Changing Lanes

by Vining, Season

  “Looks like a broken leg and a minor laceration on his rump. I’ll need to do an x-ray to check for internal damage, but the fact that he’s still lucid is a good sign. You guys can stay here while I take him.”

  Dr. Kent rolls the metal table away as Lane and I watch Chap disappear. Lane drops into a chair, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hand.

  “Fuck,” he whispers. “Fuck.”

  I take a seat next to him, feeling unsure about what my role here is. I place a hand on his back and rub small circles there. I feel Lane’s body sag under my touch and know that he needs me here and I made the right decision. He exhales a long breath, wipes at his eyes and lifts his face to meet mine.

  “He’s going to be okay,” I say.

  Lane shakes his head. “You don’t know that.”

  I look down at my lap. He’s right. I don’t know anything. “Let’s just keep a positive attitude until we know otherwise, right?”

  He nods. I return my hand to my lap and we sit in silence for a few minutes. My knees bounce up and down as time seems to drag by slower than normal.

  “Thank you for coming,” Lane says, sitting back in his chair and resting his head on the cinderblock wall behind us.

  “Of course.”

  Lane rolls his head towards me, but I stare straight ahead. I tell myself to keep it together, be strong for Chap. I know that one look at Lane will destroy any strength I currently possess.

  “Stella,” he says, but stops when Dr. Kent pushes through the door with Chap.

  “Good news,” the doctor says. “No internal bleeding. Just the cut and broken leg.” We both sigh in relief, as I pat Lane’s knee. “I’ll have to sedate him a bit to set the break and stitch up the cut. I’d like to keep him here overnight to watch him, but he should be able to go home tomorrow.”

  “He’ll be here alone?” I ask, scooting to the edge of my chair.

  “No,” Dr. Kent says, pausing. “I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.”

  “I’m Stella.”

  “No, Stella. I’ll have one of my techs come in for a night shift. And I’ll be back in the morning. Lane, I’ll keep you updated.”

  Lane stands and I follow him to the table. He scratches between Chap’s ears and rests his hand on the table. Chap nudges Lane’s fingers before licking them. I smile.

  “Same old dog, always looking for attention,” I say.

  “I’m going to leave you here tonight,” Lane says, looking Chap in the eyes. “But I’ll be back for you tomorrow. And we’ll have a long talk about the fucking heart attack you gave me.”

  I chuckle. And run my hand over Chap’s head a few times. “You’ll be back on your lil stumps in no time.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Kent,” Lane says, holding out a hand for the veterinarian to shake. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Don’t worry. He’s in good hands,” Dr. Kent replies as we head for the door.

  We walk through the quiet building and Lane pushes out the front door, holding it open for me. It’s not until now that I realize I don’t have a coat and it’s freezing. I wrap my arms around myself, rubbing to generate some heat. We climb into the truck and Lane puts the heater on full blast.

  “Sorry, it’ll take a few minutes to warm up.” He twists in his seat and looks in the back. “I think I have a jacket in here.” Lane pulls a tan jacket from behind me and hands it over. I pull it on without hesitation. Humming at the bit of warmth it provides. Zipping it up, I duck my nose inside to warm my face and get hit with the scent of Lane Holder. That familiar ache returns as I realize how much I miss him.

  Lane backs out of the driveway and hits the road back toward our neighborhood. We are only a couple of minutes into the drive when he slams on the brakes and pulls to the side of the road. Gravel crunches under the tires as we come to a stop.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, my face still buried in his jacket.

  He doesn’t look at me, just stares out the front windshield at the empty road in front of us. “You haven’t spoken to me in weeks,” he says with a sigh. “If this is the only way, so be it. Stella, I miss you.”

  Just as he turns to look at me, I turn to look out the window. I blink away tears, because he doesn’t get to see me cry. When I remain quiet, he goes on.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner about the books. But it’s a big secret to tell and it’s not just my secret, you know? Besides my agent and publisher, four other people know and that’s it.”

  I inhale slowly and try to clear my head. “I understand,” I say, finally turning to meet his eyes. “It’s just, I’ve never felt so betrayed, so blind-sided. And I’m the woman who found her husband of twenty years in bed with her skank best friend!”

  “I understand,” he says, repeating my words.

  “You knew what I’d just been through. You knew how leery I was of trusting anyone and you convinced me to take a chance on you. I did and look where it got me.” I drop my eyes to my lap and hold my hands in front of the vents to warm them.

  “Stella,” he says. When I don’t look up. “Stella,” he repeats. “We were happy, right?”

  I lean my head against the cool glass, pressing my flushed cheek to the window. “All relationships are happy at first.”

  “We were not all relationships,” he says. “We were special. We still are. Just give me a second chance and I’ll prove it. I’ll tell you anything you want to know—answer all your questions.”

  My mind spins with questions and possibilities and I just can’t force anything to stick. “I don’t know, Lane. How could I ever trust you again?” I throw my hands up before tucking them into the pockets of his jacket.

  “I don’t have any other secrets, Stella. Besides this one little thing, you know me.”

  My head whips toward him now. “One little thing? I’d say this is a big thing, Lane. You let me go on and on, gushing about my love for Alaina’s… your novels. I feel like a fool. It’s a feeling I’m too familiar with to let go of. Please just take me home.”

  “Babe,” he pleads.

  “Please,” I whisper, turning to the window again. That nickname cuts through me. Lane puts the truck in drive and pulls back onto the road. Once he is parked in his garage, I start to remove his jacket.

  “Keep it,” he says. “You can return it later.”

  I shake my head, shrug out of the jacket and leave it in his truck, along with my dried up tears and doubtful heart.

  _______________

  December first, Brea gives birth to Ashley. He’s a perfectly healthy baby with a round face and an obnoxious amount of black hair on his head. I relish every photo she sends and even get to see him when we video chat. Brea looks exhausted, but sublimely happy—even with my mother staying with them. I’m sad to miss such a big event and twice I almost buy airline tickets back home before stopping myself. As much as I’d love to see them, the chance of running into my ex and his dick bait in my emotional state scares me to death.

  By the middle of December, the cold has really kicked in and we’ve gotten our first snow. I’m out in the front yard with Marley, spinning in circles until I’m so dizzy I have to lean against my car. We make snowballs and throw them at each other and a tiny little snowman. Just as I am wrapping my scarf around Sir Chilly Balls—named by Marley—I hear the telltale sound of Lane’s front door opening and shutting.

  My head snaps up as I slowly stand and face him. Somehow, in this tiny town and living 50 feet away, it’s the first time I’ve seen him since returning from the vet. Marley stays silent as we stand in our driveways, just staring across the yard. Just the sight of him stirs a dormant ache in my chest, a tightening in my gut. His eyes are pleading. For what? I don’t know. Forgiveness? A conversation? Nothing I am prepared to give. Finally, he gives me a tiny grin and a wave before tucking in his earbuds and taking off in the opposite direction.

  “Well, that wasn’t awkward,” Marley says. We head inside and warm up with some hot chocolat
e.

  _______________

  “Exhale,” Reagan says to the class. “Aaaand we’re done. See you next week.”

  Everyone packs up and heads for the door while Marley, Kennedy, and I sit on our mats near the front mirrors. Reagan tells the last person goodbye and joins us on the floor.

  “I cannot believe I let you guys talk me into this,” Kennedy says. “I cannot sit still or quiet for this long. Yoga is not my jam.”

  Marley lays back on her mat, and rolls over to lay on her stomach. “Well, I love it. It makes me more flexible, which is super helpful when you’re trying to nail every position in the Kama Sutra.”

  “Overshare,” Reagan says, smacking Marley on the ass.

  “What? I have a checklist. And don’t get cheeky just because you’re not getting laid,” Marley says. She looks at all three of us. “Oh my god. I’m the only one currently getting shagged. This is a Hallmark movie moment,” she says, miming wiping away a tear.

  “Oh, please,” Reagan says. “You’re way too dirty for Hallmark. You’re an HBO special if I ever saw one.”

  “God, I miss sex,” I say, not even realizing it was out loud. All eyes turn to me. “What? It only happened once, but it was good. Very fucking good. Like erect a golden statue of Lane and worship it good. Just reminded me of what I’ve been missing.”

  “You said erect,” Marley points out.

  Kennedy nudges my shoulder. “Don’t worry. He didn’t ruin sex. He ruined your trust in him. There’s a difference.”

  “I know,” I say, waving a hand in her direction. “And I miss him so much. That man gave me more in a couple of months than my ex gave me in twenty years. He helped me rediscover my confidence and sexuality. Of course I’m indebted to him for that.” I tighten my ponytail and brush my bangs from my eyes. “Chap is recovering well, so cute in his cone of shame. I just want to snuggle that dog and his owner and forget what happened.”

  “Then do it,” Marley says with a groan. “Stop being such a drama llama.”

  I chuckle. “Stop stealing my shit,” I say. She smiles. “I don’t know. I’m waiting for the grand gesture. I need to know that he was serious when he said he loved me. That it wasn’t a desperate plea to make me stay. That I’m not a passing phase and he’s not my rebound guy. That’s reasonable, right?”

  Marley sits up now and takes both of my hands in hers. “You will never be certain of any of those things until you give him a chance.”

  “Stella,” Reagan says, “this man wants to love you so much. We can all see it so plainly. You just have to let him. You’ve been ignoring him for weeks now. I know you want him too. What’s stopping you?”

  I rest my chin on my pulled up knees and shrug. “You guys want to see pictures of my baby nephew?” I ask.

  They all squeal and smile over photos of Ashley and I’ve done my job at distracting them from making me face reality. I’m getting good at distraction. Too good.

  21

  ALL IT TAKES to decide to return home for Christmas is my niece asking. She shows me a sleeping Ashley and turns the screen back toward her face.

  “Auntie Stella, are you coming home for Christmas? I really miss you so much and I need to show you all my new tiaras.”

  I smile as she twirls with the phone. “Sure, sweetie. I’ll come home. Tell your mommy I’ll call her tomorrow.”

  “Yaaaay!” she shouts. “Bye! I love you!”

  “Love you too, Scarlett.”

  My next call is to Becca, asking if she’d be okay with me taking some time off. She says since her daughter is in for the month, it’s not a problem. She even offers to pick up my mail while I’m gone. I thank her and hop online to book my ticket. I’ll fly out two days before Christmas and return a week later. The girls have all decided to gather at my place for New Year’s Eve since Hamilton Bay does an enormous fireworks display out on the lake.

  Excited about a trip back home—and especially warmer temperatures—I pack my suitcase that night. I take my time, making sure I’ve thought of everything. By the time I’m finished, I’ve got my suitcase by the door with my carry on bag, which is stuffed with snacks, my printed out itinerary, my e-reader, passport, and phone charger. Just two more days of work and I'll be back in the South where, even with the humidity, I’ll be able to breathe a little easier.

  _______________

  The morning of my flight is a complete disaster. First, I sleep through my alarm and wake up in a panic. I’ve got no time for a shower, so I spray enough dry shampoo in my hair that the cloud chokes me. Throwing a few last minute toiletries into my bag, I zip it up and drag it down the stairs with my carry on over my shoulder. The weight and momentum of the suitcase makes me lose my balance and I fall down the last three steps.

  “Ow,” I groan, getting to my feet and rubbing my surely bruised ass. I shoot a death glare at the suitcase and yank it back up to standing on its wheels.

  I drag everything onto the front porch only to find that it snowed last night. While I’m lucky that the plow has already been by, I am not lucky that it somehow pushed a huge pile of snow into my driveway, blocking my car.

  “What the Christmas crackers is this?” I say, throwing up my hands in surrender. I’ll never make it to the airport in time. I look over to see that Lane’s driveway is pretty clear and with his truck he could make it out of here no problem. So, I suck up my pride and march across the white covered yard to knock on his door.

  I hear Chap bark inside and by the time my third knock pounds on the door, it swings open. Lane is standing there, all sleepy-eyed and tousled hair. He’s got flannel pajama pants on and no shirt. Chap runs out to greet me.

  “I’m sorry. I know it’s early, but I’ve got to get to the airport and I’m afraid my Subaru cannot climb that mountain of snow at the end of my driveway. Is there any way you can drive me to Syracuse?” He rubs at his eyes and runs a hand across his bare stomach. “Like now? I’m already running late and I really don’t want to miss this flight. It’s the holidays. There probably aren’t any other flights. I’d be put on standby and spend hours, possibly days sitting in the terminal. I’d probably run out of snacks after like an hour since I eat when I’m nervous.”

  Lane chuckles and holds out a hand to stop me. “Okay, okay,” he says. “Let me put a shirt on. Come in.”

  Chap and I follow him inside. I give my buddy a few belly rubs and watch as Lane takes the stairs two at time. Opening the door to the garage, I drag my suitcase and bag in there and wait for Lane. He’s only a few seconds behind me, still in pajama pants. He’s added a thermal shirt, his glasses, a coat, and boots.

  He unlocks the truck and hits the button to open the garage doors. I climb into the passenger seat while he loads my stuff in the back. Lane starts the truck and turns the heater on as I buckle up.

  “It’s usually only 30 minutes, but the snow could slow us down,” he says backing out of the driveway, slushing through the snow. “I’ll get you there as fast as I can.”

  “Thank you,” I say, rubbing my gloved hands together for warmth. “I really appreciate it. Here I am being a damsel in distress again.”

  “If it makes you feel better, pretend we’re just friendly neighbors helping each other out.”

  I sink into my seat and blow out a breath. “After what you made me feel…” I stop and look down at my fidgeting hands. “I don’t think I’d be good at pretending anything.”

  With the rush and the frantic blundering earlier, I didn’t have time to feel anything. But now, trapped in this truck with him for the next half hour, my stomach twists in knots. I practice my breathing techniques to calm my pulse and stare out of my window.

  A strange sensation, like a slight tingle, starts in my thighs and travels up, settling in my ass. It’s mild at first, but with each second it grows more and more intense. I squirm a bit, trying to get some relief, but it’s still there. Starting to panic, I use my hands to push up and try to get my butt off the seat, but the seatbelt keeps me i
n place. It really feels intense now and I think I may be having an allergic reaction or something.

  “Are you okay?” Lane asks, glancing over and then back to the road.

  “My ass!” I shout. “My ass is burning!” Lane bursts out laughing and presses a button on his dashboard. “I have some kind of flesh eating disease and you’re laughing?”

  “It’s just the seat warmers. I turned it down,” he says through more laughter.

  I sink back into the seat and realize that it is just warmth radiating up through the leather seat bottom. I exhale and cover my face with both hands.

  “Oh my god, I am such an idiot,” I say while still hiding.

  “You’re not an idiot. What would a woman from Georgia know about seat warmers?” he asks.

  I drop my hands to my lap and grin. “Can we just pretend this never happened?” I beg.

  Lane shrugs. “I’ll think about it.” His eyes slide to me for a moment. “God, I miss that smile of yours.”

  Those words make my smile disappear, but I want to tell him I miss him too. Instead I lean against the glass and watch the miles fly by. The rest of the drive is silent until we get to the airport. I point out which airline I’m flying out of and Lane pulls to a stop outside the doors. I grab my carry on bag and wait on the curb, checking my phone for the time. A few people stand outside smoking, but it’s too cold for anything else.

  I spin to face the truck to see what’s taking Lane so long and find him waiting there with my suitcase. He rolls it over to me. Our hands connect on the handle and this simple touch brings back every touch.

  “I gotta go,” I say, motioning to the building. He nods and I turn toward the doors.

  “You’re coming back, right?” he asks.

  I stop and turn to look at him over my shoulder. “Yes. This is my home now.”

  Lane grins and I head inside, making my flight with only a few minutes to spare.

  22

  RETURNING TO SAVANNAH for the holiday is just what I need to recharge emotionally. Luckily, I had already done all my shopping and had mailed everyone’s gifts ahead of time. So, there was no last minute shopping or any of that stress. I just spend time with my family, meet my new nephew and enjoy the warmer temperatures.