Mia closes her eyes and rakes her hands through her long, blonde hair. “Why, Declan? Do you feel better now? Was it flipping worth it?” This poor chick. She has to be embarrassed by her husband’s duplicity. From what I knew back then, he wasn’t a terrible guy, and for Mia to choose him over everything I offered—there must be something special about him, right? But this confession paints him in a light I never pictured. Jealous? Yes. Predatory when it comes to his family? Sure thing. A guy willing to do anything to keep what he almost lost? Uh huh. But this? This is a whole new level of what the fuck!
“You’re not fucking serious,” I snort. “You? It was you who recommended me for that project? You’re the one who raved and raved about the East Coast contracting wonder who needed to be on that job?” I still recollect the phone call. The flattering persuasion from the foreman, the glowing praise for all of my accomplishments. I should be happy. The Habitat staff spoke so highly of me based on my credentials, I should thank Declan for speaking of me with such high regard. But I’m not—not yet. The clouds need to clear before I see this as anything other than a coward scared of losing.
“You bet your wife-stealing ass I did.”
“Oh my God!” Willow bellows, and tears spring from her eyes. I can’t tend to her feelings right now because mine are all over the goddamn place. I’m occupied making sense of what this asshole just confessed.
“Wow! And you knew about this?” I dart my attention to Mia. How could she have known and not said anything? Whether the same result would have materialized in the end, this is some serious shit that changes everything.
“I knew,” she admits. “Afterwards. Once you were already gone. But that doesn’t matter, Noah. You have to know that.” Her eyes gravitate to the ground, her grip around her son slackens as her fingers get fidgety. “This is how it was meant to be. It was always Declan. What happened with us—”
“Don’t even go there,” I interrupt. Husband, girlfriend, kids, whatever witnesses there are to this, I will not let her cheapen what we had. It was real. It was love. There’s no denying that. “I don’t regret that it ended, Mia. I’m fine with how things turned out. You’re happy. I’m happy, life is fucking ducky, but it was all by default.” Her eyes widen, but I don’t stop. This needs to be said. I’m getting it all out so I can move the fuck on and pretend the Murphys don’t exist. “You’re okay with that? You’re okay with knowing he made that decision for you? If he hadn’t made that phone call I’d still be here, Mia! If I hadn’t asked you to move away with me, maybe you would have let things happen more gradually. No matter what he tells you, we were in love. We had a chance and even though that’s over now, it has to cross your mind and eat at your marrow that he made up your mind. Not you.”
“That’s e-fucking-nough!” Declan shouts. “I decked you once, I won’t mind doing it again.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, asshole. It was me who laid you out. I broke that pretty boy nose of yours too.” I point to the crooked bridge and a smile tugs at my lips as I remember how good it felt to connect with his face. I felt bad about it afterwards. Not now.
“Is that what you two want? Another pissing match?” Mia gets between us, her hands on Declan’s chest. “Noah,” she speaks to me over her shoulder. “You should go. This is ridiculous. Both of you are acting like children, and I already have three of them to tend to. I’m sorry for everything. I hate that it had to turn into this mess, but—”
“No need to apologize, doll. I get it and I’ll be the better man—again. If it’s any consolation,” I address a seething Declan again, “thank you. Even if she didn’t get to choose on her own, it ended up best for all of us.” I turn to collect Willow, to hug her tight, get the hell outta here and apologize for the inconceivable. She shouldn’t have had to witness this, not with all the shit she’s been feeling lately.
But when I look to my left—where she last was—she’s nowhere to be found. My eyes roam the gym in search of her, but they come up empty. “Willow?” I call, and leave Mia and Declan to their perfect little life to rediscover mine.
I comb the entire school for thirty minutes. When she doesn’t turn up in the bathroom, the hallway, the classrooms, or the cafeteria, panic sets in. I hit redial over and over again, but her phone only rings once and then goes to voicemail.
This day was not supposed to turn out like this. I said goodbye to one woman for good in the hopes of ridding myself of unfinished heartache. I never imagined this unexpected reunion would turn into a separation I know I won’t survive.
Goodbye.
The word can be said so many ways, in so many different languages. Sayonara, adios, ciao, farewell, tudaloo.
But I chose not to say it all.
Instead, I jetted outta there like my ass was on fire and went screaming for the hills, without looking back. Only thing is—it’s not my ass that’s up in flames. It’s my heart, and the only way to extinguish this horrible pain is to run the fuck away from what’s causing it.
“Rapid Drivers, what’s your pick up?” Thank God for cell phones and Google and high speed internet not being down in this location. I dialed the first car service from my search as soon as my lungs exhaled. The air trapped inside that stuffy gymnasium was full of Noah’s musty old memories.
“Westmont High School,” I answer as I stride further from the school as if it’s a haunted building whose demons are chasing me.
“And what’s your destination.” The thick-accented man is direct and impersonal. He’s clearly unable to sense how important this escape is to my well-being.
“The airport. Um—I think it’s Newark. Or—”
“Sweetheart, flights are still grounded at Newark. Where are you headed?”
“Home. San Diego.” Where I belong.
“I’m gonna suggest the airport in Philly. It’s a hike and it’s gonna cost you a hefty penny, but if you’re flying, that’s the only way.”
“Um—” I mentally list through all the things I should’ve thought about before I made this hasty phone call. My luggage is back at Noah’s parents’, but whatever, it’s only clothes. I have my purse, my makeup, my wallet . . .”You know what? That’s fine. Just hurry please. I need to catch a flight.”
“You got it, doll. I’m dispatching now. Your driver should be there in five.”
“Thank you.” I sigh and hang up. That stranger has no idea how significant he was during such a moment of desperation. I need to be away from here. I can’t spend one more second trying to convince myself that I fit into Noah’s world.
I collided with his past today and it was ugly. It was a reminder of all he could have had, why he ran away, and what I’ll never be able to give him. I’m certain he knows Mia’s not the one for him anymore—her husband made that pretty clear, even if there was any inkling of doubt—but I’ve never been more confident about one thing in my entire life.
I am not enough for him, and I have to stop pretending I am.
Ask me how I survived the last twelve hours?
Honestly, I don’t know. The first class mini-bar probably had a lot to do with it, considering I’m about to hobble off the plane like a pathetic partied-too-hard bachelorette. If only that were the case.
I had no choice but to . . . inebibe, nope. Inebiberate, or is it imbi—? Forget it!—put alcohol in my mouth just to get the voices out of my head. I tried the inflight movie, but it was some cheesy romance that made me cry instead of laugh. Reading became my next resort, but my brain couldn’t focus. The words on the Kindle screen were drowned out by Noah’s words, reverberating over and over again like some sick, twisted record on repeat being played just to torture me and remind me that I’m a poor man’s Mia.
I don’t regret that it ended, Mia. I’m fine with how things turned out. You’re happy. I’m happy, life is fucking ducky, but it was all by default.
Default.
Those words crippled me. Ripped my insides to shreds, rattled my core, shattered my mending heart right ba
ck into shards of hopelessness. I don’t know how he didn’t hear me gasp in horror. Maybe because he was too preoccupied with pissing off Mia’s husband and making it clear what his meaning of default was.
It meant he had regrets. It meant he wanted Mia to have regrets. It meant he didn’t give a shit that I was sitting right next to him, listening to him and the love of his life—the one who got away and scarred him for every other woman, for me—argue about why they were no longer together. It also meant that all those things he told me about being enough and loving me the way I am was a big, fat, fucking lie.
“Ms.?” a stewardess taps me on the shoulder, and breaks me out of my pathetic recollection of events. “The rest of the passengers have emptied the aircraft. Do you have any carry-ons you need help with?”
Oh, honey, I have baggage, all right. Just none you can help me with. “Oh, no. I’m sorry. I must have dozed off again. Wonderful flight, but I guess it’s time to face the music.” I try my best at polite and friendly, and curb the slurred words that are at the tip of my vodka soaked tongue.
She offers a hand to help me out of the seat. I take it while tears prick the back of my eyes and throat from her small act of kindness.
“Thank you,” I choke out, unwilling to leave the confines of this vessel and go out into the ugly world alone again.
She ushers me between the rows of seats and out the door, and I make my way down the jet bridge. I contemplate calling Sloane to pick me up so I can cry it out and get that all over with. In the end I ignore the missed calls and texts from Noah, fight the urge to answer him or reach out to my friend, and simply call another cab. This has been the most draining day of my entire existence. As I bury my cell phone deep in my purse, I mentally prepare myself for my Noah-less life with tears streaming down my face in the airport terminal.
Reality hits as soon as I wake the next morning. Things are pounding and hurting—and I’m not just talking about my hangover headache or my broken heart. I’m a wreck. I want to call in sick—forever. Just call it quits on this game we call life. I’m done. I’m over it. Just give me a nice memorial and scatter my lonely ashes somewhere. I have nothing left to give.
“Willow Jones, you open this motherfucking door before I kick it down!” Sloane’s voice sounds like a weak whisper from up here in my bedroom. But the fact I can hear her at all means she must be screaming on the top of her lungs—for my neighbors to hear.
“Fuck me!” I groan, throw the duvet off and charge out of my room, down the steps, and straight for the front door. “Jesus, Sloane!”
“Don’t you Jesus me! You have everyone worried out of their minds!” She pushes past me, stubs my toe with the weight of the door, and causes me to curse under my breath.
She doesn’t notice my disheveled state or that I’m already on the verge of crying and continues her tirade. “This is some stunt you pulled! Noah’s on the first flight out—tonight. Red eye. You have to call him. He’s so worried it’s—it’s cruel!”
I shove past her to the stairs and take them two at a time with Sloane right behind me. “Nice to know you’re on his side without even hearing what your best friend has to say about it!”
“Don’t you dare run from me! This isn’t a game. Talk to me. You can’t hide away in your room for the rest of your life like a child.”
“I’m not running away. I have to go to the office and get the rest of my stuff. Then I’m running away.”
“What? What the hell are you talking about? Are you deranged?” Sloane spins me around to face her, which hinders me from getting dressed.
“Yes. I’m fucking deranged and I’m done feeling this way. You said he’s coming home tonight. Well, I won’t be here. No trace. Gone. The way it should be. And as my friend, you’ll let me do this and either help me or get the fuck out of my way.”
I dial her phone again—for like the thirty-third time—with no response. I’ve already checked with Mom and Dad to see if she went back to their house, but she never turned up there and I’ve got them on the lookout. I pace the grounds of the school and make the decision to call Sloane. She’s miles away, but if Willow was going to flee, Sloane’s the one person who might know to where.
I check my watch to make sure it’s not some ungodly hour out west, then punch in her number with nervous fingers. It takes a few rings for her to pick up and when she does her voice sounds normal—no evidence of harboring a fugitive or anything like that.
“Hey, Sloane. It’s Noah. Have you spoken to Willow at all?”
“Not since yesterday. Through text. Why? Is everything okay?”
“She’s . . . missing.” I realize that has to sound horrible. “Before you freak, just hear me out.” I explain everything to her, with a detailed recap of what went down, how, when and all the ugly I’m so ashamed to actually admit.
“Shit, Noah! Where could she be? Do you think she’s on her way home? Let me call her from the house phone. Hang on, don’t go anywhere.” I wait on the assumption she has my call to one ear and the landline to her other.
“Voicemail. Crap! I can’t believe this. It’s not like her to travel alone. She had to be desperate, you know that, right?”
“Do you really need to remind me, Sloane? I know what she saw, what she heard. It wasn’t pretty, and there was so much I was planning to say to her had she not left. But when I turned around—she was fucking gone! It’s been about an hour since I last saw her.”
“An hour? What were you doing for a whole fucking hour?”
Her tone reminds me what a failure I am. Willow was along for the ride as my guest, I’m supposed to protect her—from everything. And now she’s missing and it’s all my fault. My defense mode kicks in and I lose my cool. “I was searching for her! I didn’t realize she’d leave—like actually up and fucking leave. I thought maybe she went to get some fresh air, cool off in the bathroom, take a walk, just get away from the whole shit storm, but I didn’t think she’d actually leave me. She didn’t give me a chance to explain. I have to find her, Sloane! You have to help me!” I’ve never felt so desperate in my life. Those tears I’ve never ever had the balls to shed burn my eyes as a reminder of everything at stake to lose. “Help me find her, Sloane. I can’t lose her. She needs to know how much I love her. No one else. Just her.”
“Ugh!” she groans in frustration. “I want to kill you and hug you at the same time, but of course I’ll help you. I know what’s going through her head—you do too, right?”
I’m a whacked out mess of emotions, but of course I know. This has everything to do with the kid situation. She doesn’t think she’s enough for me, and seeing the Murphy family clusterfuck of the century was the nail in the coffin. “I know. You don’t have to say it, though, because it’s not true. I’m not Kurt! I love her—for her. I don’t give a shit if it’s just the two of us stranded on an island for all of eternity. She’s all I’ll ever need.”
“You need to tell this to Willow, Noah. There’s no use pouring it all out to me. She’s the one who needs to feel every word you just said.”
I know this—the truth behind it runs deeper than my bones. “Then let’s find her so I can.”
When I hang up with Sloane, a tiny ounce of hope sparks within and drives me to move when all I want to do is crumble to pieces with the biggest part of me missing. But I dash through, faster than a man on a mission to save the world. My eye’s on the end game, the prize, the gold at the end of this fucked up rainbow. I’m coming for you, Willow, and I’m gonna make you mine forever.
“You’ll call us as soon as you land, right?”
“Of course, Mom.”
“You have all your luggage? Willow’s too?”
“Yes, Dad. All accounted for.”
“You sure you don’t want us to come with you?”
“No, Mom. I’m a big boy, I can do this on my own.”
“Your flight doesn’t leave for another—why don’t we go grab a bite, keep you occupied for a while.”
; That’s it! “No, guys! Just stop!” I realize I have no reason to snap at the two people who love me most, but I can’t take the coddling anymore. There are enough voices in my head right now, I can’t listen to theirs too. “I’m sorry.” I take a step back and appraise the hurt in my mother’s eyes. “I know you mean well, but I need to be alone. I thought we’d have more time. I hate to leave so abruptly, but I can’t just let her go. I have to get to her. You understand, right?”
My mother covers her face with her hands, sobbing into them. My father cups his palm roughly on the back of my neck, pulling me in for a bear hug. “I love you, son. Of course we understand. We just worry for you. You’re all we’ve got and when you hurt, we hurt. Got it?”
I never understood that—something he would tell me all the time while I was growing up—until Willow came into my life. Her hurt is my hurt. I’m in agony not being able to comfort her, and I could almost suffocate from the idea of never being able to right this. But I’m one step closer . . . even if I won’t board a plane for another five hours.
“I got it, Dad. Thank you. I promise to call you as soon as I land, and let you know when I find her.”
“You will, Noah. I feel it in my gut. She loves you too much to walk away.”
That’s where he’s wrong. Willow loves me so much she’s willing to let me go so I can have all the things she thinks I want. “Let’s hope so.” Unable to express my deepest, darkest fear to my parents, I say my farewells and usher them off.
When I’m alone with my thoughts, I feel like a madman, warring with the reminder of harsh spoken words and things left unsaid. Why couldn’t I just keep my cool and let the past be the past? Why did I say the things I said in front of Willow? My anger got the best of me and Declan brought out the worst in me. Because of that—I might have lost the only person who’s ever loved me the way I always dreamed to be loved.
After the Storm Page 21