by J. P. Oliver
I threw open the door.
Zach followed. I heard his limping steps and felt his fingers brush my arm.
“Just—do whatever you want, Zach,” I said, pulling my arm away. “Not like you haven’t always done that anyway.”
19
Zach
None of this was going the way I’d planned it.
When the door shut behind Curtis, it felt like the period at the end of a sentence: final and unfixable. I stared at it for a moment, shocked by what had just happened. I’d expected resistance, obviously, but for him to just walk out? My heart was breaking in two seeing him leave.
That’s how he felt when you left, some masochistic part of my mind told me. That’s how he felt hearing you were going back.
I needed to fix things with him. Explain it all better—I just hoped he would listen.
Rushing out the door, words of apology on my tongue, I felt them fizzle out in my mouth as I watched his car pull away, headlights swerving into the tangled darkness of the woods. Too little, too late.
I fucked up.
I sank, my heart throbbing in my chest as I sat on the guest house porch, eyes glued to the last place I’d been able to see his lights. I’d fucked this up like I had fucked everything up in my life, and this time it would have been such a simple fix. All I had to do was tell the goddamn truth, but I was too afraid and now Curtis was gone.
I needed to be honest. I needed to let him know.
I did none of that. Sure, I told him that first time we spoke in the driveway that I’d be returning to Virginia—that I had to go back—but I guess that wasn’t the whole truth. Just a piece of something that turned into a lie.
Everything after felt like a daze. Like part of my brain was in suspended animation. I didn’t want to think, I didn’t want to feel. I just wanted to not exist for a flickering second, to not have to deal with the consequences of everything.
Inside, I found a bottle of whiskey.
Usually it was just kept around for guests who wanted a nice little drink. Tonight, I poured myself a glass and sat in my chair at the table, staring after the door, unfocused.
He’s not coming back.
You did this to yourself.
It was all coming back, coming up hot and strong and ripe. Thoughts of Curtis walking out melted into thoughts of me walking out on him, morphed into memories of what we used to have when we were young and simpler and less damaged, morphed into memories of Joe.
I was getting lost in the maze of it. Walls of an impossible height twisted and turned in my mind: Joe, Curtis, leaving, leaving Curtis, losing Joe, never seeing both of them again, how empty that would be, how empty I already felt without him, without them….
I don’t know how long I just sat there, but by the time I came out of my own head, it was to the sound of someone knocking. My pulse picked up and I hoped against hope that it was Curtis.
Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe the drive had cleared his head some—
“I’m letting myself in!” a woman’s voice announced. When the door opened, it was Beth on the other side, looking concerned. “Hey.”
I bet I looked pitiful, alone with a glass of whiskey. What a cliché.
“Hey.”
Beth blew out a breath, surveying me. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“I feel like I’m about to become one.”
She stared at me a long while, chewing the inside of her cheek. Behind her in the porch light, little moths and bugs were throwing themselves against the light. The nights were getting muggier; the bugs were getting plentiful.
“Please don’t say ‘I told you so.’”
Beth considered that and shut the door behind her. She pulled the other chair out—Curtis’s chair—and took the glass away from me. Before I could ask, she was tipping her head back and downing the rest in one go.
She shook her head, face pinching at the burn of it. It was one of our family’s distillery’s older brews. She pointed to the cabinet and told me, “Go grab another glass, will you?”
My entire body felt like it was full of lead, but I did it.
Beth poured both of us a drink and passed me mine cautiously. “Something happened.”
I huffed, grinning. “How could you tell?”
“I was coming over to see Mom, but I passed Curtis on the road. He didn’t wave—I don’t even think he noticed it was me he was passing. So I figured something was up.”
I nodded slowly. Where to even start?
“I tried to tell him about Virginia,” I said. “Really, I did. I tried to tell him that I wasn’t going to reenlist and that I just had to make it through—we just had to make it through six months apart and then that’d be it, forever, done. I’d be back in North Creek for good with you guys and with him….”
“But?” she asked. “I’m guessing that didn’t go so well.”
“No. He got up and left.”
Beth sucked her teeth. “Yikes.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, bringing the whiskey to my lips. “My thoughts exactly.”
“Well, if you want my advice—”
“I do.”
Beth paused, smiling. She had her life together; of course I wanted her advice.
“If you want my advice,” she repeated softly, “I would tell you that Curtis is emotional.”
“I know that.”
“But, he’s a doctor. He’s a man of science and reason—emphasis on the reason. I think what you said probably confirmed a lot of doubts he was having. I don’t mean this in a shit way when I say it, but you’ve given him reason to worry in the past.”
I frowned. “I know—”
“But, if you’ll let me finish.” She grinned. “We all make mistakes. We all fuck up because we’re all human. Curtis knows that. He’s as human as the rest of us. He wants the same things you want: love. Understanding. I think he just needs time to process this and… react before you two can talk this out for real. I think he freaked out, but I think he’ll listen the next time you two sit down and have a conversation about it.”
She pointed a finger at me from around her glass. “And it needs to be an honest conversation, Zach.”
I nodded slowly, processing the advice. Beth was right, and while it wasn’t just an instant fix, it was something. A hope that this wasn’t over; that he would calm down and we could find a way to hash this out as adults. He just needed time.
“Yeah,” I said. “Okay. I can give him time.”
“Exactly.”
With a deep sigh, I drained the rest of my drink. “The next six months are going to be absolute shit.”
A wrinkle in her nose, Beth reached across to hold my hand on the table. “Probably, Zach. Probably.”
I groaned.
“But you’ll get through it,” she soothed. “You’re my tough-as-hell big brother. You always come out alive on the other side. And Curtis will be here when you get back.”
“Maybe,” I huffed, not believing a word of it. “If I haven’t lost him for good.”
Starting in on a sip, she paused. “Mm—you didn’t hear this from me, but he’s only ever had eyes for you, Zach. There’s not a man in town who holds a candle to you in Curtis’s mind.”
I felt warmth curl through me. I wanted to believe that was true. If I was going to make it through these next six months alone, I needed to believe that.
I would do it. I would go to Virginia and come out clean, come back to North Creek with a fresh slate, and sweep Curtis Walker off his feet one more time.
When I woke the next morning, I had two hangovers: a vague sort of headache from the alcohol, and a much stronger one from the heartache. Ibuprofen could only fix one of them.
As I prepared to leave, packing my duffel with the few things I’d brought to North Creek, it was only a bitter feeling. Two weeks ago, I was nervous to come back home, but now the thought of leaving it was like an anvil on my chest. As I packed, I left Curtis’s things untouched, and knowing that he’d
be alone in this house when he got back tonight was the very worst part of it.
I said goodbye to everyone. Goodbye to Mom and Dad, who I hoped against hope that I would see again at the end of this. I said goodbye to Victor and Beth and Robert. The only person that was missing was Curtis.
The taxi was waiting for me at the end of the driveway, and as I swung my bag high on my shoulder, it felt like I had the weight of the world inside. This all felt wrong, but there was no other choice. I had to see this through. Come out alive on the other side—for the sake of us.
As I crawled into the cab to take me to the airport, I had only one man on my mind. Against all better judgment and every breakup-related piece of advice ever given, I pulled out my phone for one final text:
‘I’m on my way to the airport. I just wanted you to know. I’ll be back this time.’
The cab peeled away from the lawn, and I waved goodbye to my family from where they hollered and waved on the porch. The dogwood and maple trees sprung up until I couldn’t see them or the house I’d grown up in anymore.
Curtis never texted me back. I didn’t expect him to.
20
Curtis
It was the dead-end of a Tennessee summer.
Fall was right around the corner, and it had been three whole months since I had last seen the likes of Zach Savage. Without him, life had gone on, though at first it felt like recovering from the loss of him would be impossible. Breakups were the worst, but a breakup you’d seen coming—that you’d been afraid of, even when you weren’t together—was worse somehow. When left, he took a piece of me with him: something vital.
But life had gone on. It had to. I kept on living in the guest house with the memory of where his things used to be next to mine. I kept going to work every day with Sara.
“Hey.”
I glanced up at her in my doorway before looking back at the papers; just some basic paperwork, a piece of the everyday monotony. “Hey?”
“I just got off the phone with Kat Cross.”
“Oh? How’s she doing?”
“Fine.”
“That’s good.”
“Zach is coming home today,” she said, as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on me.
I tried not to react. Maybe it didn’t reach my face, but the irritation leached into my voice. “I don’t really care what Zach does.”
“That’s a crock of shit.”
I scowled at her.
She remained totally unaffected. “Look, it’s none of my business what you two get up to, but take my advice—”
“Unsolicited advice—”
“—and get your head out of your ass. You care, and Zach didn’t have a choice. It’s not like it’s fucking summer camp, Curtis, it’s the United States Navy, okay, he had to go back.”
I knew she was right, but that wasn’t the point anymore. It was the principle of being hurt, of Zach having fucked up. Zach had apologized for it dozens of times in his letters to me, which was insane and romantic and killing me, because who even wrote letter anymore? What was this, The Notebook? Of course, I didn’t reply to any of them; I didn’t know what to say, and I was afraid of being hurt again.
“Anyway—”
She set a small box on my desk. A very familiar small box.
I plucked it up and examined it, disbelief and too many questions creeping in as I realized: this was mine, something I’d owned three months ago, before the fire.
“Where did you get this?”
Sara quirked a brow, as if to say, ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ before turning on her heel and walking out. I stared at the little ring box, not daring to open it. I felt the weight of what was inside, but wasn’t ready to look at it just yet, so I put it in my desk and took a much needed deep breath.
I needed to do something; to get far away from the ring.
Appointments, I thought feverishly. I’ll check.
I hurried to the front, my brain clouded over with a swirling storm of conflicting thoughts. Old feelings were rushing to the surface. I picked up the chart and let my eyes skim over the names and times, not actually reading any of them. Suddenly, I was dreading the idea of going home; my place had been renovated in the past three months, as spring turned to summer, and for the last week, I was officially moved back in. It was a process, refurnishing it and making it feel like home again.
I was alone there. It was too empty and quiet without Zach to come home to.
I heard the door open in the front and, noting that there were no appointments scheduled for at least the next half hour, I figured it was either an emergency or someone just coming in early. I turned down the hall to greet them, freezing in middle of the empty waiting room.
“Edward.”
It was a nightmare come to life. My hands curled into fists at my sides, ready to swing.
His mouth curled into a sickening, crazed little smile. “So you do remember me, Dr. Walker?”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked, sparing the niceties. “You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve showing up in North Creek again after what you pulled.”
He huffed a little laugh. “North Creek. God, you people are all so fucking self-righteous. North Creek this, North Creek that—this place is a piss-poor excuse for a little village and it’s full of people who just jack off over how pleasant it is, when you’re really all just a bunch of backwoods rednecks. All your land’s good for is profit.”
“Get out.”
“I don’t think so.”
My hand shot into my pocket, whipping out my phone. Wyatt’s cell phone number was only a button away, and 911 was only three. Either way, Edward wouldn’t be around for very much longer at this rate.
His quickness took me by surprise. With a shout, he lunged at me and knocked the phone from my hands, sending it tumbling to the carpeted floor. I grabbed at his collar as he grabbed at mine, both of us going for a punch. It was a tangled mess as I elbowed him in the jaw, and he threw me back—giving enough space and time for him to pull a gun from a holster hidden in his cheap polyester suit.
I froze, hands going up.
He licked the corner of his mouth, grinning. “Yeah. That’s right. Now you’ll listen to me, won’t you?”
“Edward—”
“You! Fucked! Up! My! Life!” He kicked one of the chairs over in a fit of rage. “You and your stupid boyfriend and all you dumbfucks screwed me! I had one task and you made it impossible, and you know what?” He shook the gun at me. “I got fired. All this stupid historical bullshit with the Speakeasy and the empty lot—those FBI bastards are still crawling all over that place, by the way. Know how I know?”
I shook my head.
“I cased it. They go there every damn day, digging what was supposed to be my project, my land. But you took it away from me—”
“Edward, just put the gun down. Please.”
“Or what?” He smiled, clearly out of his mind. “You’ll shoot me?”
His laughter sent chills down my spine.
“You’ll fucking shoot me, is that it?”
“No, but we can talk—”
“I’m done talking! All I wanted to do was talk, but you people wouldn’t let me. Get out, you told me. Get out, get out, get out. Well, now I’m here and you can’t make me leave!”
I nodded, the fear making every movement feel disjointed, tense. “Okay. Okay. We can talk now.”
“No,” Edward muttered. “It’s too late.”
“It’s never too late—”
“It is!”
“No, Edward—” I shut myself up as he brandished the gun.
I saw the flickering outline of a person before I saw just who it was. When his face came into view and his voice met my ears, I felt my heart sink, dissolving among the churning fear and desperation.
No, I thought. Anyone but him.
“Edward,” said Zach.
He looked serious. Concerned. How could he not be, when there was a maniac with a gun pointed at
me. What a reunion.
“Oh! Perfect!” Edward laughed, wheeling around to point the gun at him. “The other half of my two favorite people in North Creek.”
Zach flashed his hands to show he wasn’t going to pull anything funny. Edward twitched hard and cocked the gun. “No. No—I’m calling the shots now. You two ain’t going nowhere.”
I met Zach’s stare over Edward’s shoulder. Where my eyes were alight with fear, his were steadfast and calm. Every part of me was screaming for him to run away from here, but one piece was happy to see him. It was the first time I’d looked into those devastating blue eyes in three months. I’d let myself forget how perfect they were.
I felt the first hot tear roll down my cheek as I prayed to whoever would listen that we’d make it out of this alive, and I could feel his arms around me just one more time.
21
Zach
With my eyes stuck to the tear rolling down Curtis’s cheek, I realized, He’s crying, and a hollow desperation flared up in my chest. Nobody was allowed to make him cry—especially not the likes of Edward Morris. But my own willingness for even a second was enough time for Edward to get the upper hand; he whirled around, gun pointed at me instead.
Instinctively, I palmed the gun at my hip.
Edward at least had the brains to give pause, eyeing my piece. “Oh. You came prepared, I see.”
“I did,” I muttered, unlatching the holster—pausing when he refocused his aim on me. “You gave us all a scare. I figured I’d start carrying again since leaving.” My eyes flickered back and forth between him and Curtis. “Good thing I did.”
“Come to save your boyfriend?” Edward asked, amused.
I clenched my jaw, glancing again at Curtis. His eyes flickered to the receptionist’s window and the door that led to their examination rooms. With a cold pulse of dread, I remembered this place was a clinic; were there others here? Were there patients? Children? I knew Sara was back there somewhere—they always worked together—and I prayed that she wouldn’t come out.