When I get into my hotel room, I close my door and pull out my phone again. I’ve been putting this off for far too long already and I know that. I’ve probably made everything much worse. Chloe answers on the first ring, her voice is sad. “Raif?”
I can hear the sounds of people talking, the clink of bottles and glasses, laughter. Thomas Rhett on the jukebox. A wave of homesickness hits me hard and I have to fight back tears. I miss her so much, miss home. I miss sitting at the bar, watching her work her magic, charming people left and right without even trying. Miss waking up to her every morning, holding her in my arms as I fall asleep at night.
I hear a soft click and the other sounds cut off and I know she must have ducked into the office, so we can talk privately. I steady my voice. “Hey, darlin’, I’m really sorry we haven’t spoken in so long. It’s good to hear your voice.” I swallow and ask, “Are you okay?”
A lifetime seems to pass in silence before I hear her shaky breath skitter over the line. “I don’t know.” Then before I can say anything else, she continues. “Pippa was here earlier.”
She pauses, and I interject, “I can explain, Chloe, I swear.”
I hear her breath catch, hear the tears in her voice now. “So, it’s true.” She sounds defeated, and all I want in the world right now is to hold her.
“She tracked me down in Columbus, trailed us.” I can hear her crying, even though I know she’s trying to hide it. “Chloe, don’t cry, please. I swear to you nothing happened.”
She sounds choked when she speaks next. “If nothing happened, what is there to explain?” She sniffs and seems to be collecting herself before she continues, her tone more accusatory now. “You swore I wasn’t a rebound, Raif. You promised me that this was for real. I trusted you, I believed you and all along, you just wanted her back?”
She doesn’t sound angry, per se, more hurt, but her words rankle my already overstretched temper. “How is it my fault that she found me? What else was I supposed to do?”
Her temper fires to life in response, her voice louder now. “I don’t know, Raif? Maybe don’t fuck her when you’re supposedly in love with me?”
I can hear it in her voice that she really believes I did that to her. I can’t believe this is happening. She’s the one person I always thought would believe me above anyone else. I never thought I’d have to defend myself against untrue allegations with Chloe. I swallow hard around the tears that are prickling against my eyes. Maybe this was all a huge mistake. I knew better than to reach for things I don’t deserve.
“You think I’d do that to you.” There’s no anger in my voice, now. Just acceptance of my reputation among the people I love. “You believed whatever line she fed you. Almost like you’ve been waiting for this to happen. I can’t keep doing this, Chloe. At some point you have to have some faith in me, in us. I can’t be the only one trying to make this work.”
Chloe’s voice is small. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. You were suddenly too busy to talk. And here she comes, telling me how I was a fool to think you’d want me and oh she had you inside her three days ago. I didn’t know what to think.”
Anger at Pippa blossoms in my chest, around the hurt that Chloe thinks so little of me. I can hear the sincerity in her words, she doesn’t seem to understand how I feel about her. Even though I’ve told her a thousand times. “Chloe, I love you, I do. I don’t want anyone but you, but this right here, this is not my problem. It’s yours. We aren’t gonna make it if you don’t have trust in me.”
“I don’t know if I can, Raif.” Her voice cracks on the words, and I hear a sob from her end of the line. “I love you, I want to be with you, but I don’t know if I can keep doing this.” I hear her pull in a deep breath. “I think I need some time….”
“Okay,” I say softly, as tears drip down my face. “I’m here if you want to talk.”
She chokes back a sob. “Okay.” She hangs up without saying goodbye. I drop my face in my hands, let the bleakness wrap around me.
Chapter 24
Chloe
The good news is that karaoke was a huge hit. We doubled the revenue we’ve been averaging on Saturdays for the last month or so. I should be happy about that. I should be relieved that Raif didn’t cheat on me with Pippa. I can’t get there, though. I can’t trust love and happiness, and I don’t know how to fix that. Also, I’ve become work for my boyfriend which was the last thing I wanted.
I don’t know what to think about any of it. Raif didn’t argue with me when I said I needed time. I can’t obsess over his motives. I’m so angry that I let Pippa get in my head and make everything worse between him and me. I know better, I know what she’s like and I fell for her nonsense. I’m sure she’s laughing it up wherever she is now. If she’s still in town, she hasn’t been stupid enough to test Odetta’s patience by coming into the Saloon.
The last two days have passed in a haze. I haven’t left the Saloon at all. The nonstop spring rain mirrors my mood, keeping the skies gray and the temperature cool. Three days is too much hiding and I can no longer avoid the world outside of the Saloon. I promised Daisy I’d meet her for lunch at the diner where she works. I leave the Saloon in Zora’s capable hands and step outside into the sunshine, breathing deep the fresh air. I don’t want to be out and about, I’m sure the town is talking about my exchange with Pippa the other night. But I can’t let Daisy down.
I cross the busy town square, taking a shortcut to get to the diner. I walk at a slower-than-normal pace, lost in thoughts of Raif. I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing right now. If he’s missing me as much as I’m missing him. I don’t know if that’s possible. I miss him so much it’s a physical ache inside.
My eyes are on the sidewalk, looking for puddles so I don’t wreck my favorite sneakers when I walk right into someone. Feeling like a jerk, I reach out to make sure the other person doesn’t fall. “I’m so sorry,” I begin by rote, but cut off when I look up and see it’s Pippa. “And never mind.” I say, sourly, dropping my hands back to my sides.
From the looks of things, she was too busy looking at her cell phone to look at where she was walking. She frowns at me. “Gee, thanks.” Her voice is snotty, and rather than engage further with her, I try to detour around her. To move along on my path towards the diner and Daisy.
Pippa has other ideas, though, she turns around and follows me, walking a half step behind me. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”
“None of your business. Leave me alone.” I move faster, but her legs are longer than mine. She jogs a bit to get in front of me and then stops, halting my progress again.
“Where are you going? According to the gossips, you’ve been hiding in the Saloon for the last two days. What could have possibly drawn you out of your hidey hole?” Her voice is pure venom but instead of cringing back from her, like I usually do, I step forward and meet her challenge.
I’m so tired of everything about this woman. I am done being the bigger person. I’m done worrying about what the town will say, what people will think. Fuck them all, I’m going to say my peace this time. For myself, and for Raif. He’s mine, damn it. And I’m his. I need to make sure she can never come between us again.
I move closer until I could reach out and snatch her long hair if I wanted to, she left it down today, it’d be easy. She’d never expect it from me. Instead I plant my hands on my hips, let my own voice ring out, let my anger show. “I’m going to have lunch with Daisy, not that it’s any of your damn business. Nothing in my life—or Raif’s—is your business. So back off and leave both of us the hell alone!”
She looks shocked for half a second and then her face transforms with delight. “You—the best friend who used to sleep in his bed— are going to tell me to back off! That’s rich!” She shakes her head, two livid spots of color high on her cheekbones. “He might have been taken in by your giant, save-me eyes, but I never was. I knew you wanted him, I knew you were using your whore of a mother as an excuse to cozy up
to him.”
I think about those nights, the fear that was a living thing in my chest, and force myself to laugh in her face. I will not give her the satisfaction of seeing those words affect me. “You don’t know him at all. That’s the crux of the whole problem, Pippa. You don’t give a damn about anyone but yourself and you never have. And for some reason, he’s never seen how wonderful he is, so he allowed you to treat him like shit. But he never really let you get to know him and you were okay with that. Until you threw him away one too many times and he decided to move on!”
“And of course, you were right there to help him along with that, weren’t you? Just like your mother,” she says, trying to play the victim.
I shake my head, keeping my face calm despite the rage her words bring to life inside me. “Nope. You’re wrong. I was his friend, Pippa. He made the first move,” I tell her, relishing the anger on her face. “And the second and the third. He said, ‘I love you’ first, told me he’d loved me forever,” my voice shakes with emotion. “But he didn’t think he deserved me. You were the punishment he inflicted on himself for all those years!”
Her face goes white with rage and I watch in shock as she opens and then closes her mouth without saying anything. She looks like a fish out of water, her mouth gaping. It looks like she might be breaking down for real this time. The tears that slip out of her eyes are real as she mutters angrily, “You two deserve each other, alright.” Then she turns and flees the town square.
When I look around, I see there are several small groups of people gathered around, watching our fight with apt interest. I don’t even care what they’re saying. I didn’t say anything I didn’t mean, nothing I’d want to hide. I’m done caring about what everyone else thinks. I walk on to meet Daisy and carry on with my day. Anyone who gives a damn about my argument with Pippa can get a life.
I enter the diner and conversation hushes all around me. “Get a life.” I mutter.
Daisy comes bouncing over, her curls semi-tamed into a high ponytail. She grabs me up in a tight hug, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in months!” she says.
I grin at her. “I know, I’ve been too busy working.” I hug her back, feeling better about life in general at seeing her. “Is it break time or am I early?”
She smacks a kiss to my cheek. “No, you are exactly on time, like usual. I already put our order in, I hope you don’t mind.”
I laugh. “What’s for lunch?”
“Well, Mom said you were too thin the last time we saw you, so I ordered you the bacon double cheeseburger with the fries and onion rings. And a chocolate shake. And I’m supposed to force you to have some pie for dessert.” She says all this very fast, as though if she breathes between words, she won’t get the chance to finish.
Laughing, I hug her again, leading her to an empty booth by the window that looks out over the square. “Well, you might have to roll me out of here when we’re done, but that all sounds good to me right now. I haven’t eaten yet today.”
She giggles, and we settle in at the table to wait for our lunch. And for a little while, I feel like everything might be okay.
I’m dreaming. And I know I’m dreaming because my grandparents are both alive. We’re in the Saloon, of course, because that’s where they spent most of their time when they were alive. And I’m so happy to be on the customer side of the bar, rather than behind it mixing drinks and serving people. I miss this view of the Saloon, when I could just sit back and watch the mini dramas of small town life unfurl in front of me.
I miss watching my grandparents banter back and forth, the depth of the love they shared apparent in everything they did together. They would sneak me in and let me sit by the jukebox when I wasn’t technically supposed to be on the premises. It kept me away from home, away from my mother and whatever she got up to there. They tried their best to protect me from my mother and her lifestyle. My grandfather is still trying to protect me, by leaving me the Saloon. Whether I wanted it or not, he left it in my care.
I’m watching Odetta and Hank Warner dance around the floor together, the Saloon is otherwise empty. My grandparents join them as I watch from my bar stool. The jukebox plays My Favorite Memory by Merle Haggard and they twirl around together. I sit, watching them, my heart aching with loneliness. Even in my dreams I can’t escape it.
Despite my epiphany with Pippa earlier, I didn’t call him. I don’t exactly know what to say honestly. I know I’m better for him than anyone else, I know he’s the only one I’ll ever want. But the trusting that we can work, that’s what I struggle with. And I can’t keep doing this to him. He deserves me to be all in this with him. No more reservations. Until I know I can do that, I can’t call him.
Suddenly, the jukebox stutters to a halt, and a loud grating beep replaces it. The noise is everywhere, and then there’s the overpowering stench of smoke. Something isn’t right, no something has gone very wrong. I jerk upright on the couch in my apartment above the Saloon, coughing, looking around frantically for the source of the thick black smoke billowing everywhere around me.
Terror seizes my heart and I hear the crackling of flames from somewhere. But where? I can feel the heat, sweat is pouring off my body. I’m still frozen on the couch. I don’t know what to do, I’ve never prepared for this. I tentatively touch my bare foot to the hardwood floor in front of the couch and yank it back again. The wood is blazing hot. I gulp and then choke and cough on the fumes I inhaled.
I grab for my cell phone off the coffee table and attempt to peer through the smoke. Going downstairs is obviously out of the question, but if I can get to the back door and my porch, I can get out that way. I turn the flashlight function on my cell phone on, surely, I can use it to illuminate a safe path out of the apartment.
It’s no good, though. I can’t see my hand in front of my face in here, even with the flashlight on. The air is thickening by the second, the heat ratcheting higher and higher, and the crackling of the flames I can’t see through the smoke is getting louder. I’m convinced the floor is about to be engulfed at any moment. There’s no way I’m going to get off of the couch without damaging my feet.
Forcing myself to think of the apartment’s layout, I close my eyes for a moment. It’s an open floor plan. I recall the coffee table in front of the couch, the entertainment stand beyond that, housing the television and stereo. But the door outside is in the other direction. I need to go behind the couch, which should be open space until I hit the kitchen. From there, I can go on through and out the sliding glass doors, onto the porch.
If I can get outside, I will be safe. That’s the only thought in my head as I lift my shirt over my mouth and nose and launch off the couch, crying out at the burning on my bare feet. I dash over the burning floorboards, crashing into walls as I navigate the darkness. I don’t take two steps before I’m hacking, my lungs burning with the smoke I’m inhaling, even through my shirt.
Tears sting my eyes, making it even harder to see and I try to stay calm through the panic surging through me. There’s a voice in my head echoing that I’m going to die here tonight. Finally, I dance my way on tiptoes all the way across the charring linoleum and make it to the back door. I try to protect my hand from being burned, using my shirt as a barrier between the metal handle of the sliding door and my skin.
It still hurts when I touch the handle, but I think my skin is intact. Small victories, I tell myself and force the door over, so I can stumble out onto my back porch. I fall to my knees on the hardwood, scraping the already sensitive skin of my palms, gulping air into my aching lungs. I cough, my lungs in agony still, the world spinning around me as I try and catch my breath. Don’t pass out now, Chloe, no. You can’t. You have to get to the ground and call the fire department. You are not safe yet. Not yet. The voice is in my head, but it belongs to my grandfather.
I crawl over towards the steps that go down to the ground and see flames leaping, licking their way up, towards me. The fire is eating away at the building inside and out
now. A sob escapes my throat. I’m trapped. There’s no way down. No easy way, I hear Merle say. Go on, girl, you know what you have to do. Get up. I look up at the oak tree that grows tall and strong not too far from the building. If I can get to the tree, there’s a branch that hangs almost directly overhead on the other side of the deck. I can climb down from there. I can do this.
The roar of the fire is all I can hear, the heat of it chafing my skin, and I stumble back to my feet, crying hard. I don’t want to die. The thought of dying without having fixed things with Raif, of never discovering what I want my future to be, it’s too much to handle right now. I force it out of my head, think only of putting one foot in front of the other as I practically run on my abused feet to where the branch hangs.
I reach up trying to grab the branch with my fingers, but I’m too short. The flames are almost to the top of the staircase now, coming ever closer. I don’t have time to think too much about my next move. I hoist myself up, every motion causing me pain. I try to balance myself on the railing but I’m not steady and before I can even think to reach for the branch, I’m falling.
Chapter 25
Raif
The hospital where Chloe was taken is just as tiny as it was when my mother used to bring me here as a child. The memories of those years of abuse at my father’s hands keep flooding my mind, bumping up against the thoughts of Chloe unconscious, hurt and alone. I can’t stop trembling and I don’t care who sees it. I need to know she’s going to be okay. I can’t lose her. I can’t.
The waiting room is full of people who are here for her. Has been since I arrived. Mom and Daisy are huddled together on one side of me. Daisy is pale, crying into Mom’s shoulder as they hold each other. Luke is on my other side, his face tense, his hands fisted in his lap. Troy and Bran are here, too, both silent. Troy’s leg is jogging up and down, a nervous habit he’s had since we were kids. Bran doesn’t look to be at home mentally. Odetta is pacing the length of the waiting room, wringing her hands. She hasn’t stopped moving since we arrived.
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