Stay With Me

by Cross, Cassie

  “You look awful,” she says sympathetically enough that it isn’t offensive.

  I plop down in the seat that’s on the other side of her desk and rub my eyes. “I feel awful.”

  She pauses, pursing her lips. I can tell she wants the answer to a question that she isn’t sure she should ask.

  “It didn’t go so well last night,” I tell her. “We had a fight.”

  “Is it too nosy if I ask what it was about?”

  Since everyone in our well-meaning friend group had a big hand in getting Jackson and I to a place where we could even have a fight about staying together, I figure she has a right to know something.

  “He thinks I don’t know what I’m getting into as far as the…depth of his injuries go. He doesn’t think I understand how bad it can get, and doesn’t believe me when I tell him that it doesn’t matter to me…I just want to be with him.”

  “Oh Jackson,” she says under her breath, then she levels me with an appraising look.

  “What?” I ask, uncomfortable under her gaze.

  “Don’t be offended, I just thought…well, I thought if there was going to be a hold up, it would’ve been on your end.”

  I make a noise that comes out halfway between a laugh and a sob. “Growth, I guess.”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  I shrug. “Give him some time? He was hung up on this before, the first time we broke up. And….I don’t think his problem is really with me. It’s something he has to work out on his own, so I’m…I’m going to give him the space to do that.”

  She cocks her brow. “You sure that’s the right thing to do?”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t think pressuring him is the right thing to do, either. I told him want I wanted last night, and now it’s up to him to decide if that’s something that he’s willing to give. I’ve waffled back and forth on it all night, and…that’s how I feel about it. For now.”

  Ayanna’s smile is beaming. “I’m really proud of you, Birdie.”

  “Thanks. This is awful, but that helps.”

  She laughs. “Are you going to leave your suitcase here?”

  “I was thinking about it. No use in lugging it to New York just to bring it back again. And that way next time I come I can bring another suitcase full of my stuff.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  I manage my first grin of the day.

  “Were you up all night thinking about this?”

  “No. I cried for about an hour, debated about going to Jackson’s cabin for about an hour, then spent the rest of the night writing. There was no way I was going to be able to sleep after…everything, and I wound up being really productive. I should probably talk to someone about the fact that emotional turmoil really gets my creative juices flowing. That’s pretty messed up, although my agent’s gonna be pleased when I meet her for lunch later.”

  Ayanna smiles. “This world would be a really boring place if everyone was emotionally healthy all the time,” she reassures me.

  “There is one thing I wanted to leave with Jackson, and I’m running out of time since Audrey told me we need to leave at seven to make it to the airport on time.”

  “What is it?”

  I reach into the side pocket of my laptop bag and pull out a thumb drive. “Can I print something? Actually, it’s more like somethings. And I’m definitely gonna have to buy you some new ink when it’s finished.”

  Ayanna gets out of her chair and holds out her hand, offering me a seat. “I have spares.”

  I insert my drive into one of her laptop’s USB ports and pull up the documents I’m looking for. A nervous rush bolts through my stomach, but I ignore it. Even though I’m full of doubt about how I handled things with Jackson and what I should do next, this? This I’m sure about.

  I let out a deep breath as I send the first of many documents to the printer. “Here we go.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  As Audrey pours a couple of coffees for us to take with us on the road, I head over to Jackson’s cabin with a huge stack of papers tucked under my arm. I don’t know if the gesture will make any difference, but my gut tells me it’s the right thing to do.

  The screen door creaks as I pull it open and step onto the porch. I’m surprised the cabin is dead silent. I can usually make out the excited scraping of Sam’s claws against the floor whenever he hears someone coming. I knock on the door and there’s no response. Maybe Jackson’s taken him on a walk?

  I sit down, deciding to wait a minute or two to see if they come back. The time passes like an eternity, and I don’t see any sign of them anywhere on the trail around the lake. My something is not right here senses start tingling, and a bundle of nerves nestles itself in my stomach, making me uneasy.

  Maybe he was in the shower?

  I get up and knock again. I wait and wait. Still….nothing. My heart pounds, anxious energy flooding my my veins, making my limbs feel light and tingly.

  “Birdie!” Audrey yells, running toward the cabin. She never moves this fast, so I know something must be wrong. Is Jackson passed out in the main house or something? I’m panicking and she hasn’t even told me what’s going on yet.

  “What?”

  “He’s gone.”

  The words don’t process. It’s like she’s speaking a completely different language.

  “What do you mean he’s gone?”

  “His truck isn’t in the parking lot. He’s not here.”

  I step over to the window, lean in and cup my hands around my eyes so I can see inside. My stomach drops, leaving a hollow ache. Jackson’s suitcase is gone. Sam’s bed is gone, his water and food dishes are gone. The only sign that someone had been there at all is the wrinkled comforter on the bed. He hadn’t even pulled the sheets back last night. There’s a few dollars tip for the housekeeper on the nightstand. His phone charger is still plugged into the wall, the cable flopped out across the floor like a snake.

  I expected him to be angry, but I didn’t expect him to leave.

  I drop onto the chair and set the papers in my lap as Audrey steps onto the porch.

  “Are you okay? Do you think everything’s okay?”

  I take a deep breath and sigh. “Well, I know he didn’t pass out and die on a run somewhere in the woods, so that’s good. But I didn’t…I didn’t think our fight last night was bad enough that he’d take off. He’s never done that before. Maybe I…” I shake my head, blinking back tears. Was I too hard on him? Was I being unfair?

  I pull my phone out of my pocket and call him. It rings and rings and winds up going to voicemail over and over and over again.

  Of course he isn’t going to answer. His charger’s on the floor in his room and it’s probably dead by now.

  “He lets his phone die all the time,” Audrey says, trying to reassure me. “This doesn’t mean anything. Guy’s a luddite when it comes to cell phones. Why don’t we go ask Ayanna if she’s seen him?”

  I follow Audrey to the main house like a zombie. If Ayanna had seen him, she would’ve said so. We ask anyway.

  “I haven’t. Why?”

  “He’s not here,” Audrey says. “His truck is gone.”

  “He packed up and left.” My voice is hoarse. “His suitcase is gone. Sam’s stuff is gone.”

  “Did you try calling him?”

  I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Of course I have. “Yes.”

  Either he’s not answering because he doesn’t want to talk to me, or his phone is in desperate need of a charge.

  “Should I wake Miranda and Mateo?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “No. They had a big night last night, and this is the last day of their vacation. Let them rest. Ask them if they’ve heard from him when they get up, and send me a text?”

  Ayanna nods. “You’re still gonna go?”

  “I have a meeting with my agent that I can’t miss. I’ve blown her off twice already, and this time I’ve actually made some progress that I want to tell her about. I
t’s not like I can go after him. I decided to give him some space before I knew he took off. Maybe that’s…maybe it’s still my best plan of action.”

  “Okay.” Ayanna says, looking at Audrey like she’s hoping they can formulate some kind of reason why this isn’t as bad as it seems. “At least he knows you’re coming back to stay here, so maybe—”

  “He doesn’t,” I say, swiping at a tear that falls. “I hadn’t gotten the chance to tell him. I figured we’d talk about it when we were working out what comes next, but…well, we all know how that turned out.”

  Audrey comfortingly rubs my back.

  I take the papers and shove them in my bag, then grab a tissue from Ayanna’s desk and wipe my face.

  “C’mon,” I say, nodding toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Part of me expects to run into Jackson on the roads of Dandelion Gap, pass by his truck at the gas station, or on his way back from town. Maybe he’d have a simple explanation, and we could laugh and make up and I wouldn’t leave for New York with everything so unresolved and awful.

  When that doesn’t happen, a new hope takes root in my chest. I imagine a grand, romantic gesture. Jackson surprises me at the airport and tells me we can work it out, that he loves me and doesn’t want to lose me. It’s a quick storybook fix, but I’m a romance writer. I can’t help myself.

  Audrey tries talking me down. “He just didn’t charge his phone. It’s not that bad.”

  “He took off without saying goodbye, so…it’s definitely that bad.” I can’t think about that now. I have a career that I need to get back on track and I absolutely cannot talk myself out of leaving for my lunch meeting today. Things will be fine until the late afternoon, when I’ll be more able to focus on my next move with Jackson.

  If there even is one.

  I change the subject to talk about Audrey, ask her how her paintings of the B&B are going. She promises to have the one of the gazebo finished for me by the time I come back down, and talks about how excited Ayanna was at the idea of displaying them for sale in the main house. She’s so happy that it pulls me right back into the moment and drives all thoughts of Jackson out of my head.

  We make plans to get together once I come back down to stay with Ayanna. It’s nice, having something to look forward to. New York doesn’t have the appeal to me that it used to. It’s amazing how quickly the shine can wear off, after a week spent with my best friends in a place I truly love. The thought of going back now leaves a hollow pit inside me, because I’m returning to a life that I know is better somewhere else.

  When we get to the airport, surprise! No Jackson.

  I think I hide my disappointment well.

  Audrey and I say our goodbyes, and she does a good job of not being overly sappy and sentimental about it. She assures me that everything’s going to work out just fine, and I really want to believe her. I figure that should count for something.

  I get through security and check my phone for probably the thousandth time since I left the B&B. A nervous rush hits me when I see three missed texts.

  They’re from Miranda:

  Haven’t seen or heard from Jackson this morning. :(

  If I do, he’ll never hear the end of this. Asshole.

  I love you.

  I can’t help but smile, even as I swallow down the ache of leaving things like this.

  Since I have nothing to do but wait, I decide to put my time to good use. I pull out my laptop, open my writing program, and pick up where I left off.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  My plane is delayed about 45 minutes on the runway due to some air traffic control issues. Once I land, an accident brings traffic to a halt on the Brooklyn Bridge, so I wind up being late to lunch with my agent. Luckily she’s easygoing and has a glass of wine and an appetizer while she reads manuscripts at the table waiting for me.

  She’s barely annoyed by the wait, and is placated by the progress I’ve made on my next book. She asks how I’m doing, probably because I look like something that got pulled out of a drain. Makeup isn’t doing much to fix that.

  She tells me to get some rest and that she likes my chapters.

  That’s one humongous weight off my chest.

  I continuously check my phone on the ride back to my apartment. There’s nothing from Jackson, but there are a couple of messages from Audrey and Ayanna asking me how my meeting went.

  I type responding messages with a huge grin.

  Walking back into my apartment feels like entering someone else’s home. It smells stuffy, it’s a little too hot, and nothing feels right because the people I love most in the world are a couple hundred miles away.

  I do what I always do when a bout of melancholy hits: I flop down onto my bed and stare at the ceiling. Usually this tactic works to clear my mind, but today it just makes me focus on all the things that are wrong in my life, instead of the ones that are right.

  And it finally hits me, deep and hard, like an anvil slamming into me at full force.

  I don’t want to be here anymore.

  Home is where my friends are, and making my way alone in a new city is one of the reasons why I’ve felt so lost these past few years. I don’t want to sit here checking my phone for texts from Jackson when I can—hopefully, if I can find him—talk to him face-to-face. I thought leaving him alone to process things was the right thing to do, but being in the middle of this without a resolution feels wrong.

  I can’t rest until I know he’s okay, and I can’t do that here.

  I go into my closet and pull out the only other suitcase I have. I plop it open on my bed, grab armfuls of clothes that are still on their hangers, and shove everything that will fit inside. I have room for some shoes, so a few pairs make it in there too. I find an old plastic grocery bag in my kitchen and dump everything from my shower and vanity in there, tie it up tight, and smoosh it into my suitcase.

  Sure, I have to sit on the lid to get it closed, but I’m ready to go in record time.

  Next, all I have to do is book a plane ticket back to DC. If I can’t get a flight, I’ll take a cab to Penn Station and hop on a train. I just can’t sit still and wait tonight; I have to be proactive.

  I luck into a $50 one-way last-minute fare, but the flight doesn’t leave for another couple of hours. If I’m lucky, I can get back to LaGuardia with time to spare.

  With an unladylike grunt, I pull my ten ton suitcase onto the floor and drag it across my apartment. Definitely getting a spinner next time. I open the door and lose my grip on the handle when I see Jackson in front of me.

  He looks terrible; worse than I do if that’s even possible.

  “I can explain,” he says, his eyes pleading. “Can I come in?”

  * * *

  Jackson sits on my couch, nearly folded over on himself. It’s a little too low for a tall guy like him, and the placement of the coffee table leaves him without the kind of legroom he desperately needs. I could easily move it, but since he’s left me wondering where he is all day I decide to let him suffer a bit.

  The couch is upholstered in a plush, light pink velvet that’s comfortable enough to sleep on—and I do, often—but Jackson looks incredibly out of place on it.

  If I wasn’t so angry at him, I’d laugh.

  “How did you get into the building?” I ask, breaking the eternity of silence. “Better yet, how did you even know where I live?”

  He scrubs his hands over his face with a deep sigh. “One of your neighbors was leaving. She held the door open for me so I didn’t have to buzz in, which is…irresponsible. As for how I got your address? Ayanna gave it to me.”

  Ayanna did what? “When?”

  “This morning when I got back to the B&B.”

  Wait, what?

  “Got back? Why did you have to go back? Disappearing without so much as a note and taking your stuff with you and going completely MIA and not answering your phone sent the message loud and clear.”

  “I did leave you
a note. I stuck it to the inside of your patio door, but Ayanna found it behind a planter. It must’ve fallen off in the humidity,” he says. “I left in a hurry this morning. I thought I’d make it back before you left, although I knew I’d be cutting it close. That’s why I took all my stuff with me. I wanted to drive you to the airport and hoped that we could talk on the way. As for my phone dying, I don’t really have an excuse for that. I just…had to see you. I knew we needed to work this out face-to-face and I wanted to do that as soon as possible, so I left Sam with Ayanna, drove to Union Station and got on the first train up here.”

  I’ve had a lot to process over the past few minutes, so I’m having difficulty sorting out my thoughts. “What was so important that you had to take off before dawn? And where in the hell did you go?”

  He glances up with a heavy, important look in his eyes. “I went to see my old academic advisor.”

  Okay, that knocks the breath right out of me. “Come again?”

  Jackson reaches out, offering me his hand. I give him a wary look, because I think a little distance is probably better for me during this conversation, depending on what it brings. But…he came all the way up here to clear the air, so I guess whatever he’s going to tell me can’t be that bad.

  I reach out and place my hand in his, and he gently pulls me over to sit across from him on the coffee table. He keeps his fingers wrapped around mine, seeming to need the connection.

  “What you told me last night? About making excuses and acting like my life ended after the accident? I have been doing that. I’ve been doing it for a long time, and it’s a miserable way to exist. I want a life and a future with you. Running away and going back to DC like both of those things are impossible to have is a coward’s way out, and I’m no coward.”