Never Let Go

by C. M. Stunich

  “Drive safe,” Never says, and I can tell that this is only a break, that our conversation isn't over, not by a long shot. “And don't worry, we'll figure this out. I won't tell anyone about it until you're ready.” She pauses. “Except for maybe Ty. Definitely Ty. I can't seem to keep things from him if I try.” I notice the slight uptake in her mood at the mention of Ty McCabe, but I don't have time to comment on it.

  I've got to get the fuck out of here.

  “Zella!” Tobias is yelling as my heart picks up speed and threatens to break my ribcage in its frantic dance of betrayal and frustration. How could he do that to me? Throw me under the bus like that? Well, if he thinks he can come over here and gloat or worse, act like he's sorry, that he gives two shits about me and my life, he's got another thing coming.

  “Zella, wait! I need to talk to you!”

  “Gotta go,” I tell Never before she catches a snippet of Tobias' screeching voice. “Love you. Talk to you in a few hours.”

  I hang up the phone as I drop down into the driver's seat and slam the door, locking it and starting the engine before Tobias' feet even hit the cement of the parking lot. I glance over my shoulder for stray students and then peel out of that space, wheels screaming.

  I like how dramatic my car sounds as I zoom out of there, catching a glimpse of Tobias' panting red face in the rearview mirror. What I don't like, and try desperately to dash away with the sleeve of my sweater, are the tears that roll down my face, glimmering in the early afternoon sun like diamonds.

  6

  I spend the first few hours of the drive sobbing. I don't let my mind think about why, don't let it analyze my two year relationship with an abusive asshole. I really don't let it think about how I, also, was an abusive asshole during that time period. Tobias and I would take turns starting fights, hitting each other, throwing things, screaming insults. Even though he was bigger than me, I still managed to get some good hits in over the years. One time, I clocked him in the face with one of his own football trophies and chipped his front tooth. I'm not proud of that, but there it is.

  And the thing that I absolutely, one hundred percent refuse to allow my conscious or subconscious mind to delve into is why I put up with all that. Why I decided to go to college so far away, why I let Tobias sweep me off my feet, why I closed my eyes in the dark and thought of Noah when he was fucking me.

  After Never left, Noah Scott and I became good friends. We hung out together, watched movies, went to the lake. He even wrote me poems, bought me flowers on my birthday, and held me when I needed a shoulder to cry on. But he never made a move, not once, and when he graduated high school and decided to stay in town, I was devastated. Yeah, I was glad to have him around, but the very fact that he'd sacrifice his life plans, turn down all the prestigious universities fighting for him, to wait in our Podunk little crap hole of a town for Never to come back … that was when I knew. I knew he loved her more deeply than I could ever understand, and it made me angry, so fucking angry. Even if he acted like he was okay, smiled at me, held my hand, I could see it in his blue eyes. Never Regali was the love of his life, the one that got away, and I knew, too, that I could never be anything more than her replacement, a stand in. Out of all my sisters, only three of us have the same father: Beth, Never, and me. We look so alike, have the same hair, the same eyes, the same lips. The only thing worse than not being with Noah was looking him in the face everyday and knowing that I was only second place.

  I slam my hands on the wheel and let out a growl of frustration. I can't blame him for this, not Never either. I can't even blame my mom for setting this series of events into play in the first place. The only person I can blame for the way my life's turned out is me.

  I sniffle a little and then search blindly around my center console area looking for a wad of napkins. I know there are some in here. Every time I go out for fast food, I remove the napkins and shove them in my cup holders or my dash. My fingers finally connect with a stack of yellow napkins and clutch tight. I lift them up to my face and dab at my runny nose.

  By the time I get to the house, I'm going to be a spring fucking chicken. I am going to be so damn plucky that Beth'll have to consider cutting me up and cooking me for Christmas dinner. I'm going to smile and strut and laugh. I'm going to push this pain and humiliation aside and just get through the holidays with a grin plastered across my lips. Maybe I can even pick up a seasonal job? Get some money to pay Beth back. It won't be enough, not for everything she's done for me since I left for college, but maybe if I had a couple hundred bucks to soften the blow, that'd be better?

  She is going to freak the fuck out.

  I bite my lip so hard that I yelp, and my voice rings around the car and makes my head pound.

  Strangely enough, I don't even think about my mom, Angelica. She didn't care when I got into the university, so why should she care that I got kicked out? I can just imagine her mouth twisting into a self-satisfied smirk. “Thought you were better than the rest of us, didn't you? But you're not. You're just the same, Zella, just another Regali woman that makes bad choices.”

  I grit my teeth and force the thought from my head. One thing at a time. If I start imagining scenarios like that, I'll go crazy.

  I reach down, turn on the radio and search through a dozen stations until I find one that's not country or Christian. Classic rock 'n' roll cuts through the misery for just a moment, and in less than five minutes, I'm belting the lyrics to AC/DC's Highway to Hell and entertaining thoughts of joining a biker gang.

  I shake my head back and forth with the sound, brunette curls slapping my cheeks as I creep up over the speed limit into dangerous territory. At this point, getting pulled over doesn't sound so bad. What's a speeding ticket in the scheme of things? I roll down my window and let the wind whip my face as the song comes to an end, and I play a little air guitar with my left hand.

  Every Breath You Take by The Police comes on next, and I find myself biting my lip and tapping my left foot to the music. There's nobody around to see, so I might as well act like a weirdo when I'm sitting here by myself. Noah would laugh if he saw, would probably join in with me and sing the words to the songs. Tobias would look at me like I was crazy and switch the station over to something with hip hop or rap on it.

  I sigh, mouthing the words to the music as I grab my phone and swipe my thumb across the screen. There are a few texts from Beth asking if I've left yet. As far as she knows, this is strictly my standard winter break trip. That's it. I'm just coming home to see Never, Ty, and baby Noah. I scoff and shake my head, wondering what kind of guy lets his wife name their new baby after her ex. A perfect guy, I think with a slight stab of jealousy. A guy that understands the love Never and Noah shared.

  “Fuck.”

  Why does everyone involved in this scenario have to be so nice and understanding? It'd be a lot easier if I hated Never, or Noah, or even Ty. But I don't. So I'm going to put on my big girl panties and head up to the cabin with a swagger and a smile. First though, I'm going to stop by the house and empty all my stuff into the barn. If anybody catches sight of these boxes, they'll know this is more than a holiday trip.

  I'm about to toss my phone back into a cup holder when a call comes through. The name on the screen makes my chest tighten painfully. Noah.

  “Speak of the devil,” I whisper, swiping my finger across the screen to answer it and turn on the speakerphone. “Hey, dude!” My voice sounds … off. Like I'm trying way too hard to be cheerful. That's the truth, but I can't let anyone know that. For almost a full minute, there's silence. I've only spoken to Noah a handful of times in the past year, mostly to blow him off and act like a snippy little bitch. I'm sure he didn't expect me to answer the phone.

  “Hey Zella,” he says, and my heart warms. I love the way Noah says my name. Zel-la. “It's so nice to hear your voice.” I choke and hold back a sniffle. Crap. If I'm already cracking in two from a comment like that, what am I going to do when he brushes my hair back from my f
ace, looks me in the eyes with his baby blues and whispers my name against my lips. I almost crash my car. Seriously, I swerve a little and come within a fraction of an inch of the center median. The black pickup truck behind me honks its horn.

  “Yeah, it's good to talk to you, too.” I swallow back a lump and glance at my reflection in the rearview mirror. My eyes are red rimmed and ready to overflow, but I refuse to let them. I sigh and shake my head, trying to ground my thoughts. “Thanks for letting us use your cabin, Noah. It'll be a hell of a lot nicer to have Christmas away from that woman.” That's how I like to refer to my mom with everyone that matters. They know exactly who I'm talking about, and I don't have to give her a title she doesn't deserve.

  I can almost hear him smiling through the phone at me. His voice, when he next speaks, is decidedly more cheerful.

  “It's going to be an amazing Christmas, Zella. I got a tree for the living room that's two stories tall. The branches are so long that you can actually reach it from the second floor balcony without having to lean over the banister. We'll have to watch them carefully, but I think the girls are going to get a kick out of decorating it.” The excitement in his voice makes me feel guilty, like I'm a terrible person for not embracing the feelings between us.

  “That's awesome,” I say, feeling my knee start to shake, my foot start to tap in nervousness. I'm only a few hours into this trip and already, the angst is thick enough to spread on a piece of toast. I got kicked out, Noah. It wasn't fair. Maybe I made some mistakes, but I didn't deserve that. They took away my financial aid. They took away my scholarship. I can't go back to the university. I'm afraid. I don't want to end up like my mom. I choke the words back, letting them stagnate in my throat until they suffocate and disappear. “So, who's all going to be there? My crazy family, of course, but what about yours?” I'm fishing for information, but hopefully he won't be able to tell.

  “Well, my parents are out of the country for the next couple of months. Looks like it's just going to be me and the Regali clan.” He pauses. “Provided that's still okay?”

  I scoff.

  “Of course it's okay. It's your cabin, Noah.”

  “Yeah, but … ”

  “Look, Noah, if you're still thinking about last year and all the crap that happened between us, don't. I've already forgotten. It doesn't even matter.” A worse lie has never crawled through my lips, and I feel terrible even as I'm in the process of spewing it. Doesn't matter? Of course it matters. Noah and I fucked each other in my sister's bed. How screwed up is that? And after he told me he didn't want a relationship? What was I thinking?

  “Zella,” he says, and his voice drops a little, getting husky with emotion. “I'm sorry for the things I said and did. I was hurting, and I took the pain out on you. It wasn't fair. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.” Oh my God. Oh my fucking God. So, like, what do I say to that? Hmm? How do I turn that shit down?

  I choke back a fresh surge of emotion and let the pain of what happened with Tobias damper Noah's heartfelt apology.

  “It's cool,” I say, when what I really mean is I'm sorry, too. “Look, let's just brush this under the rug and have a good time, okay? Like we used to. You up to watch Gremlins with me this year? Or Jingle All the Way? There are so many lame Christmas movies we missed out on last year.” Noah's silent for a minute and I'm afraid he's going to hold onto that baggage, make things even harder for me. But he doesn't. Of course he doesn't. Noah Scott is perfect in every way but one: he's in love with my sister.

  “I can't think of a single thing on this earth that I'd rather be doing,” he whispers as I struggle to stay calm and hold back the emotions bubbling in my chest. Noah. I wish we could be together. I really do, but I can't. I can't be second best, I'm sorry. “Everyone else is heading up to the cabin tomorrow, but I know it's probably easier for you to stop in there first. I was thinking, if you want, I could meet you up there and we could have the whole place to ourselves tonight?”

  My throat closes up, and I find myself pulling off onto the nearest exit. I have to find a restaurant or something and get out for a little while. My car suddenly feels like a coffin, trapping me, drowning me in dark dirt and feelings I don't understand. There goes my plan to sneak up to the house and drop my shit in the barn. Damn it, family. Why are you making things hard for me?

  “Zella?”

  “Uh, yeah,” I say, knowing there's no real way for me to get out of this. The house is three hours away from the cabin. If I turn Noah down or make a detour, he'll know. “Sounds great.”

  “Perfect,” he breathes, and my tongue gets so twisted, I don't think I could even pronounce my own name. “Give me a heads-up when you're a few hours out? I'll get up there a little early and make you something for dinner.”

  Fuck.

  I grunt noncommittally and Noah takes that as assent.

  “I can't wait to see you, Zella.” He pauses, but I still can't find the words to reply. “And I love you.”

  He hangs up before my mouth and heart can conspire against me and blurt out the words.

  I love you, too.

  7

  I can't quite get up the courage to call Noah back, to hear his voice again. I'm not ready yet. I need more time. So when I'm about an hour from the cabin, I text him and say that I'm three hours away. It's not like I enjoy lying to the guy, but if I pull up that gravel driveway and find him wearing an apron and cooking me something that belongs in a five star restaurant, my resolve will crumble and I won't know what to do with myself.

  Unfortunately, my plan doesn't work and Noah calls me right back. I let the call ring and don't answer it, hoping he'll assume it's just because I'm driving and can't get to the phone. A minute later, a text comes through.

  Already here. I was going to start dinner, but I didn't realize you were so far away. Might get in the hot tub for a bit.

  Great.

  The hot tub.

  Noah Scott … in the hot tub, steam rising up around him, shrouding his firm muscles in steam, warm water clinging to his flesh and inviting my tongue to lick a line between each drop. I shove the thoughts violently away and focus on the fifteen missed calls I have from random numbers with 512 area codes. That's Austin, Texas. The place I just left behind. The place I'll probably never go back to. It has to be Tobias trying to get a hold of me. I can't even believe the nerve of that guy. Yeah, we've had our ups and downs, but this is on a whole new level. This isn't a slap across the cheek. This is a straight up gut punch to my future. If he really thinks I want to talk to him after all that, he's dead wrong.

  I force myself to keep driving, even though my mind is trying to convince me that I need to take as many rest stops as is humanly possible. Delaying our meeting won't change anything. I just hope he's not actually in the hot tub when I get there.

  I sigh and stare at the bright rectangle of light cutting through the darkness ahead of my car. It's a nice car, too nice for a girl like me, but Noah wanted me to have something that was safe, so here I am, driving a vehicle that costs ten times what my mother's station wagon is worth. Granted, it's not even a drop in the bucket when you compare it to Noah's vehicle, but he didn't choose that car. His dad did. Well, his dad gave him a list of “acceptable” vehicle choices, and he had to pick one. Twenty-two years old and still tethered to that town, that family. Run the fuck away, Noah Scott! I want to scream this at him, take his hand, flee the state. I want to move to New York City, live in a crappy studio where there's barely enough room for us to stand. I want to fall asleep next to him every night, wake up to his smiling face and blue eyes every morning.

  “Stop it, stop it, stop it. Zella, seriously, shut your face up.”

  I pull my car off the road and onto a gravel pathway that hardly qualifies as a street. The only building up this way is Noah's cabin, a sprawling monstrosity of wealth and privilege. But I'll be the first to admit, it's a beautiful, beautiful monster. Two stories of rustic log cabin with all the modern amenities of a hou
se in the city. Stainless steel appliances, marble countertops, showers with double showerheads and computerized temperature controls.

  I bring the car to a stop at the base of the driveway and shut off my headlights, so Noah won't know I'm sitting here like an idiot. The house is up the hill from me, windows twinkling with the warm, bright glow of Noah's presence. God. I can't even believe it's been a year since I've seen him. I think about the call I got from Beth, telling me that Never had come home. I felt a sense of relief in that, thinking that Noah could be happy now, that all of his waiting had paid off. I felt like I could … walk away and survive. But then I saw that guy with the butterfly tattoos and the rings, the ebony hair. I saw the way he looked at my sister and I knew: Noah didn't stand a chance. It was painful watching him try though, even more painful when he realized what I'd already known. And then I made the mistake of letting myself hope that we could be together. I should never have slept with him that night. What a mistake that was. I only let my heart get more tangled up in this impossible situation.

  I grab my phone and call my sister.

  “Zella?” Never's voice sounds sleepy, and I have to take a second look at the clock to make sure it isn't as late as it feels. In winter, it gets dark real early around here. “Are you okay? Are you at the cabin yet?”

  “I could be asking you the same thing. You sound exhausted, are you sure everything's alright down there?” I feel my mouth pulling down into a frown as my sister yawns. I shut the ignition off and drop my keys in my lap, listening to the sounds of nightlife settling around me, wrapping me in a blanket of peacefulness that only makes this whole meeting harder. Frankly, I'd rather camp out in the woods tonight with nothing but a blanket and a bottle of vodka.

  “I'm fine. Just tired, like I said.” That is so not the whole story, but I don't have time to press right now. I know my sister. I know it'll be a hell of a lot harder for her to lie to me when I look her in the eyes tomorrow. I'll wait. “So, are you at the cabin or what?”