8. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Walker
From the moment she left, the house felt different without her in it.
Emptier. Colder. I walk from room to room, touching the places where Hailey sat, stood, or even leaned against the counter.
Olivia is with Mrs. Winters at a library reading carnival thing they are doing.
They will be gone all day, which is a blessing.
I don't know how to explain that Hailey is gone or how to tell her it's my fault.
My phone buzzes. Jace, for the third time this morning.
Jace: You alive?
Me: Unfortunately.
Three dots appear immediately.
Jace: Coming over. Got beer.
I don't respond. Even though I don't want company, I know Jace well enough to understand that silence won't deter him. Twenty minutes later, his truck rumbles into my driveway. I hear his boots on the porch, then the door opening. He doesn't knock anymore, hasn't in years.
"You look like shit," he announces, kicking the door closed behind him.
"Thanks."
He sets a six-pack on the coffee table and drops onto my couch. "Heard Hailey left town."
My head snaps up. "What?"
"Small town," he shrugs. "Becky Henderson was telling Mrs. Winters that Hailey asked her to water some plants because she was out of town. Heard it when I dropped the twins and Delaney at the Library.”
The room tilts slightly. I hadn't considered that she might actually leave Big Wood. I thought—stupidly—that I'd have time to fix this. To explain.
"She's gone?
How long?" My voice sounds strange, hollow.
"That's the word. And I have no idea. Is Liv at the library, too?"
"Yeah, with Mrs. Winters." I sink into the armchair across from him. "I fucked up, Jace."
"No shit." He cracks open a beer and slides it toward me. "What exactly did you do?"
I take the beer but don't drink it. "She found the letters."
"The ones to Riley?"
I nod.
“How did she find them? Was she snooping around your house?”
“No, apparently Riley’s grandma kept them and she found them in the attic when she moved into the house.” I tell him while taking another swig of my beer.
"And?"
"And she read them. She pieced together that they were about me and confronted me yesterday.” I stop, swallow hard. "I didn’t want to talk about them right then with Olivia upstairs, but I also didn’t think she would leave."
Jace winces. "Ouch."
"Yeah."
"So explain it to her."
I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "I tried. She just kept asking questions I couldn’t answer."
"Try harder."
"She's gone, Jace. You just said she left town."
He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Since when do you give up so easily? The Walker I know would be halfway to wherever she went by now."
"It's not that simple."
"It never is." He takes a long pull from his beer. "Look, I'm not exactly an expert on healthy relationships—"
"No shit."
"—but even I know you can't keep people out and expect them to stay."
The words hit like a physical blow. I stare at him, this man who's known me since we were skinny kids jumping off the quarry cliffs, and see the truth I've been avoiding.
"She deserved better," I say finally.
"Probably. Most people do." He shrugs. "Question is, what are you gonna do about it?"
I look down at the unopened beer in my hands. "I don't know if there's anything I can do."
"Bullshit." Jace stands up. "You're Walker Ellison. You survived two tours in Afghanistan. You're raising the best kid, well okay, the third best kid in town,” he pauses and winks at me. “You built this house with your own two hands." He gestures around us. "You're telling me you can't figure out how to tell a woman you love her?"
"I never said I love her."
Jace gives me a look that could wither crops. "You didn't have to."
After he leaves, I sit in silence for a long time. The house creaks and settles around me, a living thing with its own heartbeat. I think about Hailey's face when she confronted me about the letters. The hurt in her eyes. The way she looked at me like I was a stranger.
Going to my desk, I pull out a fresh sheet of paper. The blank page stares back at me, daring me to fill it with truth. I pick up a pen.
Dear Hailey,
I pause, already stuck. What can I possibly say that will make her understand? That will make her forgive me? I start again.
Hailey,
I don't know if you'll read this. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. But I need to write it anyway, because there are things I should have told you a long time ago.
Then I start pouring my heart out, but only get a few paragraphs in before I have to stop, my hand shaking slightly. I've never written this down before. Never said it out loud to anyone. But if there's any chance of Hailey understanding, she needs to know everything. So I keep going, pushing through.
After reading the letter twice, I fold it carefully. From Olivia's art desk, I retrieve the drawing she made of the three of us—me, her, and Hailey—standing in front of our house with exaggerated smiles and stick-figure hands. "My family," she'd written across the top in rainbow letters.
I told her to hold on to it thinking it would scare Hailey off that we were moving too fast. But now I’m hoping it is what will bring her back to me.
Putting both in an envelope, I drive to Hailey's house. The place looks deserted, curtains drawn, no car in the drive. I leave the envelope propped against her door, weighted down with a small stone from her garden.
Then I wait.
Not on her porch. That feels too presumptuous, too invasive. Instead, I sit in my truck at the end of her lane, where the gravel meets the county road. I don't know what I'm waiting for, exactly. For her to come home? For a sign that I haven't ruined everything?
Hours pass. The sun slides toward the mountains. I should pick up Olivia from Mrs. Winters, but I can't make myself leave. Not yet.
My phone rings. It's Mrs. Winters.
"Walker? Is everything alright? Olivia's still here, and I haven’t heard from you."
I check the time—5:45. "I'm so sorry. I lost track of time. I'll be right there."
"No problem. She's helping me in the garden. Take your time."
I start the truck and go to get Olivia. Every mile I put between Hailey’s place and me, I can feel physical pain. After I pick up Olivia and head home, I try to keep my mind on simple things like what I’m going to make for dinner and getting Olivia ready for bed, when a text comes in.
Hailey: I got your letter. We need to talk. I'll be at the diner at 8 a.m. tomorrow.
My heart stops, then restarts at double speed. I read the message again, trying to decipher any emotion in the words in front of me. There's nothing to go on. No clue whether she's coming to say goodbye or to give me another chance.
Me: I’ll be there.
"—and then Jackson said girls can't be astronauts, which is so stupid, and Mrs. Delaney showed us pictures of actual women astronauts, and I told him that I'm going to be the first person to walk on Mars, and—" She stops abruptly. "Dad? Are you listening?"
"Of course I am. Jackson's an idiot, and you're going to Mars." I say as I finish putting Olivia to bed.
She grins, satisfied. "Can we see if Hailey wants to go to the library carnival with me tomorrow?"
The question lands like a punch to the gut. "Hailey's not here. She had to go away for a little while."
Olivia's face falls. "Because of work?"
"Something like that."
"When is she coming back?"
I grip the steering wheel tighter. "I don't know, sweetheart."
"But she is coming back, right?" Her voice gets smaller. "She promised to teach me how to make those paper stars."
I can't lie to her. Not even to spare her feelings. "I hope so, Liv. I really hope so."
Once I finish tucking her into bed, I go to bed myself, willing the morning to come faster.
In exchange for taking Olivia early this morning, I had to give Mrs. Winters some details on everything going on with Hailey. The whole time I just keep watching the clock.
7:05. 7:13. 7:26.
I finally get out the door and into my truck, checking the time again.
7:42.
The drive to the diner takes seven minutes. I arrive at 7:49, scanning the parking lot for Hailey's car. It's not here. My stomach drops.
Inside, the evening crowd is sparse. There are a couple of truckers at the counter, the high school baseball coach and his wife in a booth, and a table of elderly men drinking coffee in the corner. No Hailey.
I take a booth by the window and order coffee I don't want. Every time the door opens, my head snaps up, hope rising and falling like a tide.
8:04. 8:12. 8:24. 8:38
She's not coming. The realization settles over me like a weight. I've lost her. I've lost us.
Leaving money on the table for the coffee, I walk outside. The morning air is cool against my face, carrying the scent of pine and distant rain. I stand in the parking lot, not ready to go home, not ready to face the emptiness.
The sound of tires on gravel makes me turn. A car pulls in, but it’s not Hailey's sedan, so I head for my car. It parks, and the driver's door opens.
Hailey steps out, her hair windblown, her eyes finding mine immediately across the distance.
And suddenly, I can breathe again.