by K. M. Galvin
I always thought of Seattle as home, but being back here with old neighbors and my old job…this is home. The feeling of being adrift, even before my father passed, is gone. I can’t believe I left in the first place. Jamie comes down every other weekend to hang out, so he says, but it’s clear he’s checking up on me.
I don’t mind, though. It’s always nice to have someone who cares showing that they care. Mostly we sit on the dock in the Adirondack chairs my dad built and talk. We talk more now as friends then we ever did when we were together. It’s shocking to know that I would have married this man, this stranger.
I never knew this Jamie, he never knew this Taylor, and now it’s clear we would always be better as friends. When I first came here, I felt as if I was sleepwalking through life. Even after my failed attempt to shake myself up with removing the familiar in order to find a life and myself. The irony here is that only when I went back to all that was truly familiar did I find myself.
Scooping my hair into a high ponytail, I shake off my thoughts and leave the cabin, the screen door slamming behind me. The walk through the woods to the lodge is a well-worn path. I wonder if my feet are finding the same places to land as my father. My eyes close as a breeze snakes its way through the trees, ruffling leaves and teasing my hair.
The birds chirping and the smell of fall approaching are all I need. I blink open my eyes and look up at the swirl of yellows, reds, and oranges flirting with the leaves; it gives me a tiny thrill. I’m so thrilled to be done with summer.
My feet go from silence to a crunch as I enter the property and walk on the stone path up to the back of the lodge. It looks up among the trees, blending in with the forest rather than pushing the forest out of the way. It’s a beautiful Tudor style home, unlike the traditional lodge, and lends itself to a more elite clientele.
When I reach the pool, I notice a young boy of about six running out of one of the changing rooms in blue swim shorts and bright yellow water wings on each arm. His exuberant cry as he launches himself into the water brings a smile to my face. Such unadulterated joy is catching and I take the smile with me inside, along with the picture of a cute, dark haired little boy cannonballing into what has to be cold water.
My phone buzzes in the back pocket of my jean shorts and I reach for it as I wave to Peter at the front desk, letting him know I’m here and ready for my group. Looking down, I see that it’s Jamie calling and my hand hovers over the decline button before I give in and answer.
“Hey, Doc.” I greet and grin when I hear his grumbling on the other end. For someone who’s worked for years to become an M.D., my nickname surely aggravates him.
“Taylor, what did I say about leaving your door wide open?” he chastises.
“Are you already here? Damn, you made really good time. I wasn’t expecting you for another three hours.”
“Don’t ignore me,” Jamie says in such an aggrieved voice, I have to laugh.
“Sorry, sorry. I know, but I only left it open so you could just go straight there and settle instead of waiting for me to finish up here.”
“You’re such a—” he cuts off with a gasp and my hand tightens over the cell.
“What?”
“Taylor Jane McKay,” he whispers sharply, and I tense further.
“Uh oh, middle name. Tell me what I did so I can apologize already.”
“Why are there several gossip magazines starring our own billionaire on the cover stacked in your bathroom? Are you torturing yourself?”
My stomach bottoms out and I curse myself for leaving in such a rush that I didn’t take care of the evidence. “Um—”
“Are you ok? Having trouble sleeping?” he asks immediately and I bite my lip at the concern in his voice.
“Jamie—”
“I know you want to jump back into a routine, but I think you need to talk to someone. Are you still having nightmares?”
“Jamie, I’m about to be at work, I don’t have time for this conversation.”
“Fine, but we are talking about this,” he says sternly, and I roll my eyes.
“Bye,” I say in response and hang up.
Later when I get home, Jamie is waiting for me. Like, literally waiting outside on the steps—waiting for me. Exhaling loudly, I take a seat next to him on the porch steps and watch the sun dance on the water as it begins to set.
“God, Taylor, have you looked in a mirror lately?” he asks quietly and lean back on my hands.
“God, Jamie, is this how you talk to women?” I counter, mimicking him.
“Can you please cut the bullshit? When was the last time you got more than three hours of sleep?”
I lift a shoulder, unwilling to admit I haven’t slept a full night since the island. In the months that have passed, I’ve had no direct contact with East. I specify direct because while I haven’t spoken to him personally, I’ve seen him everywhere. On the covers of magazines, on every network morning show—they even did a profile on his experience lost at sea.
He’s been everywhere and nowhere.
I’ve watched, trying to stay as removed as possible, as he turned back into the East on the yacht. The confident businessman, the sexy bachelor, the beautiful father and brother. He seems to have slid right back into his life. Happy, whole, and surrounded by love. Even Henry’s mother has made her reappearance. They’ve been photographed together in numerous tabloids.
It’s hard to reconcile the East I know and everything he’s told me with the East I’m seeing now. He’s not worse or really all that different.
But he’s not mine.
There’s been a lot of speculation about the two of us. A lot of speculation about me. I’ve watched as people speculated about me, some sympathetic and some vicious. One reporter wondered if maybe I orchestrated the entire thing in order to trap East. After all, trying to entrap East VanHouten happened to him before.
My reputation and details about my life have been splashed all over the media, but I’ve still managed ambiguity. In many parts because of the man sitting next to me and the love this town has for my father and me. People I never knew I had shrouded me from the scavengers. My life wasn’t theirs to dissect.
“Taylor?” Jamie prompts.
“I don’t know,” I admit, rubbing my eyes. The grit and dryness of them is enough to tell me Jamie’s right to be worried.
“Do you think you should talk to him?” he asks softly.
“And say what?” I say tonelessly, collapsing onto the couch.
“You’re acting like the two of you didn’t spend an inordinate amount of time by yourselves for weeks. Were you unable to talk to him then? Help me understand.”
I pat the space next to me, tired of having him loom over me. Jamie sits down, turns to me, and waits. I consider just ending the conversation, but maybe if he understood he’d leave me alone about it.
“Being on that island…we were completely isolated from all the social anxieties and expectations of life in general. The only thing we had to do was survive and stay sane. You really get to know someone in that situation because there’s no place for pretense. You have to be honest all the time because if you don’t have that partnership, that trust, you could die. I trusted him with my life. I don’t have that with anyone.”
Jamie winces and I grab his hand. “You have to understand. Of course I trust you and I believe you would do anything for your friends, but it’s never been tested so, as much as I would hope you would do the same, I know for a fact East would. It’s as simple as that. I trust him with my life because he saved mine.”
“So why is it so hard now?” Jamie asks, giving my hand a squeeze.
“Because, back in the real world, I don’t know who we are anymore. He’s got all this responsibility on his shoulders; he lives in a totally different world than I do. I don’t know this East. He’s a stranger, and after everything I’ve been through, I don’t know if I can trust this version of him. He’s unfamiliar.”
“To be fair, Ta
ylor, you’re assuming a lot. You ran away that day we left the hospital. You have no idea who he is off the island, I agree with that, but assuming he’s totally different isn’t fair. Are you a different person?”
I shake my head, my stomach dropping slightly.
“I think you need to talk to someone, Taylor. Your father’s death, quitting your job, breaking up with me, then everything that has happened after… I mean, Jesus, Taylor! I need to talk to someone about all this and I haven’t really gone through it. You wake up almost every night from nightmares and those are the days you actually are able to fall asleep.”
“The sound machine is helping.”
“Reading all these gossip magazines, reading these lies, are feeding you insecurities. You need to talk to him.”
I lean forward as tears rush to my eyes, stinging them and I blink rapidly. My body aches, bones tired from forcing this routine on my exhausted body. I’ve been lying to myself for quite awhile. It’s not East I’m afraid of, it’s myself. What if I ruin things again? My life is a disaster. What if he wants nothing to do with me? Much easier to reject someone before being rejected.
Live, squirrel.
Ah, Dad. I miss you so fucking much.
Wiping my eyes, I turn my head slightly and look into Jamie’s concerned eyes. I’m not ignorant; I know he’s visiting so often because he’s worried about me—and he has every right to worry. I may have filled out and give the appearance of healthiness, but one look in my eyes and you know things are not all right. It’s why I’ve been unable to look in a mirror for longer than a second.
I know what I’m doing to myself.
“Ok,” I whisper softly and watch as his shoulders sink in relief.
“I’ll help you find someone tomorrow. Let’s get some dinner.”
JAMIE GIVES ME AN EXTRA squeeze before he leaves, worry clear and present on his face. I have no words to reassure him. All my attempts at returning to a normal life have been upended, and if I decide to let East be a part of it?
It’ll be a media frenzy.
I tighten my ponytail and push the shorter strains out of my face. As vain as it is, one of the first things I did was get my hair fixed. Now it sits right above my shoulders in soft, blonde layers. Scarves were going to be my best friend this winter.
It’s already so chilly, I think, wrapping another of my dad’s plaids tighter around my body. I opt for jeans today, the button a bit of a workout to close. To be fair, I did emotional-eat most of yesterday and I should be happy that I’ve gained the weight back. I looked sickly when I was rescued.
Walking into the lodge lobby, I stomp my half boots before walking on the beautiful hardwoods, not wanting to track in any dirt. I wave to the front desk and head to my spot, noticing immediately the little boy from yesterday. He has black hair, comes up to my waist, and is filled with energy. I watch him run around and wrap my arms around my stomach.
The little boy spots me and makes a beeline towards me.
“Hi! Are you our guide?” he asks in an adorable voice.
Grinning, I nod. “I’m Taylor.”
“I know!” he squeals and grabs my hand to lead me somewhere.
I follow, taken aback by this little one’s assuredness. “You know? How do you know? Are you a wizard?” I tease.
“My uncle told me,” he confesses, coming to a stop by the front doors, and turns to me. “Are we going to see any bears? My daddy says no, but my uncle says yes and that they’ll eat me!” He squeals at the end and I laugh.
“I don’t know, we could! But it’s getting pretty late in the season so they’ll be getting ready to sleep for a while.”
“Hibernation,” he nods knowingly, and I raise a brow, impressed.
“That’s the technical term.” I nod.
“I’m six, not dumb. I watch Discovery Channel with Daddy all the time,” he says like I’m the idiot, and I bite my lip to stifle a laugh.
“You do, huh?”
“Yeah, ever since he got back. I want to know what it’s like.”
“What, what’s like?” I ask, confused.
“To be on an island,” he says matter-of-factly, and my blood freezes in my veins.
“What—” I cough, nerves choking me. “What’s your name, bud?”
“I’m Henry, but my uncle calls me Hen.” He smiles up at me and how…how could I not have noticed I’m staring at a mini-East? Jesus…Jesus!
“So you know who I am?” I sink my shaking hands in my pockets.
He nods, black curls flopping. “Yup. You’re Taylor. You saved my daddy’s life.”
I gasp and whip my head around, scanning the crowd for similar black curls. “Where’s your daddy, Henry?”
“He’s over there, he wanted me to break the ice.” Henry waves towards the breakfast room and I spot him immediately with his brother. They both watch from the entrance, one smiling hugely and the other focused on me with an intensity that steals my breath.
“Come on! He wants to see you. He tells me about you all the time. Uncle Carter talks about you too. My daddy says we can’t push you or you’ll run away,” he babbles, dragging me to his family.
“Your daddy says a lot of things, huh?” I choke, startled to hear these things so casually from a child.
I can’t very well dig my heels in on a six-year-old so I follow, feeling like I’ll puke at any second. I can only stare at the green eyes I see every time I close mine. He looks so much better, I think, near tears. His body has filled out.
When I left him, his cheeks were hollowed out, his cheekbones prominently lending to a gaunt look. His skin is still tan, but it’s healthy looking. His hair that went wild on the island is trimmed, gelled with not a strain out of place. He’s beautiful.
The beard, though trimmed, is the same and lends the idea of danger as it shadows his jaw. He looks the same but is a stranger at the same time. God! He looks impeccably dressed and I look like I’ve just woken up. Steeling my nerves, I open my mouth to say hello when East’s face finally breaks the steely look and he drags me into his arms, squeezing me so hard my lungs wheeze.
“God. God, Taylor. I’ve missed you,” he whispers urgently, tucking his face into my neck and inhaling. “You smell different, but you feel the same.”
Laughing awkwardly, I pat his shoulder stiffly. “That’s probably because I’m not sitting in my own stink.”
He leans back, framing my face, and looks at me so thoroughly I start to squirm, patting his arm to let me go.
“Taylor—” he begins, his face softening sympathetically. I’m sure he can see that underneath this new skin is broken glass.
“Carter! You weren’t kidding, huh?” I joke, moving to give him a hug as well.
“About hunting you down? VanHoutens always follow through on a promise.”
“A promise? Weird, I always thought of it as a threat,” I say brightly, completely at odds with my words. I squeeze his arm as hard as I can, satisfied when he flinches. “You don’t think a warning would be appropriate?”
“Well its not like we had your number,” East says from behind me.
“Right, so how were you able to track me down?” I raise a brow, spinning to East.
He flushes slightly and looks down. “Um—”
“How? Was it Jamie?” I push firmly, smiling only when I see Henry start to look confused and move closer to his father.
“We hired a private investigator,” Carter says from behind me at the same time East’s head shoots up with a narrowed look and a muttered, “Jamie?”
“Why bother asking then? Didn’t your private investigator give you a thorough report?”
“I wouldn’t have had to hire one if you didn’t sneak off without any information. What the fu-uh-fudge, Taylor?” he stutters with a quick glance at his son.
I blow my breath out harshly; he had me there. I shrug and look away. “I don’t think this is the time or place to have this discussion.”
East grumbles under his breath and
Carter takes a step forward. “We booked you for the entire day, but I think this time would be better suited talking.”
Crossing my arms, I ask, “What did you have in mind?”
Carter unleashes his most charming grin and I roll my eyes, knowing already I will not like it. “How about we go back to your place?”
“How about we go to your rooms instead?”
East looks sheepishly at his brother before addressing me. “Our reservation is up today.”
“Guess you’ll have to make another one then,” I tell him firmly.
“We were thinking we could stay with you?” He smiles.
“Please! Please, Taylor!” Henry comes forward and grabs my hand, tugging it in his excitement.
“I only have one spare bedroom.”
East rolls his eyes and looks to Carter. “He’ll take the couch.”
Pinching my bottom lip, I realize they aren’t giving up. “Fine. Let’s go.”
I turn around without another word and head out the back to the path through the woods.
“Wait, we need to get our stuff. And our car!” East yells out as I open the large French doors.
“I’m sure your investigator gave you my address,” I counter starchily.
“I’ll go with Taylor!” Henry calls out, and I turn when I hear tiny feet pounding the tiles.
He grabs my hand and I look to East for permission. He gives me a slow nod and I grasp Henry’s hand tightly in my own. Maybe I could fish information from the little doppelganger.
The next half hour is filled with nonstop chatter. Henry tells me everything that’s happened since his dad came home. How East tells him bedtime stories of his time on the island and boat; clearly from what Henry’s repeated, it’s a cleaned up, PG version.
I find myself smiling more in the thirty minutes between we left and when his family arrives than I have in weeks. He’s so lively and trusting. I find myself just watching him as he flings his arms around as he talks. He’s very expressive and honest, something he gets from his father and uncle.