let up and my body is heavy as I push myself up from . . . wait. “Why am I on your couch?” I squint against the sun that pours in through the window. “What time is it?”
“Almost noon.” He grabs a mug off the table and hands it to me. “Coffee. Should help knock away the last of the pills.”
I take the mug and the memories of last night come flooding back. I pinch my eyes closed and shake my head as shame rips away the lingering effects of the drugs. “How’d I get here?” Last I remember I was wrapped in Celia’s arms.
Celia.
Will she ever forgive me for what I’ve done?
“I moved you over here early this morning.”
I peer up at him, squinting. “I walked?”
“With some assistance, yeah.”
I push to stand and set down the coffee. “I need to talk to Celia.” To beg her forgiveness, to swear I’ll do better, and hope that she understands.
As I reach for the door, Cal’s voice stops me. “She’s gone, son.”
I turn around to stare at my uncle, swearing this is some kind of joke. “She left?”
He shoves his hands into his pockets and nods.
But . . . no, not like this. Not without saying goodbye. I’d planned to beg her to consider staying at least for a few more days. She can’t be gone.
I swing open the door and stumble-jog down the steps and into the crisp ocean air, grateful for the swift hit from the sun that wakens me a little more. I don’t knock, but throw open the door and find . . . nothing.
All the boxes are gone.
I race to the bedroom and as if last night were just a dream I find it empty. No bed. Nothing.
The kitchen counter is also void of anything that would give away that someone lived here just a handful of hours ago. The only thing that still lingers is the sweet scent of her skin that hangs in the air. I grasp onto that to stay sane because I know she was real and that the last ten days weren’t a hallucination.
I hear Cal’s footsteps cross the threshold and with my back to him I ask, “Did she leave anything for me?” A note? A goodbye? Anything?
“No.”
I sigh heavily and nod. “Right.” Because I’m a fucking nutcase. Ruined beyond repair. And so unworthy of her it’s not even fucking funny. I could tell her these things one thousand times and she’d never believe me, but last night I proved it.
“I’m going fishing.” I storm past Cal grateful to feel my keys in my pocket. Sooner I get out to sea the sooner I’ll be able to shake this disgusting feeling that’s tumbling around my gut.
“Aden, I’ll come with you—”
“I need to be alone.” I freeze and look up to Cal standing on the top step of Celia’s porch. “I’m really sorry about last night. Thank you for . . .” I swallow my pride and the lump forming in my throat. “Intervening.”
He nods, and I see the worry flashing in his eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid, ya hear?”
I turn and storm off and head right for the boat.
What he really means is don’t die.
He doesn’t get that I’ve tried, but this fucked-up life won’t give me up.
SAWYER
Walking down the cold hallway of the hospital sends chills through me as I drag my rolling suitcase to my sister’s room. My flip-flops slap against the linoleum to the beat of my heart.
It was nearly impossible to walk away from the cottages this morning without seeing Aden one last time. All the lights in Cal’s place were off and I hoped that Aden was sleeping well and dreaming of something other than war. I hoped he was dreaming of me.
“Sawyer!” The sound of my mom’s voice comes from a small waiting room outside a cluster of hospital rooms.
I let go of my bag just in time for her to crash into my arms.
“Thank God you’re here.” She pulls back and I can see these last few days have taken a toll on her. The dark circles around her eyes and frazzled hair show the signs of little sleep and a lot of worry.
“Where’s Dad?”
“He’s with Cece.” She takes my hand and I grab my bag as she leads me back to a room.
The lights are off but the hallway lights shine in enough for me to see her there. Machines beep softly and the unsteady rise and fall of her chest also has me fighting to take a full breath.
My dad peeks up from his position at her bedside and although he smiles it’s grim.
“How is she?” I move to her and she has an oxygen mask on and wires coming from her chest.
“It’s not good, honey,” my mom whispers.
I nod, expecting the heat of tears or the slice of pain, but feel nothing. Numb. As if none of this is real.
“Can she hear us?”
My dad nods and gives up his seat, motioning for me to sit with her. “She’s in and out. When she’s here it’s short, but she seems to understand.”
I drop into the seat and stare at my sister, unable to take my eyes off her for a second out of fear that I’ll miss a twitch that clues me in that she’s still with us.
“Amazing . . .” my mom whispers.
“It’s remarkable,” my dad’s rumbled voice says next.
I look up at them. “What?”
My mom is tucked under my dad’s arm and even though we’re surrounding my sister in what could be her final moments of life they’re both smiling softly at me. “You look so much like Celia right now.”
“I’ve always been able to tell you two apart, ever since you were babies, but right now . . .” My mom’s lip shakes. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were her.”
“Thank you.” I don’t know why but it feels like the best compliment I’ve ever received.
For the next few hours I sit in silence with my sister. My parents head home to grab a shower and some food and I share with Celia about my time in San Diego. I tell her about Brice and Zoë, about my brush with a shark, and the kind words Cal had for her. But mostly, I talk about Aden. His smile, his jokes, how he could be obnoxious and how much I’ll miss him. I expect reliving the memories to make me sad but as I talk I find myself smiling as warmth fills my chest.
The doctors and specialists come in to check her vitals and with somber expressions they explain it’s only a matter of time. The word hospice is tossed around and because I’m unable to comprehend what it all means I simply nod.
My parents come back and tell me to go eat, but walking through the hospital cafeteria, the food lacks appeal. And it’s then that my thoughts drift to Aden.
I’ve checked my phone and despite the fact that he hasn’t attempted to contact me I fight the urge to call him. But I can’t, because stringing this out will only hurt worse in the end. I decide on a glass of orange juice and drop to a table with my phone in my hand. Going into my contacts, I hit Aden’s info and my finger hovers over the button.
“Do it,” I tell myself. “Then it’ll be over.”
I close my eyes and touch the one button that’ll help me to move on from Aden. Not so much for my own good, but for his.
Block number.
Delete contact.
A wave of sadness crashes over me. I’d give anything to have him back. To call him up and spill everything I’m feeling. He’d comfort me. Call me freckles.
Or Cece.
How can I be so in love with someone who doesn’t even know who I am?
My phone vibrates in my hand and I startle and hope that by some miraculous chance he was thinking of me and decided to call.
My hopes crash when I see my mom on my caller ID.
“Mom, is everything okay?”
“She’s up. Hurry.”
I race from the cafeteria to the elevators, grateful to see the doors slide open just as I skate to a stop. Hurrying in I hit the button for the third floor and squeeze out the slit in the door before it’s fully open. Panting, I rush into the room and the movement causes my sister to turn to me. Her eyes aren’t as bright as they used to be and they slide back and forth as if she’s searching to find me. I cross to the bed and her gaze settles at my shoulders. “Sawyer,” she says weakly. The oxygen mask is at her neck so when she smiles I can see the full extension of her lips.
“Hey.” I cross to the bed and drop down by her hip, pulling her hand into mine.
“You’re back.” She draws in a ragged breath.
“We’ll give you two some privacy.” My dad ushers my mom out the door and closes it but I see them standing right outside through the window.
“How are you feeling?”
“Sucks being in the hospital . . .” She hesitates, trying to catch her breath. “But I’m not in pain or anything.”
“Good.” I reach over and pull the oxygen mask back up to cover her nose and mouth.
She takes a full breath and I realize then my mom was right. Celia tries to act tough around me, but she’s been much sicker than she let on.
A few pregnant seconds pass between us.
“Are you tan?”
She really can’t see me. Grief threatens to send me to my knees, but I push it back. “I am. Turns out being you requires more sun exposure than I’m used to.”
Her smile falls. “I’m gonna miss that.”
My nose burns and my throat swells but I refuse to cry. “I know you will.”
“Did you take my advice . . . tell Aden who you were?”
I shake my head, unable to speak the words.
She must take my silence as a no and frowns. “Oh, Sawyer . . .”
“I’m fine. It was a summer fling, I’m happy it’s over so I can be home and spend time with you.”
Her lips quiver. “I don’t have . . . much time left.”
“Of course you do.”
“You sound sad.” She squeezes my hand but it’s weak.
“I am.” Tears burn my eyes. “I’m not ready.”
“I know, but I am.” She pats the bed next to her and I curl up beside her. She turns her body as best she can so we can face each other and our hands clasp together between us, just like we always do when we’re in bed together. Her eyes search my face and settle on my chin. “Tell me, tell me you got . . . a taste of what it’s like to not . . . get caught up in your head. Tell me . . .” She takes a few deep breaths, or tries. “You loved it and you’re going to live the rest of your life . . . every opportunity even if . . . they don’t make sense.”
“I did. I will.”
Her eyes slide shut and open so slowly. “Good. That’s all . . . I ever wanted for you.”
“Cal wanted me to tell you hi and give you a hug.”
“Does . . . anyone else know?”
“No.”
“You still have the . . . coin?”
“It’s in my bag.”
She takes a shaky breath. “Promise . . . you’ll use it.”
“I promise, Cece.” I sniff back tears. “But you have to make me a promise too. Hang on a little longer. Fight for more time. Promise me.”
She smiles. “Okay, for you . . . I will.”
Celia kept her promise.
Fi
ve days later she slipped into a coma, but she refused to let go.
The doctors were baffled. They threw around words like miracle and medically impossible, but I knew better. Celia was stubborn and would die on her terms.
Thirteen days after I returned from San Diego, Celia took her last breath.
Cradled to our mother’s chest to the soundtrack of our tears she was rocked softly into the afterlife.
Even though I swore to Cal that I’d contact him once Celia passed, I wasn’t able to. I couldn’t bring myself to reopen the communication between us and figured it would be better this way.
He’d never have to know that just four days before her twenty-fifth birthday she finally let go, and maybe he’d even believe she beat death back and went on to travel the world.
That’s how she would’ve wanted it.
So that’s how I’ll keep her memory alive.
TWENTY-SIX
ADEN
“You sure I can trust you with this?” My uncle’s giving me the look. I’ve seen it so often over these last however fucking long it’s been that it’s almost losing its punch. Almost.
It’s the look that says, “Don’t fuck this up” and “Is this really who you want to be?” It’s testing and challenging and I’m sure it’s meant to make me feel something that’ll push me to action, but I’d have to give a shit to care and, well . . . I don’t.
I haven’t heard from Celia since the night she held me in her arms and calmed my inner raging seas. I don’t know how long it’s been but it feels like a lifetime since I’ve felt alive.
Cal has been a constant pain in my ass refusing to leave and taking over all my duties at the cottages when I couldn’t pull myself out of a bar long enough to do them.
But he’s put up with my crap, he’s given me a purpose and hasn’t intervened too badly when I’ve traveled down self-destruction lane. I owe him the effort.
“Of course.” I don’t blame him for being leery about leaving this up to me. The day after she left he donated her car and I lost it. I blacked out for an entire day. After that I made him promise to keep Celia’s old place empty until I was ready to let it go. If it were my call I’d say we burn it down and put a fucking graveyard in its place, but it’s not, so fuck it. Life goes on, I guess.
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