Made to Love

by Medina, Heidi

  The next morning, Brooke tearfully helped me pack up most of my clothes and main essentials. I’d folded up the shirt, and had asked Brooke to make sure it was returned to him. Helen had gotten us a flight out that evening. I’d met Bailey for coffee at Cup of Joe’s, giving me a chance to say my goodbyes to both him and Gabby in one stop. I’d hesitated meeting with Bailey, not wanting to get into a big discussion about Elite and what had happened, but relented when I figured he already knew anyway and it was no reason to avoid seeing someone who had been a friend to me in my short time there. He’d thankfully—and surprisingly—left the subject alone and instead had made me promise to ‘go forth and be amazing at wherever life led me’.

  And then Jacob and Brooke had seen us off at the airport. There had been no sign of Nathan, and my disobedient heart ached inside my chest. But, it had been for the best. As angry and hurt I’d been with him, it had taken every ounce of strength I’d possessed to send him away at the hospital, and I feared I didn’t have any strength left to send him away a second time.

  I’d been back in Austin for two weeks now, and hadn’t shed a single tear since my complete meltdown the day I was discharged. I found myself moving on autopilot; I was here, and yet I wasn’t. I’d fallen into a routine of sleeping while Helen was at work, and tossing and turning, reading through all my saved texts from Nathan, during the night. I should just delete them all, but like a train wreck I couldn’t look away from, I read through them every single night, tormenting myself with what was, and had been lost. I had yet to return any of Brooke’s texts or voicemails, and had only responded to Jacob once, letting him know I was home and doing okay. Helen worried I was sinking into depression and had made an appointment with Dr. Rowland, which I had in turn cancelled. What could he possibly tell me that I didn’t already know?

  I’d just showered and changed into my standard suffering-from-a-broken-heart attire of sweatpants and a tank, when I heard Helen call for me.

  I headed into the living room and found her at the door with a UPS man. She looked at me warily as I approached. “Your stuff’s here,” was all she said.

  The UPS driver handed me a clipboard and I hastily signed my name. “My guy and I will start bringing it in, if that’s okay.”

  I nodded and stood out on the porch as I watched the two deliverymen open the back of their truck. It was official. I now had nothing of my own back in New York.

  Except my heart.

  I became distracted as a black Chrysler pulled up in front of the house. I looked at Helen, who shrugged, and we both shielded our eyes from the sun as the driver’s door opened.

  My eyes widened. “Jacob? What are you doing here?”

  My brother pushed his sunglasses up on his head, and rested his arms on the roof of the car as he looked at us. “Coming to see you,” he offered as he slammed his door shut and walked across the lawn. “Sorry I didn’t give you a heads up. But somebody doesn’t answer their phone so I figured you wouldn’t get it anyway.” He grinned up at me, looking anything but sorry.

  Helen’s face was unreadable, but her southern hospitality kicked in. “What a surprise, Jacob. I’m. . . I’m sure Reagan would love to spend some time with you, won’t you, Reagan?”

  I didn’t answer as I continued watching the deliverymen unload boxes and stack them on the drive, discussing how best to get it all in, and what should be carried in first. Jacob followed my gaze and then turned back to me with a raised brow. “What’s this?”

  “My stuff,” was all I responded with. I moved past Helen and walked down to the truck. I heard Helen softly speak aside to Jacob, letting him know my things from New York had been delivered. I stood with my hands on my hips, watching as the pieces of my life in New York were unloaded and set on the concrete. I barely registered Jacob when he appeared at my side, offering his assistance.

  They looked to me for my lead and I picked up a box and headed inside, directing them where to put everything. Several trips later, and the men prepared to leave. One of them handed me a small box, taped shut, a shipping label complete with my name and address on the front. “This is for you. Signature receipt so I’ll need a separate signature for it.”

  I took the box, signed for it, and Helen showed the men to the door. She returned and stood with Jacob in the kitchen and watched me expectantly.

  “What is it?”

  “If it’s just more of your stuff, then why wasn’t it packed away like the rest?”

  I ignored their questions as I stared at the sender’s name on the shipping label. I knew Nathan was responsible for having my things packed and delivered, but whatever was in this box, he wanted me to see it right away. There was a reason it was packed separately. I wordlessly dug a knife out of the drawer and sliced through the packing tape and opened it.

  There nestled inside was the confiscated t-shirt, with a note on top, scrawled in handwriting I instantly recognized:

  It was never just on loan. It’s yours to keep. It will always be yours. N

  I pulled the shirt out and over my head, tugging it down around my torso, as a dam burst behind my eyes and tears fell faster than I could wipe them away. I looked helplessly at Helen. “I forgot my shirt,” I bawled. She simply nodded, as her eyes misted over with tears of her own, and Jacob stared down at the note and then back at me.

  “I’m glad you got it back then,” Helen replied, wiping her eyes.

  I closed my eyes and stood there, as tears dripped off my chin to wet Nathan’s shirt. It’s yours to keep. It was mine. He wanted me to see it, to have this right away. It will always be yours. He wasn’t just talking about the shirt. He was telling me what I wouldn’t let him say back in the hospital.

  He loved me. And I had his heart. It will always be yours.

  I’d been so angry at the hospital. Hurt and betrayal had been my only motivators, and I hadn’t wanted to hear his declarations of love or whatever he was feeling. I’d seen them as a desperate attempt to keep me there, and I had wanted nothing more than to put as much distance between us as possible.

  Here, two weeks later, he was trying to tell me again. And while I was still hurt, I was no longer so angry. And I had no idea what I was going to do.

  I opened my eyes and wiped them. Jacob was sitting at the table, and Helen was going about making lunch, both of them doing their best to ignore the weeping weirdo in their midst.

  “Nice shirt.” Jacob pulled out a chair for me and motioned for me to sit. “I think I have one just like it.”

  I sat, and looked down at the threadbare gray t-shirt, the emblazoned “Columbia University” faded across the front. “It’s not mine.”

  Jacob rolled his eyes at the obvious. “Yeah, well, I think he just gave it to you.”

  Helen placed turkey deli sandwich fixings on the table, and poured us each a glass of sweet tea, breaking the somber mood. “How long will you be in town, Jacob?” she questioned, effectively changing the subject.

  “I have a flight back to New York on Monday morning, so I figured I’d spend a few days with this one,” he answered, nudging my arm with his elbow.

  “You are, of course, welcome to stay here. I can have the guest room made up.”

  Jacob wouldn’t hear of it. “That’s okay. I got a hotel and rental, so I’m good. I just wanted to check in, see how things were going.”

  Check in on me, is what he really meant. We ate, making awkward small talk, until Helen shooed us out the door, giving us some needed alone time. It probably went against her grain to give us the space, and she’d probably be on pins and needles until we returned, but despite her desire to keep me away from anything that would overly upset me, she seemed to realize that I needed this. Jacob and I both needed this.

  “Where to?” We piled into Jacob’s rental car and he slid on his sunglasses and looked at me.

  “Just drive.”

  He pulled out of our subdivision and made his way downtown. We’d lived several miles outside of the city limits, in a small
, broken community of has-beens and used-to-be’s. We’d never had cause to venture into the city, but Jacob surprisingly seemed to know his way around as he zipped in and out of traffic. We talked about how his practice was doing (Brooke was adjusting to slower-paced office life exceptionally well), the latest antics of the nephew I had yet to meet, and how I liked being back in Austin (I didn’t). We talked about anything that kept us away from the one subject we were both dying to discuss: Nathan.

  We’d been on the road for a good half hour when I realized we were heading outside the city limits. “Where are we going?”

  Jacob shrugged. “You’ll see. Just sit back and enjoy the ride, okay?”

  I frowned at his attempt to be mysterious, but instead of pressing him for details, I leaned my head back against the seat and closed my eyes. Sometime later, I felt the car roll to a stop and opened my eyes, realizing I had at some point fallen asleep.

  I rubbed my eyes and looked around, my heart shuddering to a halt as I took in the vacant, rambling house twenty feet ahead of where we sat. Any windows left were broken and jagged, staring back at us like giant teeth guarding any memories of the atrocities that had taken place within. The paint had always been peeling, but now seemed to be gone completely, only a few strips here and there as the remaining proof the house had ever been anything more than the dull, lifeless gray it was now. Most of the roof shingles were gone, debris scattered the clumps of brown, dead grass on the front lawn, and I didn’t even want to imagine what kind of creatures—both the two-legged and four-legged variety—had taken up residence once we’d vacated.

  My breathing became ragged as a distant ringing began in my ears. I turned to Jacob. “Why?” I breathed, unable to manage anything else.

  He touched my arm. “Shhhhhhh. It’s okay. It’s just an empty house. No one here can hurt us anymore, Reagan. Just breathe. . .that’s it. Slow and steady.”

  I swallowed once. . .twice and then looked back at our childhood home. “What are we doing here, Jacob?”

  He sighed. “Because you aren’t the only one dealing with. . .things. I’ve been back in this area six times in the last ten years but I could never bring myself to come all the way out here. And I’m tired, Reagan. So we’re here because I need to be. And I think you do, too.”

  I didn’t give myself time to think. I threw open the passenger door, got out and walked to the front of the car. “Come on, then,” I said, holding out my hand.

  Jacob exited the car and came around to meet me. We locked hands and stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the place where it all began. “Let’s do this.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Nathan

  I pulled myself up out of the pool and fell into a deck chair, more exhausted and drained than I had ever been in my life.

  It had been two weeks since Reagan had left.

  Two weeks of missing her, dreaming about her, agonizing over the things I’d done wrong in our short time together, and all the things I should have told her before she left. Two weeks of mushy texts, full of feelings and apologies, that were never sent.

  Two weeks of zero contact with her, not knowing how she was, or if she was okay.

  I had walked in on a random meeting of my father’s the day after she’d left, and demanded to know what the hell he’d been trying to accomplish by telling her everything. He’d dismissed the meeting attendees with a smirk, and then admitted he had received notice of my intent to resign from Elite. That news came after he’d already heard about my buying out Winston Suites. And if I thought I was going to get out that easily, I was mistaken. He’d neither denied or made apologies for using Reagan to get back at me.

  The thing about Roger Preston is that he liked control; he prided himself on it. And I was quickly becoming someone he could no longer exert control over, and he didn’t like it. And if he thought his telling Reagan, and thereby destroying any chance of happiness I may have had with her, was going to make me fall back into line, he was sorely mistaken. That ship had sailed.

  I still had a few loose ends at the office to see complete, but discovered that being there reminded me of her. The elevator where we’d first met, the stolen kisses in my office, the closed door of hers a blatant reminder she was no longer sitting behind it. It was too much.

  I’d had all my work brought home and had attempted to finish things up from my apartment. It was even worse. All I could focus on was the guest room where she’d slept that night after our meeting with Robert & Royce Johnson, the dining room table I’d fucked her senseless on, the pillow on the other side of my bed that still smelled faintly like her shampoo, the smiley-face sticky note she’d slapped on my bathroom mirror one morning on her way out, or the pink toothbrush still standing in the holder next to mine. There wasn’t a room in my place that didn’t have a memory of her tied to it.

  I’d arranged for her things, including my shirt, to be packed—there was no way I could be there and participate in it myself—and shipped, and promptly took up residence in the Hamptons. But even there wasn’t exempt. Our first kiss had taken place in this house. But I was running out of places to go, and so I had spent the last three days between my room here and the pool, wallowing in my own self-pity. Jake had called, but the only thing I was interested in was information on Reagan and he didn’t have any either. He hadn’t called again. Even my mother had grown weary of her adult son sulking about like a depressed, lovesick teen and had taken off earlier this afternoon to ‘get out for a bit’.

  If these last two weeks were any indication on what a lifetime without Reagan would be, I had no idea how I was going to survive it.

  I was pulled from my brooding thoughts by the ringing of my cell. “Yes,” I mumbled, upon answering.

  “Nathan, I have wonderful news. Whitney Bradshaw is arriving in town this evening and I think it’s the perfect opportunity for you to get over this funk you’ve found yourself in and back into the swing of things.”

  I stared unseeing at the pool before me, astounded that my mother deemed my current state as nothing more than a ‘funk’. As if I could just snap my fingers and all would be well with the world again. Nothing was right about my world at the moment, and the likes of Whitney Bradshaw certainly weren’t going to change that.

  “Mother, I have zero interest in Whitney Bradshaw.”

  She was silent for a moment. “Is this still about that girl? I didn’t even know you were interested in her. But she’s obviously gone now, Nathan. You can’t stay like this forever. Whitney is a wonderful gi—“

  “Whitney is a bitch, Mother. Stop trying to push us together. Please. It’s embarrassing.” I sighed at her sharp intake of breath. “Look, I’m in no state to be entertaining tonight, anyway. I have work to do.”

  I hung up with another word, fully aware I was being an ass. But seriously. Enough with the Whitney Bradshaw matchmaking.

  I’d have to soothe her hurt feelings later, but now I really should try to work. My last two accounts had successfully been transitioned to new project leads, so I was, in essence, no longer working for Elite, but I had numerous documents to review to become better acquainted with Winston Suites.

  Several hours later, I was back to my brooding spot by the pool, when again I was interrupted by my phone. Not recognizing the number, I slid the bar to answer.

  “Hello?”

  Reagan

  “I wonder why this place hasn’t been sold, or torn down by now.”

  Jacob peered at me from beneath heavy, wet lashes. We were both sitting on the ground behind the house, with our backs pressed up against the weathered, peeling wooden slats that covered it. “I think Naomi’s parents still own it, but I’m not sure.” His lips curled up at my expression, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “How do you think our electric was kept on? Her parents kicked her out, and they sure as hell didn’t want anything to do with her kids, but at least they made sure she had a roof over her head. Nice people, huh?” There was no disguising the contempt in his
voice when talking about our mother, and the people who birthed her; our grandparents. Grandparents I had never once met.

  He answered my next unspoken question. “Charlie relayed this information to me before he left. How he found out, I have no idea.”

  I sighed and leaned my head on his shoulder. We’d spent the last few hours unloading our hurt, anger and bitterness on this house. We’d circled it, peering in the broken windows, letting memories fall over us in a thunderstorm of emotion. I’d seen my old room, now housing only a ragged, dirty sheet in one corner and endless dust and debris, and had broken down in tears. Jacob had picked up a broken piece of wood and had struck the side of the house, letting his frustrations with the woman who would never hear them, out on the house she’d raised us in.

  I’d stared in shocked horror and silence, before I picked up my own board and joined him. Tears flowed, and questions that would forever go unanswered were screamed at the sky, as two broken people faced head on the demons that had haunted them. Each crack of wood echoed around us, and seemed to fuel our rage as our attack became more frenzied. I’d cried and screamed, for all the normal childhood memories that we’d never known, for Charlie, Alex, for the unfairness of it all, until my throat hurt and my voice was hoarse. There wasn’t anyone around to witness or overhear, the few neighbors we’d had growing up long gone. But we wouldn’t have cared anyway. We’d fallen into an emotionally exhausted heap behind the house, boards discarded and forgotten in the ground beside us.

  “I’m glad you brought me here, Jacob.” I wiped sweat and tears from my cheeks, and stared out at the sky, glowing blue and red as the sun began its descent. “But I don’t ever want to come here again. Promise me you won’t either. No more. It has to be over.”

  Jacob rested his cheek against my head. “I promise,” he whispered.

  We sat there, supported against each other, each lost in our own thoughts as we both did our best to lay these memories to rest. I hadn’t known I needed to do this, and would have never ventured here on my own, but I couldn’t deny the feeling of weightlessness I now felt. Was I completely over it? Could I let someone hug me. ..I mean really hug me? Was Jacob past the rage and bitterness he’d suppressed for so long? Could we both truly move on? I didn’t know.