Tangled Up In You

by Jaclyn Osborn

  The service was being held in a funeral home downtown called Ocker’s. It was a nice brick building with a lot of greenery surrounding it, I guess in an attempt to give off a feeling of tranquility for the grieving families. But to me, it just kind of made it more sad. Not sure why, but it did.

  An older man held the door open for us as we entered the building. He handed us a pamphlet for the service and on the front of it was a photo of Bill. It still seemed like a bad dream that he was actually gone.

  There’d be no more days of me going over to his house after work and having dinner with him. No more of us sitting on his back porch and talking about life and how proud he was of Corbin—which he loved to do.

  As I felt myself start to tear up, I took a deep breath and blinked them back.

  “Hunter,” a husky, familiar voice said from behind me. I turned to see Corbin, and my breath caught in my throat. He was in a black suit that somehow looked different on him than it did on the rest of us. “Thank you for being here.”

  “Of course,” I said, hugging him. I might’ve lingered in his arms a little longer than necessary, which I knew was a bad idea, but I couldn’t help myself. I missed him so much it hurt. “You know he was like my grandpa too.”

  “I know.” He continued holding me before slowly pulling away. “Thanks for being there for him when I wasn’t.”

  That one statement had so much guilt within it, and the look in his eyes mirrored that emotion. I knew him so well and no amount of time could change that.

  “Don’t do this to yourself, Cor,” I said, refraining from reaching out to him again like I wanted. “Bill was so damn proud of you, and he understood why you weren’t around much. Your happiness is all he ever wanted.”

  It’s all I ever wanted too, which is why I let you go.

  “The service is about to start,” Corbin said, looking into the main room before turning back to me. His dark blond hair had that controlled messy look, and his gray eyes were big and vulnerable. “Will you sit with me?”

  What he was really saying: I need you.

  I nodded. “I’ll be with you the whole time.”

  His eyes watered. “Thank you.”

  We walked through the doors and took a seat in the front pew. Corbin had ensured Bill had the most beautiful service. The black casket was surrounded by gorgeous flower arrangements and topped with a burial wreath that looked to include an assortment of carnations, hydrangeas, and Stargazer lilies encased in aspidistra and ivy vines.

  When the preacher began the introduction, talking about how great of a man Bill was and discussing parts of his life, Corbin reached over and grabbed my hand. He continued to stare straight ahead, but his fingers squeezed mine, as if I was his anchor.

  Right then, I didn’t think of all the reasons I should keep him at a distance. All I thought about was how much he needed me, and how I wouldn’t let him down. I’d figure out everything else later, but for the moment, I was going to be there for my friend.

  The seven years apart might’ve changed a lot, but that wasn’t one of them.

  ***

  After one hell of an emotional day, Corbin asked me to come over to his grandpa’s house. Well, it was technically his house now, since Bill had left everything to him in his will, but to us, it’d always be Bill’s place.

  “Do you want a drink?” Corbin asked a few minutes after I’d walked through the door.

  “No thanks,” I said, shrugging out of my jacket and draping it over the back of the couch.

  “Well, I’m gonna drink,” he said before walking into the kitchen.

  I stared after him a moment before following him in there. He’d clearly made a visit to the liquor store recently by the brand new bottle of Captain Morgan and the case of beer. He grabbed a glass and poured a generous amount of Morgan in it before adding in some Coke.

  After taking a drink, he stared out the window.

  It was dark outside, so I was sure he couldn’t see much, but still he stared.

  “Do you remember that time we discovered the small door that led under the house, and we grabbed some flashlights and went exploring?” he asked before taking another drink.

  I smiled. “Yeah, we were like ten, right? We crawled around under the house and pretended it was some adventure. Then that one time we brought food with us and ate down there like a bunch of weirdos.”

  Corbin chuckled. “Gramps was so mad when he found out and he ended up putting a lock on the door so we couldn’t go back down there. ‘Gonna get snake bit,’ he said.”

  “He had a point, though,” I stated, stepping up beside him. “Remember that one time I did say I thought I felt something touch my leg.”

  “It was my hand,” he admitted with a sheepish grin.

  “You ass,” I said with a laugh. “If we’re going down memory lane, I think I will have that drink.” I grabbed a beer and popped the cap before taking a long pull from the bottle. I never drank, unless it was socially. But even then, I only had like a beer or two. I didn’t handle hard liquor well.

  We went into the living room after that. Corbin sat on the couch, and I almost sat beside him, but ended up choosing the recliner on second thought. He scrunched his brow as I sat down but then he focused on his glass.

  “Remember when we got lost in the woods?” I asked, wanting to distract him from whatever thought that’d visibly upset him. “We wandered around for hours, and then you found that piece of clothing stuck on a sharp branch. We scared the hell out of ourselves as we made up a story of how it got there, saying that someone had gotten kidnapped and murdered.”

  It worked.

  Corbin grinned and rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. “Oh, god. By the end of it, we were both crying and hiding under a tree. When we hadn’t made it home after dark, Gramps came looking for us.”

  “Then you screamed when you saw his flashlight,” I said.

  “I didn’t scream!” he lied. “It was a gasp.”

  “A gasp of utter terror,” I pointed out, laughing. “You thought the killer was coming for us.”

  More stories of our childhood were told, and the more we talked, the less awkward it seemed. It was as if the seven years hadn’t passed, and we were the same as we’d been before having our falling out.

  There were a few times when we’d get to talking about Bill and we’d tear up, but we tried to stick to the happy memories. While we were still sad at his passing, we celebrated his life and how amazing he’d been.

  “So what’s it like being a teacher?” Corbin asked after having several more glasses.

  We’d done a lot of talking that night, but we’d stayed in the past instead of discussing our present. The change made me nervous.

  “Pretty great, actually,” I answered, watching his face for his reaction. “My first day teaching, I had a kid backtalk me. It took me a bit to know how to handle it all.”

  His brows shot up. “Wow. Do the kids still act like that?”

  “No. There are some that I know can do better in class than what they’re doing, but for the most part, they’re an excellent bunch of kids.”

  “Look at us.” Corbin grinned and studied his near-empty glass. “We’ve both done well for ourselves. You with the English thing and me with football.”

  “Yep.”

  “Want another?” he asked, nodding to my now empty beer.

  “Sure.” When he stood, so did I, and we went back into the kitchen. He stumbled a bit as he got to the counter, and I quickly shoved an arm out to steady him. “Maybe you’ve had enough, though.”

  “Nah, I’m good,” he said before bracing himself on the edge of the counter. After taking a few breaths, he lightly chuckled. “Okay, I might just have a beer instead. I’m not drunk, but the room is spinning just a little.”

  I shook my head. “That’s called drunk, Cor.”

  He held my gaze. “If you say so.”

  I regarded him as he looked down. His long eyelashes created small shadows on the
tops of his cheeks, and my chest tightened as other memories started to surface: us sitting by the lake before he tackled me and smiled down at me, his eyes bright and full of warmth.

  I recalled the taste of him and how easily we used to laugh together. How he used to tell me we were each other’s firsts and only. But more than anything, I remembered the way he’d made me feel after we’d had sex—how he’d hold me close to his heart.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, moving his gray eyes back to mine.

  I snapped out of my thoughts. “Nothing. Just zoning. It’s been a long week.”

  Before I could do something stupid—like grab his face and crush my lips to his—I walked over to the French doors, putting distance between us.

  “Hunter, I…” He took several steps forward before stopping just a foot or so in front of me. “With everything that’s happened since I got here, we haven’t really talked about what really happened with us.”

  Shit. It was wishful thinking to hope he wouldn’t bring up that part of the past. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t somewhat eager to talk to him about it, but a bigger part of me knew it wouldn’t change anything.

  We’d grown too far apart.

  “You broke my heart,” he said with his voice cracking on the last word. A sound that mirrored the cracking in my chest. “I keep replaying those last few days over and over in my head, Hunter, and I can’t figure it out.”

  My insides coiled, but I tried to keep a straight face. “There’s nothing to figure out. We drifted apart. It happens.”

  “That’s bullshit,” he snapped, coming forward and grabbing my wrist. “I know we had that fight when I told you about USC, and I said things I shouldn’t have, but that shit you said over the phone came out of nowhere; that we wouldn’t have worked out if I’d stayed.” He released my arm but didn’t move away. Instead, he moved closer until his forehead rested against mine. “I was so close to coming home to you and then you shattered me. Why?”

  My heart went wild and I yearned to put my arms around him. To bury my face in his neck like I used to do.

  I stepped back.

  If I told him the truth, he’d get pissed. Sometimes I got mad at myself for it too, but at the time, I’d convinced myself it’d been the right thing to do. Without me, he’d been free to do whatever the hell he wanted.

  “It doesn’t matter why,” I said.

  “Bullshit. It matters to me.” Corbin closed the distance between us again, and when I tried to walk away, he slapped his hand against the wall beside my head and barricaded me in. “Please, Hunter. Quit trying to run away and fucking talk to me.”

  “We’ve both been drinking.” I met his hardened expression. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk about it tonight.”

  His stare was unwavering and he didn’t move a muscle. “If not now, then when? Because I’ve been waiting a long ass time for answers.” His face softened and his hand moved to my neck, playing with the short strands of hair at my nape. “You’re the love of my life, Hunter. What the fuck happened to us?”

  If I was being honest with myself, I was afraid of his reaction. It’d crush me if he agreed that I would’ve been a distraction back then. Was he dating someone else? He sure as hell hadn’t come out in the past seven years.

  Maybe he never would.

  “Like I said. We grew up, Corbin.”

  “I don’t accept that answer,” he said, tightening his jaw.

  “I need to get home. It’s late,” I said. The feel of him against me felt so right, but I refused to give into him. “Move your arm.”

  Surprisingly, he did.

  “You can’t drive home,” he pointed out. “You can crash in the guest room tonight.”

  “Okay,” I said, knowing he was right. I wasn’t drunk, but I’d had too much to get behind a wheel. After brushing past him, I walked toward the staircase. But on the first step, I looked back at him. He was in the same spot in the kitchen, just staring at the wall. “Goodnight.”

  He turned his head toward me, but didn’t say anything. Then, he walked out of sight. I heard another bottle being opened and a pain spread through my chest.

  Corbin was grieving over his loss and just trying to make sense of what happened with us… and instead of helping him, I’d wounded him deeper. Giving him answers meant I’d be opening myself up to his reaction, and I didn’t know if I was ready for it.

  Some secrets were better kept in the past.

  Chapter 8

  Corbin

  The morning was cold despite the sun shining down on me. I wore sweatpants, a long sleeved shirt and a thick jacket over it, plus gloves and a beanie covering my ears, and I was still freezing my balls off.

  Running helped me think, though, and I had a lot on my mind.

  Hunter was definitely not the same person he used to be. People changed as they grew up, but I guess I’d fooled myself into thinking he’d be the same sweet guy who used to nerd out about classic literature one moment and then kiss me like there was no tomorrow the next.

  Now, he was detached and unreadable.

  There were the occasional glimpses of the Hunter I once knew, but they faded almost as quickly as they appeared.

  I’d jogged that same road so many times that I still remembered it all those years later. The curve to the right once I got to the corner with the oak tree, the straight and narrow path after that, followed by another right turn that brought me back around to the entrance of Grandpa’s land. The familiarity of it allowed me to think about other things. But as Hunter went through my head—and the cold look in his eyes from a few nights ago—I decided that concentrating on the path was healthier.

  A while later, I got back to the house, stripped out of my jogging clothes, and took a hot shower. I stayed in there longer than usual, breathing in the steam and letting the water soothe my muscles.

  What the hell am I going to do?

  Grandpa had left everything to me. Since he willed me his estate and I was the only beneficiary, it didn’t have to go through probate court and it shouldn’t take too long for everything to be finalized. Maybe a month or two. That’s where I struggled.

  I had my own life in Kansas City and had no intention of moving, but I didn’t want the house to just sit there and rot with no one living in it.

  The idea of selling it hurt. My whole childhood was in that house: the marks Grandpa had made on the wall as I grew taller, the fence we’d built in the backyard, and the garden I’d helped him plant throughout the years.

  Having a stranger move in and take over didn’t sit right with me. And I knew Gramps wouldn’t have liked that either.

  Once my skin began turning bright pink, I shut off the shower and got out. I pulled on another pair of sweats before going downstairs and starting a pot of coffee. It’d been about a week since I’d arrived in Willow and it still felt strange being there without Grandpa. I half-expected him to walk around the corner any moment and smile before talking about what he was going to cook that day.

  My phone rang, and I jolted, almost spilling my coffee down my chest. Everything was so quiet out there.

  “Hey, Austin,” I answered once seeing the caller ID.

  “Hey, man,” he said. “You doing okay?”

  I had called him the day after I got there to tell him about what happened, but hadn’t talked to him since.

  “Yeah. It’s just hard to wrap my head around sometimes.” I sat down at the kitchen table and gazed into the back field. “I wonder if it’ll ever get easier.”

  “It will,” he responded in a hopeful tone. “When my cousin died a few years ago, I was the same way. Feeling kinda lost and often times numb. But it eventually passes. The loss still hurts, but it gets easier to cope with it.”

  “How are things with you?” I asked, needing a distraction from my own problems. “Have you proposed to Beth yet?”

  Austin chuckled. “Um, no. Not yet. Shit, it’s a lot harder than I thought it’d be. Like, I love her, and I
know she feels the same. But I want it to be perfect and something she’ll always remember.”

  “I’m not an expert on the matter, but you can’t just keep waiting for what you think is the perfect moment. It’ll be special to her because it’s coming from you. Don’t overthink it.”

  “So, I should just stick the ring in the middle of a pizza and give it to her?” he asked, and I didn’t have to see his face to know he was full of shit. “That’ll be special.”

  “Definitely memorable,” I said before taking another drink of my coffee. “Thanks for checking up on me.”

  “Anytime, Taylor. Oh, hey, babe!” I was confused for a moment, until I heard Beth’s voice in the background. She must’ve just walked in. He then said to me, “I’ll talk to you later, man.”

  “Okay. Later.”

  After hanging up, I finished the rest of my coffee before pouring a second cup. When the silence of the house became too much, I put on my shoes and coat and went to sit on the back porch. With it being winter, there wasn’t much noise outside either, but it was better than being cooped up inside.

  There weren’t just memories of my grandpa everywhere but of Hunter too. He’d practically lived at my house junior and senior year of school. I saw signs of him everywhere I looked.

  I wanted to fix things—to fix us. But I didn’t know how.

  Like an idiot, I’d hoped I could return to my hometown and pick up as if I’d never left. That me and Hunter would meet back up, have a huge sappy reunion, and then talk about old times. After seven years, that was impossible. Too much had changed between the two of us.

  And he was stubborn.

  Even in the beginning of our relationship, he’d often tried pushing me away. Mostly out of fear of what other people would think.

  Once, we’d been at my house; around the time we’d first started fooling around. We’d both been stressed over whether we were going to tell people about us, or whether we were going to ignore our feelings and stop.

  We were going over homework when I’d kissed his bare shoulder.