by Gina Azzi
"Hey Evie."
"How's it going, Mindy? How's your grandmother doing?"
Mindy shifts her weight from foot-to-foot, watching me curiously out of the corner of her eye. No doubt she's heard about me, stories both fiction and truth. Small towns are notorious for festering gossip, and ours is no different. "Holding up okay. Good days and bad. Today's a good one. I'll tell her you stopped by." She turns her eyes on me, and I'm struck by how similar they are to Gladys's. "You too. She'll be happy to hear that you're back. And together." Her eyes dart between Evie and me.
"Please tell her hello, and that I would really like to stop by to see her if she doesn't mind," I find myself saying. But after the words are out and I can't take them back, I realize it's the truth. For how much I couldn't wait to leave this town, there are some people and things that are so embedded in my past that coming home without them is almost like not coming home at all. And Gladys is one of those people.
Mindy’s face brightens, a dimple in her left cheek flashing. Just like Gladys. "I'm sure she'd like that. What can I get for y'all?"
"Burger, fries, and a water," Evie says, shoving her untouched menu back in the corner of the table.
"Same for me. But add a Heineken and a piece of cherry pie. I hear yours is just as good as Gladys's."
Mindy blushes at the compliment and mumbles a thank you. "I'll get your drinks right over."
She turns and walks toward that bar, calling out one Heineken to Lenny.
Evie turns back to me. "You're really going to visit Gladys?"
"Yeah. I'd like to see her again. You know, for a long time, she was…" I swallow past the unexpected lump that forms in my throat. For a long time, Gladys was the closest thing I had to a maternal figure and when I cut town, I didn't look back. Not long enough to ever check in on her, only knowing tidbits of information Carter would randomly supply. "I'd like to see her."
"She'll be over the moon to see you, too."
"She's not well?"
"Alzheimer's."
The lump in my throat grows, and I have to work to swallow past it. Carter never mentioned that. Hoping to redirect the conversation, I ask, "So, what'd you do today?"
"Honest?"
"Uh, yeah. I don't expect you to lie."
Her nose wrinkles in the most adorable way, "I watched about three hours of Jane the Virgin."
"What's that?"
"Stop it! You haven't seen it? It's such a funny show. I think you'd… actually, you wouldn't like it at all. But it's on Netflix, so that's a plus. Do you have any TV shows that you watch?"
"Not really. Usually whatever Carter's got playing in the background. You know us Kane brothers, we're more into—"
"Video games."
"Exactly."
"War Cry?"
"How'd you know?"
“As if it would be anything else.”
I grin, and she smiles back and it happens again. The air seems to simultaneously expand and squeeze tighter, and it's like it's just us again.
Then Mindy plunks down our drinks, and the stillness explodes, causing Evie and I to look at each other and laugh, and Mindy to look at us like we're crazy. But in a way we are. Always have been.
The remainder of our meal follows like old times. We joke and laugh. Eat our burgers. I pick French fries off of Evie's plate after I finish my own portion. She sips her water, and I order a second beer. We share a piece of cherry pie.
There's smiling and laughing. Trips down memory lane and hints of future plans together.
She tells me about how nervous she is to submit her application for Army-Baylor. I tell her about how relieved I am that my shoulder finally seems to be improving. We share and confide and have a really great time.
When we're leaving Raf's and the door closes behind us, I ask her if she wants to come hang at my house.
When she agrees, I know we're taking another step forward.
Together.
20
Evie
Stepping inside Jax's house is like stepping back in time. So much of it is exactly as I remember: the photos of his mother on the mantle above the fireplace, the tick marks in the kitchen door way measuring the heights of the Kane siblings stopping abruptly when Daisy turned five, and a dark smudge on the wall leading up the stairs where Denver shot a hockey puck and missed the net.
My fingers toy with my necklace, too many memories swelling in my throat. Too many moments I'd forgotten rushing back in.
Other things, like the couch and the quiet, are foreign to me. The Kane home was always a rough and rumbly concoction of noise, laughter, and swear words. Of forgotten Barbie dolls and The Babysitter's Club books dispersed throughout. Things that didn't fit together yet somehow did.
"Hey." Jax nudges me with his shoulder as I stand, frozen, in the center of the living room, taking it all in. His home even smells the same. The usual scent of laundry detergent, a faint reminder of eggs that Denver probably scrambled for breakfast, and something that is purely male. A spiciness that I imagine only lifts when Daisy is home.
"Hmm?"
"Want something to drink?"
"A water would be great." I follow Jax into the kitchen, my eyes catching on the familiar gingham curtains that hang over the window. They're worse for wear now, but I know the boys would never take them down. The kitchen is decorated exactly as their mom left it. Frills and cookie jars and delicate dishtowels.
I take a seat at the old butcher-block island and accept the glass Jax hands me with a smile. Taking a sip, the cool water relieves some of the pressure building in my throat and behind my eyes. I have a sudden urge to cry, although I'm not sure why. It's like I've been bombarded with so much of my old life I'd completely forgotten about. I'm not sure if I'm sad I'd forgotten or because it's not mine anymore, but regardless the remembering aches.
Jax’s home, the complete ease and familiarity between us at Raf’s, the normalcy of grabbing a bite and then hanging at his place is suddenly too much.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. It's just strange being back here."
"Tell me about it." Jax stands across from me on the island, hunching forward, his forearms resting on the butcher block, so we're eye level.
"It's still so much the same."
"I know. I didn't know what to expect when I came back, but in a way, I'm happy Carter and Daisy didn't change things up."
"Yeah. It's comforting."
"Sometimes." Something I can’t place flares in his eyes.
"What?"
"I like seeing you here. Back in my home. In my space."
"Your space?" I snort, my fingertips tracing the rim of my glass, nervous bubbles popping in my stomach. Does that mean this is going to be a regular thing again? Are we moving into dating mode? Could I move into dating mode?
"Yeah. Even stranger than coming back here was not having you in my life anymore."
My inhale stutters. Literally, I gasp for air as if the supply has suddenly been cut off.
"You okay?" Jax comes around the island, his hand wrapping around my shoulder.
I nod, pointing to the glass of water and smiling weakly.
"I caught you by surprise?"
I nod again, working a swallow and steadying my breathing.
He presses a kiss against my cheek so quickly, I'm stunned into thinking I imagined it.
"Well, it's the truth," Jax continues, retreating to his side of the island now that I'm breathing like a normal person again.
"For me, too," I admit. "I've just had a lot more time to accept you being gone."
His brow furrows as he leans closer to me again. "What do you mean?"
"It's easier being the person to leave. You're doing something new, something exciting, starting a new adventure with none of the usual reminders of the past. You got to go. But for me, staying, it really sucked."
Jax drops his gaze to the counter before meeting my eyes again. Pain and frustration and maybe even a little regret churn wildly.
/> "The first few days after you left, everywhere I went, everything I saw, every single thing in my house, somehow had a memory associated with you. We knew all the same people, hung out at all the usual spots in town. There wasn't anywhere to go or anyone to hang out with that didn't know us as a couple and wanted to talk about what happened."
Sorrow breaks through the storm, coloring his eyes a green so deep I want to fall into them.
"I'm sorry, Evie. I never thought about that. I figured you’d be busy training over the summer and then leave in August for a whole new life at West Point.”
"I know."
"I never thought you'd stay. I mean, why would you?" He pins me with a look so intense, I brace myself for the question that's hanging on the tip of his tongue, ready to burst forth and change everything between us. "I know you're not ready to tell me yet. But one day, Evie, one day I'm going to know why you let West Point go."
The relief seeping from my lips is obvious, blatant. He glances away as a flash of pain twists his expression. He thinks I don't trust him.
I hang onto the water glass again, letting the sounds of our mingled breaths wash over me.
I do trust him. The issue is me. I don't trust myself. Because if I tell him the truth and he looks at me differently, I'll break all over again. I'll never heal. And I'll never be able to forgive myself for that.
I’m finally moving forward. I’m going out more, I’m kind of dating, I’ve been kissed without having a panic attack, and new career opportunities are opening up for me. I can’t do anything to mess up all my progress. I won’t.
The sound of the front door swinging open causes me to jump in my seat. Jax's eyes slide to the living room as he cranes his neck to hear who is home.
"It's Denver," he explains, although I have no clue how he ascertained that information from the sound of a door closing and heavy footsteps growing closer to the kitchen.
Moments later Denver's frame pushes through the swinging door. His dark hair is pulled into a man bun on the back of his head, and a light beard shadows his jaw. He's wearing a white T-shirt, the vivid ink scrawling down his arms popping in contrast.
"Yo," he greets us, flipping his chin at his brother and offering me a slight smile.
"What's going on?" Jax asks, ducking into the refrigerator and pulling out the Brita to pour Denver a glass of water.
"Not much." Denver accepts the glass and downs the contents in three large gulps. "Fuckin' exhausted."
"You look tired," I comment, taking in the purple smudges underneath his eyes. "You okay?"
Fine lines crinkle around the corners of his eyes as he smiles at me, for real smiles at me. "Shouldn't I be asking you that, Evie?"
Huh? Is he alluding to…? Panic seizes my bones, locking my body down as I stiffen. My shoulders practically touch my earlobes as I tense. My eyes fly everywhere, searching for something to latch on to.
Denver steps forward, cutting Jax off from my line of vision, from seeing my face. "I mean, you've spent, what, the last few hours hanging with Jax and haven't kneed him in the balls yet? I don't know how you stand him," he jokes, clarifying his intent.
I manage the dread that races through my veins.
His eyes are kind as they meet mine, holding my gaze steady.
I focus on my breathing. Inhale. Exhale.
"You're a lucky motherfucker," he addresses his brother, spinning so his back is to me but still blocking me from Jax. "Managing to talk Evie into having a bite with you. Heard y'all were at Raf's?"
"This town is too damn small," Jax says, but his voice is tight and I know he didn't miss the exchange between Denver and me. But I also know he won't call me out on it. Not right at this moment. As long as Denver is here, I'm safe from Jax's burning questions.
Denver must assume the same thing because he starts talking to Jax about a few cars he's looking at and wants to pick up and work on. Jax asks a string of questions, and I use the time to recover. My breathing still erratic, I go through a series of exercises I learned years ago but don't use much anymore. Still, I'm grateful as my heartbeat slows, my skin cools, and my mind clears.
I'm thankful that when Denver rounds the island to grab a plate from a cupboard and Jax turns to face me, I look normal again.
21
Jax
Something happened. Something strange. So fucking weird that I almost feel like I imagined the entire thing, but none of it makes any goddamn sense. I know what I saw. I know what I heard. Denver made a joke and Evie froze, a look of pure terror crossing her face and causing her to nearly hyperventilate. And then, the thing that really sticks out is Denver shielded her from my view so naturally, as if he wasn't even covering for her. As if he wasn’t handing her a way out from having to be honest with me.
It's obvious that Carter and Denver know things about Evie that she's keeping from me. That they’re keeping from me. As time passes, I’m starting to put pieces together but some of those pieces are so dark and twisted, I can’t even stomach the trail they lead me down. And I don’t want to jump to conclusions. Not about this.
I definitely think Evie has been hurt. My guess is a past relationship and she got burned by the guy. Not just a usual breakup, but something more sinister. The thought of someone hurting her causes red hot rage to boil in my veins, and makes me want to track the guy down and beat him senseless. The thought of her with someone else is its own type of torture. Maybe I don’t have the right to feel that way, but I do. I don’t want Evie with any man but me.
It sucks because I know if I flat-out ask her, she’ll pull back. I know I need to tread lightly with her, take things slowly, but the not knowing is killing me. What’s bothering me even more is I can’t connect the dots between Evie, Carter, and Denver. The entire situation is starting to get to me. In fact the more I think about it, the more my concern for Evie blisters into anger toward my brothers.
"Jax?" Evie's voice breaks me from the path my thoughts have turned down.
"Hmm?" I look at her, taking in her appearance. The terror from earlier is gone, her skin smooth, and her eyes are clear once more. Her posture is casual, and she looks completely unaffected. In fact, she almost looks... bored. But I know Evie. And I know that something spooked the hell out of her.
"Is Denver thinking of starting a business or something?"
"Oh, yeah." I clear my throat, "Denver wants to open an auto body shop. Do repairs, rebuilds, that sort of thing."
"That'd be cool. Denver would be great at that. I can totally see him doing it."
"Hey. Don't forget about your boy here." I hate that I sound affronted but... I am. I can fix cars and trucks and pretty much anything almost as well as Den.
"You're going to do it with him?" Her eyes widen, almost in disbelief.
"Mm-hmm. Why? You think I can't keep up?" I joke.
"What about the Army?"
"What about it?"
"You’re active."
"Yeah, but only for another few months. Then what?"
"You're not re-upping?"
"Re-upping?" I shake my head, looking at her through narrowed eyes. "No, I'm not re-upping."
She stares at me with incredulity coloring her cheeks. Her eyes widen and her mouth gapes. "Why not?"
"Why not?" I repeat, trying to figure out her line of thinking. My back stiffens, and I know whatever words I say will sound defensive. Because I am defensive as hell. I served three tours and got shot up during the last one. And Ethan died. Ethan died, and I couldn't save him.
The silence stretches between us as she waits for me to answer. Her back is rigid again, her arms crossed over her chest defensively.
"Evie, I served. I did three tours. Missed two weeks of my last tour after my shoulder shit, but I served my country, the military, and the Army."
"I know that."
"Okay."
"But now, what? You're just done?"
"My contract's almost up," I say slowly, as if I'm explaining this to someone whose mother is no
t a freaking general.
"But your squad, your guys, everything you told me. You said you kept re-upping because you didn't want to leave your guys behind. Because you were all in this together."
"That was before. Things are different now. Most of them would make the same choice as me. Hell, most of them will probably be done when their contracts run out this time too." I tug the back of my neck.
"But you said—"
"I know what I said," I snap at her, my words sharp as bullets. "I said I kept going back because we had a good thing going, and none of us wanted to mess with it."
She sits completely still, as if scared to breathe too loudly. Finally, she nods.
"Ethan is dead, Evie."
She winces, avoiding my eyes.
"So we clearly don't have a good fucking thing going anymore, now do we?" I throw my arms wide, tension and anger reverberating off me in waves.
"Jax."
I step toward her, placing my hand on top of hers on the island. She flinches, and I hold her fingers tighter. I work to lower my voice, to fight against the fury pulsing in my veins at the thought of Ethan gone, of Amy losing her husband, of Annabelle never meeting her father. "Evie, not everyone is on the career track. It's time for me to come home, to stay here, to, I don't know, start something for myself."
"A car shop?" she questions, her tone cold and her voice empty.
I take a step back, pulling my hand away from hers. "Is that not good enough for you?" The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them and I don't care. Where the hell does she get off judging me on this?
"What?" Her eyes flash, a spark of the old Evie resurfacing. I'm so relieved to see her that I don't even care it's me pissing her off. "Of course not! I just, I get that you're hurting, Jax. I know Ethan's death has devastated you, but I still don't understand how you can leave the rest of your guys, your squad, behind like that. Like they don't need you. You're just giving up!"
Ethan's face flashes through my mind, his prankster grin, his easy-going manner. The gurgle in his breathing as he tried to suck in more oxygen assaults my ears. The heat and the sounds and the smells. The uncertainty and the loneliness and the fear. The adrenaline. Shadows of moments and glimpses of memories I tried to bury come bubbling forward. Giving up? I gave nearly all of my self. For seven fucking years.