Finding Refuge

by J. P. Oliver

  I felt a heat rise up in my chest.

  Jared Clark, last time I checked, was a shithead.

  Of course, last time I checked was in high school, when he was trying his absolute best to break up me and Curtis before Joe died. Jared was a couple years older, around thirty now, I figured. He was all lean muscle and tired hazel eyes. His hair wasn’t like it used to be, long and sweeping; now it was cropped short and light brown.

  “I thought he moved away?” I muttered, turning back to Joyce. “When did he get back to town?”

  Full lips pulled into a frown. “A few months before school started. He’s the new music teacher at the high school, believe it or not.”

  “You’re shitting me,” I deadpanned.

  “I’m not shitting you. He bought the old Johnson place and everything.”

  That I had to laugh at; the old Johnson place was a farm just south of town, and the whole thing reeked of irony. It was the very farm that Curtis and I had always joked about buying. The plan was to raise and train horses, make a home and business out of that farm. And the very guy who tried to sabotage our relationship was the one living there?

  My lips curled into a grin as I took a sip, because how could you not laugh at how cruel and twisted a joke that was?

  Between runs along the bar, Joyce and Victor were able to catch me up on just about everything that was happening in North Creek, from the highest scandals to the most menial of affairs. I knew the who, what, where, when, and why by the time Victor had finished his second drink. Joyce offered me another drink, but I was still sipping at the first, and told her one was enough. I wasn’t even buzzed, but I would be driving, so: no drink.

  I passed her Victor’s empty glass, exchanging a grin with my brother as he started in on some inconsequential news about who Kat said she saw sneaking into one of the hotel cottages together.

  And then, by some horrible divine intervention, Curtis appeared over Victor’s shoulder. Another ghost I seemed unable to shake.

  “Jesus,” I muttered.

  Victor cocked a brow. “What? I haven’t even gotten to the good part, yet—”

  “No, not you.” I nodded towards the door, and Victor spun around in time to catch Curtis as he sauntered in, all easy and familiar. He was shrugging out of his jacket, the same crisp clothes underneath—probably, he just came from the office—as he made for Jared Clark’s table.

  What the fuck?

  Victor and I both watched as he pulled back the chair across from Jared’s, the two of them greeting each other with warm smiles. Something like jealousy pinched in my chest. I think I even felt my face twitch a little before turning away.

  What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?

  “What?” I asked Victor. “This the reason you brought me here?”

  Victor blinked at me, wide and surprised. “What? No.”

  I hummed, decidedly turning my back on them. “They’re pretty chummy, huh?”

  Victor looked back at their table before following my lead. He gave a half-hearted shrug, signaling to Joyce for some water for us.

  “Well, what’d you expect, Zach?” he asked. “That Curtis would wait his whole life for you to get your head out of your ass?”

  Victor was blunt like that, but it was never malicious. Just straight, unbiased fact. Most of the time, I admired that quality in him—being objective and aware was always useful in a pinch when you needed advice—but this time, I’ll admit it sort of stung.

  Especially because he was right.

  Curtis is moving on.

  The moment I told myself that was the moment I reopened a wound I thought I’d seared shut long ago—but of course I hadn’t closed it. It was still fresh, still hurting, even after all these years. I’d never really tried to close it, I think. I was just always hoping for… what, exactly?

  A new sort of ache formed in my heart.

  What did I expect?

  Curtis had moved on. It was for the best. I couldn’t entertain the idea of Curtis and I anymore or fool myself into thinking I deserved a happy ending.

  4

  Curtis

  Seeing Zach bothered me

  The moment I spotted him, hunched and grinning at the bar with Joyce and his brother, I felt that horrible pang of Oh, no, not him again, please—but I walked it off. Mostly. I played it off like I hadn’t even noticed him as I moved over to Jared’s usual table, all the while feeling their curious—and in Zach’s case, loaded—gazes on me. It all bothered me, but I had to play it off like a real adult in control of their feelings.

  “Hey,” I said, putting on a smile for Jared.

  “Hey,” he greeted easily. “Hope coming over wasn’t too hectic?”

  “No, you kidding?” I let my body weight sink into the chair. “Half of the town’s up at the Savage place, and work was pretty quiet. No trouble at all. Plus,” and I patted the tabletop, “I need a drink.”

  Jared hummed, sipping at his beer. “I’ll bet.”

  He shot me a knowing look, before we both turned to look at the stretch of bar decorated with little lights in bottles and bistro lights that reflected off the array of top-shelf alcohol.

  Naturally, magnetically, my eyes went to Zach.

  He glanced away from me. All of his body language told a story—I still knew him, as much as I sometimes wish I didn’t anymore—and that story was that he was either jealous or just straight-up didn’t approve of me hanging around Jared. I could get why, what with our past, but that was high school. This was adulthood. Jared had changed, and Zach would know that if he hadn’t run away from North Creek.

  Since his great escape, Jared and I kept in touch after graduation. A lot of things changed after Joe, and Jared was one of them. He got out of North Creek, too, headed out to Nashville to pursue music and go to school. While he was out that way, he got hitched and had a kid. Had a family. Grew up a little.

  We were acquaintances through all that, but we got really close once his wife passed away. Understandably, he was a mess after her, with a kid and no sense of direction anymore. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through, losing the person he’d planned on being with forever, but the least I could do was be a friend to him; after all, I was the one who convinced him to move back to North Creek—to family. Call it luck, call it perfect timing, but a position for a music teacher at the high school opened up for him. Jared had always had a home here, and when he came back, he had a friend in me, too.

  My gaze slid sideways again to Zach.

  Jealous.

  The word flickered red-hot in my mind, but I pushed it away, snuffing out its fire. I didn’t care about what Zach thought—if he was jealous or confused or disapproving—because we weren’t together anymore. And Zach had made it abundantly clear we would never be again.

  I could have drinks with whatever friends I wanted to.

  Speaking of….

  “Mind if I grab a sip of that?” I asked, nodding towards Jared’s barely touched bottle.

  He slid it my way and I took a swig, the hoppy taste melting into my tongue. I sighed happily and slid it back. It was just a sip, but even the taste could be like a placebo, helping to take the edge off with all the weird tension in the bar.

  “So,” Jared said. “We gonna just pretend the elephant in the room isn’t in the room at all, or?”

  I leveled him with a disinterested glare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  With a laugh, he raised his bottle. “Good one.”

  I grumbled. “Actually, I might need my own drink tonight.”

  “Well, in the meantime—” and Jared did me a solid, signaling to one of the nearby waitresses to grab another of whatever he was having, “—I’m guessing you two haven’t talked yet.”

  “Actually, we did. I was on-call at the Savage’s place seeing about his dad, but I ran into him before I could make a hasty getaway. So much for avoiding him at all costs, huh?”

  “Hah! Yeah, maybe, Curtis. Maybe, though,
that’s the universe telling you something.”

  “What? That I should slug him?” I asked. “Because that’s definitely what my heart was telling me when we talked for a literal minute.”

  We both paused as the waitress set down another bottle, and I thanked her with a smile. I thumbed the lime down the neck of the bottle and took a long sip.

  “Well, tell me: he back in town for good?”

  I huffed, lips curling. “No. That ship sailed long ago when he walked out—”

  “No, no—not in a romantic way,” Jared corrected gently. “I mean in town. ‘Cause if he’s around for good, you’ll have to make nice at some point, or North Creek’s gonna get real impossible real quick—”

  “Oh. No. Not that either.”

  We both took a sip.

  I cleared my throat, deciding to ignore the intense desire to look over at Zach again. I was here with my friend, and I was here for business.

  “Speaking of all things new to North Creek,” I said, lowering my voice just a smidge. Jared leaned his chin in his hand, attentive. “When I got back to the office, Sara told me that some developer had been snooping around, asking a ton of questions. She had a few choice words for him—mostly she called him ‘fucking snake,’ or some variation, but I think his name—”

  “Edward Morris,” Jared finished.

  I blinked at him. “Fuck, did he—”

  “Yup.” He let out a laugh without much humor, glancing at the pool table as someone broke into another game with a stony crack “That fucking asshat already came around my place, too. Made an offer and everything on the Johnson property, which is fucked up, because I didn’t see him before he made the offer. That means he was snooping around, and I didn’t even know it.”

  I cringed. “Jesus Christ.”

  “Right? I told him off, though.” Jared grinned, proud. “Specifically, I told him to fuck off. I like North Creek the way it is: full of townies and stuck in the twenties.”

  We both laughed and clinked our bottles together, the brownish glass glinting in the low yellowed lights.

  “Cheers to that.”

  “God.” Jared shook his head. “I don’t want my kid to grow up and see this place change too much. We’ve always been sorta… insular, you know, but it’s a good place to get raised in. I don’t wanna see it turn into some corporate hellscape.”

  “Tell me about it.” I didn’t have any children of my own yet, but I could relate. “Apparently he was talking about building a hospital or something. It’d put me out of business.”

  “So tell him where to put his business,” Jared said. “Next time he comes around. I’m sure Sara would love to be the one to tell him.”

  “Oh, I’m sure.”

  “Funny thing is, though, I fucking hated this place when I was younger.” Jared rolled his eyes. “Teenage angst. I thought this was a nowhere place.”

  “And then you moved to Nashville.”

  “And then I moved to Nashville. Don’t get me wrong, the city ain’t so bad—”

  I wrinkled my nose, far preferring the humdrum and bustling, rowdy Speakeasy to the loud, anonymous noise of the city.

  With a laugh, he waved me off. “I know, I know. Shut up, country boy, I’m telling a story.”

  “All right. Shutting up.”

  “Nashville was nice and all, but this place—I didn’t appreciate it when I was younger. All the people have roots here. It’s a community.”

  “I know.” I took a sip and grinned. “Plus, there are so many North Creek rites of passage that you can’t get anywhere else, especially in a city. I mean, you remember all the stupid shit we all used to do.”

  “Do I?”

  “I’m sure you do. You weren’t drunk all the time.”

  Jared hummed. “Sure. I remember jumping off the ledges at the quarry. Thought I was gonna die halfway down, the jump’s so big.”

  “Yes, I loved the quarry. I smoked my first cigarette there.”

  “Watch out, we got a bad boy.”

  Sharing a laugh, I looked away, out at the bar’s crowd. My eyes fluttered naturally to Zach. Always. It was always him. I felt the urge to force my gaze elsewhere before I became obvious, but I let it linger.

  Ironically, at that very moment, Linger by the Cranberries started playing.

  I groaned, looking away. “Who the hell put this on?”

  “Y’know, Curtis,” Jared started, almost cautious in the way one would be if they were approaching a hurt little bird. “If you want Zach back, you have to do it right.”

  “Yeah….”

  “Just talking won’t do that trick. You know him, he’s an idiot.”

  I grinned, glancing over at him again. “You and Sara been talking?”

  Jared shook his head, chuckling. “No. We just both know Zach Savage. Now, listen. If you want him back, you’re gonna have to multitask, right?”

  “Okay?”

  He leaned in, like we were discussing some secret battle plan. “You have to break down those big ugly walls he’s got up around him, right? But—you’re also gonna have to push him up against those walls while you’re doing it. Y’know. Seduce him a little. He’s a meathead, and meatheads understand physicality; body language. Make him realize what he gave up.”

  I felt a little flush crawl along my neck at the prospect of seduction. We used to flirt and make moves on each other all the time in high school, yeah, but seduction as an adult was totally different. I glanced over at him through the thick of the milling crowd, catching his features in the soft bar lights and feeling warm; what would that entail exactly? Flirting with Zach or hooking up or—

  Whoa, okay. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.

  “Plus, Joe’s death seemed to hit him harder for some reason,” Jared added, expression flickering a little. His eyes got all empathetic. “Not that it didn’t hit you, but… he took it harder than the rest of us. Seems like he’s still taking it hard, if you ask me.”

  That’s because he blames himself for Joe’s death.

  I knew it was the truth, but I wouldn’t tell Jared that. He was a friend, but some things were still private, still sacred. No one else knew Zach was the one driving that night except me and his brother, I think. At a party full of wasted people, Zach was the least boozed up and the closest possible thing to a passable driver. Joe was trashed and insisted. He would have driven himself if he didn’t make Zach do it. But shitty circumstances didn’t matter to Zach—he’d always bear the guilt of the accident. It wasn’t something that bore repeating. Wasn’t something any of us liked to relive, let alone think about.

  Not that any of us could help it, Zach especially.

  I looked over at Zach, feeling a pang of something for him. I don’t know if it was longing or guilt or sympathy or what. All I know was that it hurt, like most things with Zach did.

  Tearing down Zach’s walls. It seemed an improbable feat, but not impossible. To make him understand it wasn’t his fault and that he wasn’t the only one who loved and lost Joe—it was a tempting thought.

  “Or,” Jared added saucily, happy to make the mood a little lighter.

  I glanced up at him, eyes curious as he leaned in close and put his hand in mine. He was positioning himself like people did at the theater, playing out to an audience.

  That audience was Zach Savage.

  “I could always help make Zach jealous,” he teased. “Maybe that’d get him to get his head out of his ass already.”

  I let out a loud laugh, tossing my head back like it was absolutely fucking hilarious, knowing that the happy sound had carried through the bar.

  All the sadness and hurt—it was there, but Jared was right. Zach needed to get over it and get his head out of his ass. If this—if letting him think I’d moved on—was part of it, well, then where was the harm in that?

  5

  Zach

  “Your father has cancer.”

  I swallowed and nodded, feeling almost numb everywhere except my chest
, which was a rush of emotion. I looked at my hands where they were linked in my lap, processing, processing—cancer.

  “Zach?”

  I looked up at Sara. She was dressed in light purple scrubs, a stethoscope slung around her neck. I felt like I could see every detail on her face, all the things I’d never noticed before. I felt hyperaware of everything, actually—the little notches in the wallpaper and the slow thrum of the vent fan, the ticking of the clock.

  “Yeah,” I exhaled.

  Her lips pursed, eyes swimming with sympathy. “You all right?”

  “Yeah.” I shook my head in a futile effort to clear it. “Uh… what kind?”

  “Pancreatic. Stage IV.”

  “Okay. What does that mean, exactly? For him—”

  “It’s not uncommon for pancreatic to go undetected until it’s in Stage IV. It’s a late-stage cancer, and it’s always a possibility that someone’s body might respond well to treatment, but no guarantee,” Sara offered quietly. “I know this can be… really hard to hear.”

  Hard was an understatement, but I’d come here to hear it straight from her. Technically, Curtis was my father’s doctor, but I didn’t want to talk to him. Sara was a family friend anyway, so hearing the official diagnosis from her was fine. I trusted her.

  “How long has he… I mean, do you guys know how long he’s had it for?”

  Sara shook her head slowly. “Hard to say. Like I said, it’s a tough one to catch in the beginning stages. And I mean, you know your dad. He’s too proud and stubborn to come in for regular check-ups. He didn’t even have any symptoms worth mentioning, he said, until recently. By the time your mom was able to convince him to come in, it had... spread.”

  I huffed, leaning back in my chair. We were seated in the triage room; it was quiet enough that they didn’t need it, and it seemed appropriate to talk about this someplace private.

  “For what it’s worth, Zach,” she said, closing his chart, “I’m really sorry.”

  “Thanks, Sara.”

  “I mean it.”

  “I do, too.” I shot her a small grin. “I know you guys are doing everything you can.”