by Katie Cross
A litany of curse words streamed through my head because he’d already voiced my greatest fear. I quieted them, but the questions invaded anyway. Was it wrong to sweep in, tell her how I felt, and then leave again? Was this about me, or her? It should be about her, but I couldn’t deny my own selfish interests.
Ellie had recovered her wits and kept walking, her gaze on the floor now. Kimball reluctantly ambled over to the class, but his eyes hadn’t left Ellie’s back. They darted to mine next, and I met them. My expression hardened. He kept my gaze. Something in his face didn’t sit right with me. He was harmless enough, probably, but I still didn’t like him.
Kimball turned away as Ellie slowed to a stop a few feet away from me. I turned to give her my full attention.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
With a jerk of my head, I motioned to the bag. “Great form.”
“Thanks.”
All right. The awkward conversation had returned.
“Listen, can I—”
“About yesterday—”
We both spoke at the same time, but she quieted first. A hint of amusement lingered in her half-raised lips before it faded into a frown. The fact that she hadn’t swept by with her middle finger in the air encouraged me.
“I’m sorry about surprising you yesterday.” I let out a breath, infusing as much honesty into it that I could. “Maybe it wasn’t fair, but I just wanted to explain myself. And now that I’m here, I want to know what it’s been like for you since I left. I want to . . . take responsibility for what I did.”
The words hurt to say, and they seemed to startle her. Was it the first time I’d taken responsibility for the fact that I massively broke her heart? Probably. I’d avoided her for years, unable to reconcile my true feelings over what I’d done. I’d been a coward then, but life had a way of changing.
No more cowards now.
She hesitated, then nodded. “That’s fine.”
“That’s fine, I can explain, or it’s fine that I surprised you?”
Lines formed between her eyebrows. “Both, I guess. If you want a chance to explain, I’ll give it. I have to work until four, but you can come to the shop then. We’ll go out on the lake. I still have the boat. We can talk there.”
Relief tripled through me. “Thank you.”
She lifted one eyebrow. Behind her, Kimball’s eyes bored into her back. I ignored him. Yeah, I wanted to say, you definitely have competition.
“All right.” I nodded. The air conditioning made goosebumps prickle on my arms. “I’ll see you at the back of the Frolicking Moose at four.”
Ellie nodded, then brushed past without another word. Kimball stared at me from across the room before I nodded to Jax and left with a mental middle finger in the air, pointed right at Kimball.
5
Ellie
Cool water lapped against my ankles as I shoved the old canoe halfway into the lake. A short rope would keep it from going anywhere while I watched for leaks. It was the first time I’d brought the canoe out this year.
In three years, actually.
The sound of tires on gravel followed shortly after I’d satisfied my curiosity that we wouldn’t sink and drown. My lips twitched. Sinking had happened once, actually, when I was fourteen and Devin was fifteen. We took an old canoe out, it sank halfway out of the peninsula, and we had to swim back together. He tried to convince me he was manly enough to give me a piggyback ride and swim back to shore, but almost ended up killing both of us instead.
A car door shut and drew me from the memory. Feet approached with the crunch of gravel under shoes. My heart fluttered a little knowing Devin would be there. I straightened as a tackle box and fishing pole landed in the canoe. When I looked up, he had a lopsided smile.
“Figured I might as well.”
I couldn’t help but half-heartedly return it. He looked so goofy. So boyish. He stopped to roll up an old pair of jeans that fit his narrow hips well. An old t-shirt stretched across his shoulders, a bit too tight. Likely one he’d found at home and tried it on because his laundry wasn’t done, I’d bet. He’d put on at least twenty pounds since I’d last seen him, but it had all been mass. Devin had seemed strong and indomitable in high school, but he was puny then compared to now.
“Ready?” I asked as I put the paddles inside.
He rubbed his hands together. “Been waiting all day.”
After I pushed the canoe out the rest of the way, I climbed in. He gave us another little jolt, then leaped in behind me with smoother agility than I’d expected. We assumed our childhood positions with me at the front, him at the back. The canoe rode lower in the water than last time with his bulkier weight, but felt more stable. We faced out to the reservoir and began to paddle.
For almost twenty minutes, nothing but the glide of smooth water beneath us could be heard. The sounds of Pineville disappeared as we rowed out in silence to the empty, still heart of the reservoir. My heart lay heavy in my throat. I both dreaded and anticipated what he would say. For years I had tried to understand what led him to the decision, but it had all been questions.
Until he could explain it, I’d never truly know. Now, it seemed surreal that I’d soon understand the machinations behind the hard years at my back.
“Can we try here?”
The sound of his voice in the silence was like a gunshot. Drops of water splatted my back as he pulled his paddle in. I nodded and did the same. While he flipped open his tackle box and started to rummage through, I grabbed the bag I’d stowed. After I removed my flip-flops and set them aside, I turned around to face him. I’d been a coward in the tree before, but not this time.
The sun felt hot on my skin, countering the still, cool water, chilled from snow run-off in the highest mountains. Sunglasses hid my eyes, which made it easier to study him while he worked. He seemed at ease. His face was smooth and movements intent. He didn’t stammer or try to make small talk. He never had.
Out here, like this, without the clutter of Pineville around us, he seemed to be the old Devin. So much so that I half grinned when he muttered under his breath about a missing lure. I reached behind me, grabbed my own tackle box that I’d hidden under my bag, and passed it over.
“I raided yours.”
His head lifted. He looked at me, then the tackle box, and back to me.
“After you left.” I motioned to his box with a hand. “I raided it. All your best lures are in here, I would bet.”
A quick grin took me by surprise. “Took all the good stuff, I see.”
“You deserved it.”
He laughed, then dove into my tackle box. The tension eased while he prepped his line with the lure and fresh bait. The smell of earth and worms and slime filled the air like a reassuring memory. Minutes later, he cast the line. It flopped a few feet away.
“Embarrassing,” he muttered as he reeled it back in.
I laughed.
“Worst time of day to fish anyway,” he said. “Except, it’s—”
“It’s not about the fish,” I replied, echoing his usual line so quickly it startled both of us. For a brief tangle, our eyes met, then skated away. I reached for my water bottle just to have something to do and took a sip.
“Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “It never was.”
Silence fell between us. Seconds stretched into minutes. My lips were tied. I had no idea what to say or where to start.
His voice broke the stillness like a firework again.
“I meant it when I said I didn’t want to go.”
He leaned back a little, looking perfectly at ease. As if we weren’t about to hash into our dark history. As if the secrets that had been smoldering in the background for years weren’t about to be thrown wide open. Like me, sunglasses hid his eyes. It seemed to make everything less intense.
“But you went.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “And damn, if I haven’t regretted it every day.”
There was nothing to say, so I waited. A few mom
ents later, he continued. “Dad’s back surgery set my parents back financially quite a bit. Do you remember that?”
I nodded, awash with vague memories of hospitals. Millie’s exhausted, fearful expression. Devin’s father had been in the hospital and then rehab for what felt like months. He’d regained his ability to walk, but the pain still plagued him for years. Even now, after recent physical therapy, he still had to take it easy.
“That sort of hospital stay, the rehab?” He tsked under his breath. “Just about wiped them out. We didn’t have health insurance at the time and had to take out a second mortgage to cover the bills. Mom applied for charities, tried to find ways to fundraise, you name it. Credit cards maxed out, that kind of thing.”
He let out a soft breath, a half-chuckle, as he shook his head. He tugged on his line as he admitted, “Maverick paid for my senior football season.”
I reared back. “What?”
He nodded and looked right at me. “Yeah. I was too embarrassed to tell anyone that we couldn’t afford all the gear, new cleats, that kind of stuff. Maverick offered after I told the coach I couldn’t play. Mav found out somehow.” He shrugged. “Don’t know how. He paid for everything.”
“I didn’t know that.”
Devin lifted his shoulders. “He promised he wouldn’t say. All the times I ate at your house? I did it because we didn’t have the money for a lot of food. Maverick and Bethany were always so generous. I was a teenager and a football player. Mom couldn’t keep up with my appetite. We were on food stamps. Bethany even paid for my tux for prom in exchange for free haircuts from Mom. She lied to my Mom and said it cost half of what it did.”
“Is that why you always ate at the coffee shop while we worked?” I asked, recalling days when he’d wolf down three sandwiches, five drinks, and a few scones. He’d forfeit his pay for the day.
He nodded.
My gut clenched. Money had always been tight at the Blaine household, but I hadn’t realized just how much. After his dad broke his back, they lived off what Millie could make as a hairstylist, which couldn’t have been much. Now that I looked back, it seemed like an obvious problem. Only a teenager would miss something like that.
Devin kept going, jaw tight as he gazed over the lake.
“So I practically lived with and ate with your family, which relieved some of the cost of food. Most of my clothes were thrift store finds out of Jackson City. I guess Mom would stay there for hours looking for stuff that seemed new so that I wasn’t embarrassed. I wouldn’t have cared, but she didn’t want me to be ashamed. She tried so hard, but there was no making that kind of money back.”
He leaned forward. He was more lost in the story than here on the canoe, now.
“When we started making those plans the summer before I graduated, I really meant to follow through.” He frowned. “Going to the state university with you? Sounded like a dream. Saving up money and then going to college with you would have been awesome. I didn’t . . . I didn’t want you to go alone. It didn’t seem safe or . . .” He paused, shook his head, and kept going. “As time went on, however, I started to do the math. The jobs I could get as an eighteen-year-old were mostly minimum wage. Even working two jobs and saving everything I could meant that I’d barely save enough for the first semester. But I couldn’t work like that and go to school once it started.”
Devin had always been gifted with learning. While I struggled with math and hated to read because it bored me, he sailed through his classes. Quarterback. Straight A student. Well-liked everywhere. College scholarships seemed inevitable.
But they hadn’t been.
“Then I lost the big scholarship I applied for, and I still don’t know why,” he said as if he’d just read my mind. “Jobs were hard to secure. I saw the writing on the wall.”
He let out a long breath and finally looked back at me. His fishing pole lay on the side of the canoe. Nothing would nibble now, and we’d both known it. But it felt better to act like we still participated in one of the things we both loved.
“Then my parents’ debts were called. They had to put a $7,000 payment down or lose the house and be forced to file for bankruptcy.” He held out his hands in a helpless gesture. “We have no family to fall back on. My parents would have been homeless or a charity case.”
Breath fled my chest. Without knowing the details, I saw where this slowly moved. Saw how the pieces stacked together. How the dominos were about to fall. A fluttery feeling had become my heart. If it came together the way I imagined it would, I made a grave mistake three years ago.
Dev kept going, even though I wanted to ask him to stop. It felt like we careened down a train track and couldn’t stop. My stomach felt like a wrung-out old rag.
“The Marines offered a $5,000 sign-on bonus if I enlisted with the infantry for six years. So I signed the damn paper and gave the bonus to my parents. They were able to come up with the rest and keep the house. Once I got a paycheck, I tried to send money home, but they wouldn’t take it. Dad’s pride barely allowed him to take the $5,000. Eventually, Dad found a job he can do without standing all day, which helped. Without me there taking up gas money and food and other stuff, they were able to make ends meet.”
He exhaled a long breath. “But the debt still remained, as did their pride. So, I approached Maverick with an idea to be a blind investor for my mom. He and Mark Bailey went to her with the idea to renovate her salon, then slowly offer more things, like a spa. Apparently, Mark had been trying to open a spa but, because Stella still hadn’t agreed with him on it, it never happened. Anyway, the plan worked. She took the bait and made more money. Their debts went down.
“I sent Mark more money, and Mark convinced her to open another business in Jackson City. That increased her revenue more so that they could upgrade the house a bit and start Dad with physical therapy. The house desperately needs improvements, and they’ve been able to start into them. They’re almost out of the worst debt now and back to just the mortgage.”
I silently agreed that their house needed a lot of work, then almost laughed. The shining new fridge suddenly made more sense. Millie had cried when they delivered it, clutching her Bible and muttering prayers of thanks under her breath.
Despite a moment of levity, my entire body felt cold, like I’d plunged back into the lake. All of this lay behind his decision. All of this history suddenly brought intense clarity to the story.
And he’d never told me.
Or maybe I just hadn’t listened.
The last three years lay like a graveyard between us—a useless graveyard. Could all of this have been prevented? Had I done something wrong? My breath felt thready and weak, like I couldn’t catch it no matter how hard I tried.
“Dev, I didn’t know they struggled so much. I—”
“I know.” His gaze dropped then. “I know, and that is my fault. I just didn’t want you to know. You’ve always worried about things, and I think I had a little too much pride.” His brow furrowed. “Like my parents. Anyway, my parents still think that Mark was the investor behind the idea, but it’s me. I’ve fronted almost $30,000 over the last three years for them to do it, and now it’s paying out. One day I’ll tell them, but not now, so please—”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Thank you.”
I swallowed hard because I didn’t know what to say. Several long minutes passed while I comprehended all that he told me. Understanding it came with a surprising amount of rage. If he had just trusted me. If he had just told me. The last three years could have been avoided. I could have supported him in the Marines. Helped his family. I could have done something to keep us together and avoid all those dark nights crying myself to sleep.
You could have supported him regardless of the history, came the thought. For the first time, I didn’t brush it away. There were opportunities I didn’t give him to explain. The weight of the last three years also lay on me.
Our current position was as much my fault as it was his. The sil
ence waited for my response, and I was grateful that he gave me time to think it over. To deal with the overwhelm of my own responsibility in this.
“Thank you for telling me, Dev. I . . . admire your loyalty to your parents. That’s a big sacrifice to make.”
He waved that off.
My whisper came out quietly. “I’m sorry.”
After I said it, the gentle lap of the lake against the boat filled the air. Did he know how much my words truly encompassed? That I was sorry for not trusting him enough to get an explanation sooner? That I was sorry so much time had passed that we couldn’t take back now? That he’d made such a decision without once consulting me in all that time? I felt sorry and sad for both of us.
He licked his lips, then shook his head. Before he could say another word, I forced the rest out.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t give you a chance to explain. You tried.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Several moments later, he said, “It’s my fault, Ellie. I’m the one that should be apologizing.”
The sound of my name off his lips sent a physical thrill through me.
“It’s my fault that these three years happened this way,” he said with feeling. “That I chickened out and didn’t come home. That I didn’t tell you sooner and explain sooner and row you out here on this damn canoe and tell you when you couldn’t escape. To tell you at prom? I . . .”
Frustration made his entire body rigid. I could feel the sincerity of his regret, and it cut deep. Didn’t we both bear responsibility? If just one of us had trusted the other enough. If we had just—
I cut that thought off. We could have done a lot, but we didn’t. Now we had a three-year chasm to either ignore or try to gap.
“We’re both at fault, Dev.”
He frowned, not seeming any better for the admission. I appreciated the sentiment because, while I was grateful to understand, I felt worse. I drew in a deep breath and rubbed my hand over my knees, cold despite the persuasive heat from the warm summer sun on my skin.