Singled Out

Chapter 8

The five minutes in Max’s garage before he came back to get me were the longest, quietest of my life.

I’d been fighting off ugly shit in my head since we’d left the gala by chattering about whatever came to mind, trying to keep up a happy front. A bone-deep, suffocating sadness was seeping in, catching me off guard. I’d expected the award acceptance on Naomi’s behalf to be hard, but…

I squeezed my eyes shut as I sensed Max reentering the garage. When I opened them, I blinked at the light coming from inside the house. As he reached my door and opened it, offering me his hand, I tried to appear composed.

He’d turned out to be the right partner for this specific evening that could’ve so easily been hell. Thanks to him, I’d gotten through it intact. When we’d run into several people he knew, he’d included me in their conversations. And since he’d been to dozens of formal events before, he was well versed in the routine and clued me in when I needed it, like with the forks.

What was more, he seemed to be empathetic to my nervousness, not only about speaking in front of people but about managing my sadness. We didn’t talk about it; I just sensed he got it, maybe because of his own recent loss.

He’d indulged me by dancing, where I didn’t have to make small talk with strangers or think too hard about Naomi. Mostly I had to concentrate on not falling into Max’s arms the way I wanted to.

He’d basically been the support I needed to get through the evening. I wasn’t sure any other guy would’ve understood that, let alone gone along with it. So among the many feelings swirling inside of me, there were depths of gratitude.

The other feelings were more confusing, I acknowledged, as he took my backpack from me and put a hand at the small of my back, guiding me into his house.

It was wild to think I was spending the night at Max’s, but after that creepy run-in with Naomi’s brother…

On the drive into town, after leaving Naomi’s, I’d told him I could go to my dad’s or a friend’s place. The time was nearly one in the morning though, and as he’d pointed out, I didn’t want to wake anyone up and worry them.

Before we got to the steps to the house, I stopped and tugged at his tuxedo-clad arm. “In case I forget to say it later, thank you.”

His lips caught my attention as they eased upward at the corners. “You already thanked me.”

“That was for going to the gala. This is for going inside Naomi’s with me and offering a place to stay.”

“That guy’s not stable. I wouldn’t leave you alone there.”

He peered down at me, as if to make it clear he meant every word. His eyes were intense. Compassionate. And beyond handsome. My God, I felt that look deep inside of me.

I searched for something to say that would lighten the moment, but I was tired. I couldn’t quite get my brain to work enough to be witty.

For three weighted-with-potential seconds, we gazed at each other in the low light.

There was an undeniable physical pull between us, not just now but all evening. One that, in a different situation, another lifetime, I might pursue for a night or five.

We’d agreed though, one date only, and I fell back on that, relieved the question had been preaddressed and closed. No chance of anything developing between me and Max Dawson.

We broke eye contact, and with a gentle nudge at my back, he guided me up to the door and inside.

“Shh,” he whispered into my ear, sending a shiver through me. He pointed to our left as we entered. “Danny’s bedroom is right there.”

We passed it and entered the kitchen, dimly lit by three pendant lights over an island. The kitchen opened to the living area. The entire exterior wall was windows and French doors I was sure overlooked the lake.

The living room was casual, homey, with a large cream-colored sectional covered in blue, cream, and beige throw pillows, a big, square coffee table, and a stone fireplace flanked by built-in shelves. The ceiling was raised, with exposed beams in warm wood. In the corner, I spotted a blue toy box with a stuffed giraffe hanging halfway out of it.

“Do you want something to eat?” Max asked.

I shook my head. “I’m exhausted.” I couldn’t wait to collapse in private. If I was lucky, I’d be unconscious in thirty seconds.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

Still carrying my backpack, Max led me down the stairs, through another family room, and down a hall. At the end was a cozy bedroom with one white ship-lap wall, a plush-looking queen bed, and a restful palette of soft whites and grays with pops of lime. There were windows on two walls, plus a door to the outside.

“Bathroom is there.” Max pointed to a door in the hall we’d just walked by, then set my bag on the armchair in the corner. “Help yourself to anything, including the kitchen if you decide you’re hungry.”

“I won’t, but thank you, Max. This looks so peaceful I could live in here.”

“For as long as you need to,” he said.

“Oh, I didn’t mean that for real. It’s just…perfect.” I cut myself off, hoping to end the conversation faster. Pressure was building in my throat and behind my eyes.

“Good night, Harper.”

“Night.” I managed a smile and watched him duck out of the room, closing the door after him.

I sank to the bed, inhaling deeply and hearing the shakiness when I exhaled.

I might be alone finally, but I continued to fight off tears. Crying was exhausting. Also, I wasn’t sure I’d ever stop if I started.

I hopped back up and dug out the boxers and tank I’d packed to sleep in.

Once I had my pajamas on, I took my toothbrush to the bathroom. It was decorated in navy and lime, I noted, thinking that was a happy color combination. Tonight the colors didn’t make me feel happy.

Back in the bedroom, with all the lights off, I crawled under the cool, fluffy bedding, noting the complete silence.

Less than two minutes later, I bolted back up, unable to stand that silence.

I went to the outside door and peeked between the blinds. There was a patio directly outside, then a gentle slope down to the dark lake.

Fresh air.

Water.

Space.

That was what I needed.

I unlocked the door and headed outside.

The properties on this section of the lake were larger, not crammed in so close to each other like they were in other neighborhoods. Here, groves of trees grew from the shore to the house on both sides of Max’s property, separating it from the neighbors.

There was a paved path to the water that split the yard down the middle, but I stuck to the cool grass on my way to the shore.

Max owned a boat, because of course he owned a boat. The pontoon was docked under a canopy. Instead of going on the dock, I stuck to the shadows on this side of the boat, noting his land had a small sandy beach.

With my feet bare, I waded into the water, reveling in the cool, refreshing feel of it, standing calf deep and letting the sounds of the outdoors wash over me. Insects. Frogs. The slightest whisper of a breeze in the trees.

I continued a little farther, thigh deep, my feet finding sand and a few smooth stones.

Above me, the vast, black sky was peppered with a million stars. It was a stunning sight. Reassuring at a moment when I was on the verge of being pulled under by doubt.

I’d been burying a suspicion that everything in my life was on shaky, unsure ground for weeks, just trying to make it through the gala. Naomi’s award acceptance. It was the last of the obligations I had to see through for my friend. First had been the funeral, then the auction at the Marks for her pet cause. Then tonight’s award.

It was all finished now.

My life was my own again, with the exception of the studio, and that was temporary and optional.

I swallowed hard, which seemed to serve as the valve that’d been holding back my tears, because they now poured down both cheeks.

Yes, my life was my own again, but a thought had been building, gathering steam, that there wasn’t really very much to my life.

Over the past few years, Naomi had become a large part of my days—my roommate and landlord, my friend, mentor, the person I spent more time with than anyone else. I’d managed to not let myself fixate on her absence because I’d still had those obligations to see through.

Suddenly her loss gaped in front of me. I felt it as a physical pain in my chest.

Her beautiful face, her multitude of copper-tinged braids, her kindhearted blue eyes… I saw her perfectly in my mind’s eye, allowing the image in to an extent I hadn’t in the weeks since she’d died.

I’d kept myself too busy carrying out her day-to-day responsibilities with the studio and the farmhouse, consulting on the auction when asked about her preferences, the organizers trying to honor her at every step. Then the gala—preparing for it mentally and emotionally, as well as finding the right dress and shoes, choosing from her modest jewelry collection a piece I would wear to have her with me, and spending the day getting prettied up for it—facial, nails, hair, makeup. Coming up with suitable words for the acceptance itself.

By putting all my energy into the details, I’d focused on what alive-and-well Naomi would’ve wanted. It had kept reality from sinking in—that alive-and-well Naomi was gone forever.

Quivering from the inside out, I choked on a sob and fought to catch my breath.

Once my lungs were filled, I dove underwater, into the welcoming darkness that insulated me from the rest of the world, rushing around me to cradle me and protect me like a loving mother. I kicked, cut my arms through the water, and let out a screech of mourning that only the fish could hear.

I swam farther out, away from the shore, until I ran out of breath and had to surface. I filled my lungs again, panting for oxygen as I treaded water, my tears mixing with lake water.

I checked the darkness around me, making sure there wasn’t a silent fishing boat anchored nearby or someone sitting on the edge of a dock. I’d swum beyond the end of Max’s dock by a good bit. I didn’t sense anyone close enough to see my shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

I stretched one leg downward but didn’t hit the lake bottom, so I kept myself afloat by treading water, bobbing my head under frequently to wash away my tears, only to have more pour out the second I resurfaced.

When my muscles wore out, I eased my head back and drifted into a float with only my head above water.

As I gazed at the stars, I let thoughts of Naomi come, giving them no resistance, just allowing them free rein as I hadn’t before. I wondered if she was in the stars. Took comfort in imagining she was. Smiled through my tears knowing that idea would’ve filled her with joy and inspiration. She probably would’ve tried to paint it.

The sobs kept coming, pouring out of me. I floated there for I didn’t know how long, silently ugly crying, sputtering out lake water, grieving my loss. Missing my friend so much that every cell in my body ached to hug her, longed for the sound of her joyful laugh.

Eventually my breaths evened out, and my shoulders ceased their shuddering, my body thoroughly wrung out. The sliver of a moon was the only measure of how much time had passed, as it had traveled partway across the sky.

Rolling to my stomach, I submerged myself, cleansing my face of my salty tears one more time.

I surfaced again, my body spent, my heart thoroughly wrenched. The night sounds filtered back into my consciousness as I calmed myself, pulling myself out of my head and back into the world around me.

For another few minutes, I floated and gazed at the sky, appreciating the physical beauty of it instead of pondering whether our loved ones who died were somehow out there in the ether.

Eventually I called on the dregs of my energy, rolled to my side, and started a slow sidestroke back to the shore.

When I reached water that was waist deep, I submerged again to smooth my hair out of my face, then found my footing on the sandy bottom and stood.

I let out a startled gasp when I discerned a shirtless man standing on the dock in the darkness.