That's the Way I Loved You

by Carrie Aarons

  Deep, deeper than it was the day I left at nineteen, with a twang only his roots could provide. It’s got a hint of grizzly husk to it, and I bet if that voice whispered in my ear, it could still do that tingling, electric thing to my spine.

  “Not exactly the word I’d use.” I don’t turn, my hands shaking at the thought of my eyes holding him in them for the first time in a decade.

  “Well, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. Or does it all just look like trash coming from the big city?” He almost snorts, the snideness in his tone making me want to slap him.

  It could have been ten years or ten seconds, but I’d never get over the feelings Jason Whitney gave me. From the first moment I met him, all the way back at the church bake sale when I was eight, I’d been in love with him.

  We were … on fire. Blazing hot every damn minute of our existence with each other, whether it was burning with love or scorching with hate. Well, that’s a different story. Everyone knew not to come close to Savannah and Jason when we were in a fight. But not five minutes later, he’d be hauling me up into that truck and doing things that would make everyone in town blush if they were witness.

  It shouldn’t be a surprise that he’s out here, even though the question is on the tip of my tongue. Someone in town must have heard, or Sheriff Jenkins—how weird it was to say that—told him. Or maybe he simply knew; we always did have the kind of connection that was cosmic, something even the stars couldn’t explain.

  Finally, I turn, and even if he’s half-shadowed by the woods, the image still makes my heart go from a gallop to a sprint.

  Moonlight falls over that raven hair, the shade so close to the midnight sky that I used to tease him he’d come from a crow ancestry. He’s bigger now, if that’s even possible. I was always so petite compared to Jason, but the person standing before me isn’t the high school boyfriend who would catch me around my waist in the middle of the hall.

  No, this is a man. A strapping, muscled, filled out in all the right areas … man. He’s rugged in a way that no man in the city, especially Perry, will ever be. Just being in his proximity turns me on, and that pisses me off even more. I should have more control, I’ve had ten years to get this reaction under control.

  I can only make out one eye that’s illuminated by the moonlight, but that’s enough. So blue that it’s more iridescent than the middle of a sapphire, that eye, and its twin, used to hypnotize me. Those light blue orbs held every secret of mine and all the words that can’t be said right now.

  As Jason nears me, the force field of tension around us growing stronger with each step, I notice the stutter. The way his left leg drags behind just a second longer. Every inch of me fills with paralyzing sadness. His limp, unnoticeable to any stranger, is a physical reminder of all we’ve lost. To the untrained eye, they wouldn’t even catch the lag. But they haven’t seen him run, haven’t seen his body stretch to the most unimaginable athletic feats possible.

  “What’re you doing here, Savvy?” He uses the nickname I ditched the second I crossed the Texas state border a decade ago.

  Him, saying that, it brings it all flooding back. The love, the hurt, the horrible, soul-crushing breakup. And that … that makes me furious. He has no right to question me, to throw wrenches in my life and make me return to Hale.

  My voice is venom when I speak.

  “Wondering how the hell you sunk this piece of shit even farther into the mud. And how I can dig us out of it so I can go back home to my life, my boyfriend, and my new apartment.”

  4

  Jason

  Getting hit by a tractor trailer would have hurt less.

  Not only did she just emphasize that Hale was no longer her home—a fact I’ve known for some time but refused to get on board with—but she threw in that line about the boyfriend simply to gut me.

  Savannah has a boyfriend. And by the way it sounds, one she is moving in with.

  I don’t think my heart could be mashed into ground beef any more than it already is. Seriously, someone fry it up on a griddle and just eat it, put me out of my misery.

  I’m not sure why I thought she’d be there, pining for me in the same way I did for her. The Savannah in my brain was the exact same girl who had left ten years ago, yet the woman standing in front of me was anything but that.

  She seemed taller, though for Savvy, tall was never the word anyone would use to describe her. She was barely five foot two, back in the day, so maybe it was those fancy boots doing the trick. Those boots looked like they cost more than my whole house, which was my first clue as to how much she’d changed.

  The BMW, the dress pants and blouse she wore under a long, soft brown trench coat. The boots, the way her hair, still its same color, looked tamed and bright. Gone were the days of her locks snarled with leaves and ragged from running around in the creek beds with me.

  Or maybe it’s just the air about her. There is a way people who live in this town hold themselves; in a genuine, true manner. We’re open, willing to lend a hand or an ear depending on the situation. But with people who don’t grow up in small towns … you can just tell how detached they are. Everything about their body language screams, “keep your distance.”

  That’s exactly what Savannah was saying now, without saying it.

  She’s still every bit as gorgeous. Every bit as striking as the day I’d first kissed her in the eighth grade. But it couldn’t be denied, a bit of her spark had burned out.

  “You can fix it up if you’d like, darlin’. Got some tools in the truck.” I jack a thumb toward my pickup, ignoring her second statement about the debt.

  “How does that thing even still run?” Savannah looks part amused, part disgusted.

  Is she thinking about all the times I laid her down in the bed of my truck? Because now that she’s looking at it, I sure am.

  “When you take the time and effort to keep fixing something, it won’t give up on you.” My words are ominous.

  “Don’t talk to me about giving up on something.” Savvy’s words are equally as haunting.

  We’re in a standoff, staring at each other on the land that used to be our saving grace.

  We’d bought the little shack house from my uncle, the only family I’d had back then, the day I turned eighteen. He was willing to part with it for the sweet tune of three thousand dollars, but it was the land that was worth anything. Really, I think he just wanted me out of the house. He co-signed a loan for us at the bank, and I set to work that day on making it the home that Savannah had always dreamed of.

  It’s nothing more than a large living space with a tiny kitchenette and barely closed-off bathroom, with an adjoining bedroom that could just fit a queen bed and dresser.

  We’d moved in the day after high school graduation, after I’d laid the last new floorboard and painted the bedroom a canary yellow that she’d picked out. Everyone said we were crazy, and hell, we were. Crazy in love, about each other, and just about every other shade of crazy under the sun.

  But we were determined to make it. I had a dream that could earn us more dollars than we’d ever seen, and Savannah came along for the ride. Until it ended, killing all of my hopes. Then the unimaginable happened, just one whopping tragedy on top of another.

  Apparently, we weren’t strong enough to weather the storm.

  “How the hell could you let this property lapse? Why the hell didn’t you sell, back then?” Her voice is incredulous, and flames lick at the edges of her eyes.

  I’ve always loved her fury. “Seems there were two of us who owned it. You can’t put the blame squarely on me.”

  That answer only serves to irritate her further, and I swear she stamps a boot-clad foot in the dirt. “I left, Jason. That gave you clear ownership, in my mind, to sell the damn place. You could have made a pretty penny off this land. Instead, my loan agent back in New York tells me you haven’t paid the mortgage on the land or the property taxes in almost ten years! What the hell were you thinking?”

&nb
sp; That you’d come back for it. For me, a small voice in my head whispers, but I shut it up.

  “I was thinking that no one has any right to own land out here more than God himself, and that doing anything requiring a credit score is something I could just complete myself.”

  “That’s some jackass, hillbilly kinda—” Savannah starts cursing under her breath, too angry to address me.

  “I’ll give you the money. Right now. I have my checkbook. You tell me what’s owed on it, how we get off our bankrolls, and I’ll write it out right now.” She’s so matter of fact that I want to kiss her square on the mouth.

  Shock her. Send that professional, disinterested attitude running back to the city it came from.

  But I don’t. Instead, I turn around and head for my car. “I’m not selling it.”

  I can hear Savannah scrambling under her breath. “But … what … what do you mean you’re not selling?”

  “You heard me.” I never do like to repeat myself, and she should remember that fact.

  “Jason! Don’t you dare get in that truck!” she hollers, that twang I love so much coming back in her anger.

  I smile, though she can’t see it as I’m turned away. Yell at me, fight. Anything to make you sound a little more like the girl I used to make fall apart on the mattress in that shack behind us.

  “Why in the hell won’t you just settle this? Haven’t we hurt each other enough? Don’t be spiteful, just to be spiteful!” she pleads.

  She doesn’t understand, though. If I handed this over, if I let her sign the check, she’d be cashing in my last card. The only one I have left to play.

  The only thing I have still tying her to me.

  5

  Savannah

  “I know, Per, I’m trying.”

  The frustrated sigh that comes across the phone only grates on my nerves more. “They’re only going to hold the sale for us for the next thirty days. After that, they’ll give it to the next highest bidder.”

  As if telling me just how dire of a situation this is makes me feel any calmer. “At least they gave us an extension. I’m sure I can settle what I need to here, and then it’ll all be fine. I really do apologize, again … I don’t know how this happened.”

  There is a silence on the other end, and I just picture him pinching the bridge of his nose, sitting behind his gleaming glass desk in a navy blue pinstripe suit.

  “How did you never tell me about this, Savannah? It’s just so … irresponsible. I’ve never known you to be irresponsible.” Perry’s tone makes me cringe.

  It’s because, with him, I’m not irresponsible. I’m not the girl barely escaping run-ins with the local cops, or moving out at eighteen to live with her boyfriend. I’m not the girl who left her family, missing the only time she had left with—

  Shaking my head to clear the cobwebs I haven’t allowed to settle in my brain for years, I cough. “I’m sorry, it’s just my past. Something I thought was buried and done. I’ll take care of it. I just can’t wait to come home to you.”

  I try to infuse a small smile into my voice, because the thought of Perry and New York feels like home. And I’m so disjointed right now, from being back in Hale, from seeing Jason, that all I want is the comfort of my safe life miles and miles from here.

  “I can’t wait either.” He sighs, sounding tired. “I miss you. Things here are just hectic and work is insane … I need you back here. Okay?”

  “I know.” I have to swallow the emotion.

  But before I can go on, telling him how much I love him, Perry cuts me off. “Ah, shit, something’s just come through to my desk. I gotta go, Savannah. Talk later.”

  The line goes dead, and I notice how he never told me that he loved me. My parents never went a day without telling each other they were so in love. Multiple times a day, enough to make us kids fake gag on our fingers.

  Walking back into the strange house I’ve come to stay in, I try not to wince at the hundreds of ceramic pigs and chickens littering the counters, top of the cabinets, and in the clear glass of the sideboard by the table.

  After Jason left me standing in the dark, out in the middle of nowhere, last night, I could barely find the control to call my sister. Adeline, along with our other two siblings, still lives in Hale. She’s married, with three kids, and was so shocked to hear from me that she all but dropped the phone. Which is still attached to the wall by one of those chords, as I witnessed when I walked into her home not more than an hour later.

  Now, here I am, up before everyone else in the house to catch Perry in the three minutes he has to chat before the clock strikes seven a.m. on the East Coast. But here, in our sleepy Texas hometown, the whole family is still snoozing comfortably in their beds at six on a weekday. Back home, I’d be in a spin class or on my way for a venti coffee at Starbucks by this time. I’d be on set before my sister and her children had even caught the school bus and be home far after the sun went down. I’d bet money on it that Adeline has dinner on the table at five, and they all eat together, discussing their day.

  My, how different our lives have turned out.

  At the counter, I find the coffee pot, a generic model that Perry would scoff at. The thought makes me cringe, because how much has the city, has he, influenced my mind? Back in the day, I wouldn’t have even noticed. But as I pull the Folgers from the cabinet, the same place our mother left it when we were kids, I can’t help but long for the dark, bold European brand that Perry stocks at his apartment.

  Part of me loathes the kind of person I’ve become.

  The pot brews, I pour a cup in a Hale High School Football mug and then sit at Adeline’s kitchen table. Looking around, her overdone country rustic decor assaults my eyes. It’s too much, everywhere, but I have to admit, it’s somewhat comforting. No matter how far from Hale I’ve run, being back in its homey arms does feel nice.

  “Well, this is different than Dad having to drag you by the feet out of your bed.”

  My sister rounds the table. I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting here in silence, as she goes for the counter.

  She’s older, gray hairs popping up at the crown of her head, but still beautiful. Adeline was always the most graceful, the enviable older sister to us all. It went Adeline, Noah, Lorelei, and then me. The baby of the bunch, my siblings often taunted me, loved on me too hard, and complained that our parents allowed me to do things they’d have whipped the others’ hides for. My brother and two sisters were presumably close, not that I’d know. I’ve barely spoken to them in ten years.

  After … everything happened, I took off. I cut ties, stopped answering the phone. I was terrified they blamed me. And maybe it was better with me gone, because it’s not like any of them tried to chase me down.

  In fact, I think this is the first time in a decade that Adeline and I have sat in the same room.

  “Thanks for picking me up last night,” I say, more into my coffee mug than to her.

  “I thought it was a ghost calling. When I heard your voice, I dang near dropped the phone. Brad all but sat me down in a chair.”

  Her husband, Bradley, was still asleep upstairs somewhere. Adeline and Brad, Hale’s forever couple. Together since middle school, they were married in the church on Main Street just after their twentieth birthdays. I barely stuck around for their honeymoon and missed each of my niece’s or nephew’s births.

  When those kids come down the stairs, their faces will hold confused, unknowing looks. They have no idea who I am.

  “I’ll try to get a room at the inn, if there is one available. Don’t worry, I won’t be in your hair for long.” Taking my cup to the sink, I rinse it out.

  “No one said I was worried. You don’t have to leave. Though I’d love to know the answer to the question of the hour. Why are you staying?” Ah, there is the big sister voice I’ve always hated.

  My back is to her, and my guard is up. I don’t want my business all over town, and I’m not sure if Adeline can be trusted anymore. My fam
ily and I are strangers, so will they really treat me as one of their own?

  “Unfinished business. And then I’m back to New York.”

  Upstairs, a toilet flushes, and I hurry to grab my coat and slide into my shoes. I’m not in the mood for a family reunion, and I already feel out of place here.

  “That unfinished business wouldn’t have to do with Jason, now would it?” She doesn’t even bother to hide her smirk as I turn to face her.

  “You don’t know where I could find him on a morning like this, do you?” I ask, ignoring her.

  She taps her chin. “Probably at The Whistlestop, or down at the school crosswalk. It’s cold season.”

  I have no idea what that means, but I take it. I wanted to avoid going to Main Street, too many old memories, but I guess my ghost of Hale past has come calling.

  “It is good to see you, ya know. It’s been too long, Savvy.” Adeline’s eyes crinkle at the corners as she smiles a true, genuine smile at me.

  I nod a fraction at her, acknowledging that it has been a long time.

  And then I’m out the door, ready to find the ex-love of my life and wring his neck.

  6

  Jason

  Steam blows burning hot onto my hand, and I mutter a loud curse that I’m certain was not under my breath.

  One of the teenage customers waiting at the counter giggles, while old Mrs. Leftim scowls at me.

  “Sorry,” I say sheepishly as I pour two steaming hot espresso shots into the to-go cup in front of me.

  “Burn yourself again?” Rudy, owner of The Whistlestop, chuckles at me from the register.

  “The damn thing has a grudge against me.” I flick off the espresso machine, much to the dismay of Mrs. Leftim.

  I fill a couple more drink orders, seeming to quell the chaos that comes every ten minutes in these morning hours on Main Street.