Blair
The same as so many nights in our past, Denver slips back out my window before sunrise. I clutch the pillow he slept on to my chest, spooning it and taking slow, conscientious sniffs of his lingering scent, as if inhaling too quickly will make it dissipate faster.
My sister’s worried voice rings in my ears. Make sure he’s all in before you fall headfirst.
He said he was all in. He said I was the only one he’s ever loved. He said a lot of sweet things—the same whispered promises he’s broken in the past. I’m sure he’ll find a way to let me down, and my entire world will fall apart like it did before.
Ignoring the churning in my stomach, I rip the pillow from its case, strip the sheets, and pad down the hallway to the laundry room at five a.m. to remove any traces of him from my bed. Then I spend hours doing anything to shut my brain off. I attempt yoga on the crisp grass, clean the kitchen, make breakfast for my parents, and spend twenty minutes convincing Mom to go for a walk with me.
Standing in the middle of the driveway, I squint up at the midmorning sun while I wait for Mom to find her shoes. In the skintight pocket of my biker shorts, my phone vibrates.
Denver: Hot or iced coffee?
I blink at the screen, debating how to answer. The question in itself seems innocent enough, but the inevitable follow-up scares me. If he asks me to have coffee with him…that’s a date. And a date leads to dating, which lends itself pretty well to me being a wreck when the dating part comes to an end. Except these days I have people relying on me—and being incapable of taking care of my family isn’t an option.
“Ready!” Mom calls out from the front door, zipping up her light hoodie. “Took me ages to find these darn shoes.”
They were in the front closet, like always, but I know better than to say that.
“Probably because it’s been forever since we got out for a walk.” I smile at her, pulling my sunglasses from the top of my head and putting them on. “Whit’s gonna meet us at the end of the street, too.”
“Oh, good. I miss her.”
My heart sinks, and I let out a meditative exhale. “Come on, let’s go then. She’s probably waiting.”
Rather than chatting, Mom takes to quiet humming of old Broadway tunes while we walk, which isn’t helpful for the chaos happening in my mind. Doesn’t matter that the sun is shining, birds are chirping, and my mom’s happier than I’ve seen in weeks; I can’t shake the melancholia from my bones.
And when we stop outside of a blue cottage with a yellow door so Mom can tie her shoes, I decide to tell Denver that things need to end.
Denver: That wasn’t a question that typically requires somebody to think about it for ten minutes.
Denver: Guess I’ll bring both kinds to your office this afternoon.
Tell him it ends here. Clean break. No pain. I’ve never been one for building walls, for setting boundaries, for knowing how to keep my heart safe. But I need to try.
: I’m not going to the officetoday
My fingers and brain don’t work in coordination, apparently. I stare at the bubble indicating that he’s typing, watching it appear and disappear on repeat. Unable to catch a full breath, my lungs ache with anticipation.
Denver: I’ll deliver it to your front door, then.
: Denver, that’s not a good idea.
Denver: Another bad day?
I look over at Mom, who finally got her shoelaces tied on the seventh try. It’s not a bad day— not at all —and that’s exactly why I can’t jeopardize my own mental health. I need to remain strong and put together, so I can relish her good days and be her support for the bad.
: No, I just need some time alone with my mom.
Whit’s waiting for us at the stop sign, and Mom gives her a hug that makes up for the disaster from last night. And we turn toward the Wells Ranch Road, aiming for a walking trail that skirts town, running beside the Timothy River and through thick forest.
“Night and day difference from yesterday,” Whit says quietly, hooking a thumb toward where Mom’s a full twenty feet ahead like she’s practicing for an Olympic speed-walking event.
“Thankfully. Poor Dad would probably quit the family if both of us were in a weird mood today.”
She turns her head slightly, skirting around a tree branch fallen halfway across the trail. “Why are you in a weird mood? Last night you seemed cute and love drunk after kissing Denny.”
“I snuck him into my room last night.”
Besides Cassidy, Whit’s the only person who knows how often Denver used to sneak into my room. Mostly because, at only two years younger than me, she was frequently still awake when he snuck in. I did a lot of her homework to stop her from telling our parents.
She slaps me on the arm. “You’re close to thirty-two and still sneaking boys into your room?”
“Apparently.” I kick a pebble down the trail like I’m dribbling a soccer ball. “I think it was a big mistake though…. I was feeling like total shit after everything with Mom. And asking him to come over seemed like a good idea, so I wouldn’t be alone with my thoughts.”
“Then you hooked up.”
I scoff. “How dare you assume? Okay, yeah, we did. And now I’m messed up over it.”
If we were still teenagers, I’d smack the smirk right off my sister’s face.
“Sis, take it from somebody who’s had some on-again-off-again with my ex. Follow your gut. If you’re not feeling good about this, walk away before you’re in too deep.”
“You’re right.” I gnaw at a piece of chapped skin on my lower lip. “I just…what if there’s no such thing as getting over your first love?”
“Then I’m doomed to a life where Alex gets to hold power over me forever. I refute that idea.” She grabs my hand, squeezing. “Do you think you’re simply feeling nostalgic for the way things used to be, or do you actually love him still?”
I think about the way he held me last night, wiping my tears and kissing away every thought in my head. I needed him, and he came.
“What if— hear me out —part of me wants to take a risk and find out the hard way?”
“Then you should follow your gut, just like I said.”
“But I’m terrified, Whit. He might hurt me all over again.”
She nods. “He might. And if he does, it’s gonna suck.”
For a moment I stay quiet, listening to the crunch of compact dirt under my sneakers, waiting for her to add a but .
She doesn’t.
So I do. “But…he also might not.”
“Absolutely. He might not.” Her lips roll into a flat smile. “Guess you need to decide which ‘might’ you want to bet on.”
We turn a corner on the trail, coming to a fork I don’t remember existing. Immediately Whit looks at me with wide eyes, then calls out for Mom.
Holding my palms to either side of my mouth, I scream, “Mom!”
Hearing nothing, I say, “Okay, it’s fine. There’s only two ways she could’ve gone. So we’ll each take a trail and…jog, so we can catch up to her, since she was walking pretty fast.”
Without another word, Whit takes off down the left trail, and I take the right. Running until my lungs burn and every breath brings me one second closer to collapse. When the trails converge again, Whit’s waiting with her hands on her knees, keeled over, catching her breath.
“ Shit. We gotta keep going. How long is this stupid trail again?”
Whit snaps her neck to look up at me. “It goes for another ten-ish kilometers. But we’re closer to downtown now, so there’s a bunch of spots where she could’ve exited the trail just up ahead.”
My fingers comb through my sweaty hairline, and I tug at the roots, trying desperately to figure out a game plan that doesn’t involve Whit and me running all over town.
“Maybe we should call Dad?” Whit asks.
“No! He’s at work and he doesn’t need the added stress right now. It’s my morning to keep an eye on her.” Squeezing my eyes shut to filter out the vibration of a text message—likely from Denver—I say, “Okay, I think one of us should keep walking the trail, and the other start zigzagging the streets in town.”
Thankfully, Wells Canyon isn’t a big city, so it shouldn’t take long to jog every street. But there’s always the possibility she wandered off the trail into the woods, or a wild animal came along, or she started walking down the highway…the possibilities are virtually endless. Especially if she had a brain fog moment and forgot where she was entirely.
Whit pulls the hem of her shirt up, exposing her stomach and sports bra, to wipe her sweat-slicked face. “Okay, I’ll take the trail.”
“Okay. I’ll call you if—”
My phone rings aggressively in my pocket, and I pull it out to see if it’s somebody who might be calling about Mom.
Balling my free hand into a fist, I answer with a harsh tone. “Denver, I don’t have time to talk to you about my goddamn coffee order.”
“Really? Because it sounds like maybe you haven’t had a cup yet this morning.”
“Mom’s missing.”
There’s a rustling for a second, then he says, “Well, she’s eating a cinnamon roll with me right now…so it seems you’re the one who’s missing.”
“She’s what ?” Turning to Whit, I let out a sigh of relief, wiping beaded sweat from my brow. “She’s at Anette’s Bakery having a cinnamon roll.”
Denver snorts. “Are you lost?”
“No. I’ll be there right away. Just tell her to stay put, okay?”
“I’ll stay here with her. Take your time, baby.”
The way he says baby smooths across me like a healing balm. I hate asking him to stay when I’ve spent the entire morning convincing myself to push him away, but my mom’s safety is more important than my discomfort.
“You don’t mind staying with her?”
“Of course I don’t mind. I figured something was up when I saw her here alone, and I couldn’t ignore that.”
“Well…thank you.” I gesture for Whit to keep walking with me down the trail. “We’ll be there soon.”
Hanging up, I turn to my sister. “I think Anette puts drugs in her cinnamon rolls. If you’re looking for anybody in town, that seems to be the place to check first.”
She laughs. “They are really good. At least she’s safe.”
“Thank God Denver knew to stay with her when he saw her alone.”
When we’re finally breathing at a normal rate and able to relax into our casual walk once again, Whit asks, “So, what are you going to do about him?”
“I don’t know. He’s just…he’s being very flirtatious, and sweet, and fun to hang out with, and he keeps offering to talk to me about the stuff I have going on. But I also don’t know if he’s doing all this with a dozen other girls.”
“That would be a pretty gutsy move. This town is small. You found out about his dating life when you lived five hours away. Plus, his best friend is dating your best friend.” She shakes her head. “I’ve always thought Denny’s a nice guy, but there’s no way he’s smart enough to pull off something like dating a dozen girls at once.”
“Okay…but what about when he realizes I’m not worth the effort? I kind of come with some baggage now that I didn’t have at sixteen.”
“What did dating in the city do to you?” She stops walking, spinning to stare at me with pure disgust. “You were the older sister who didn’t let me say a single negative thing about myself growing up. And now you’re telling me you have no idea how freaking cool you are? Any guy would be lucky to have you. If he doesn’t see that, he’s blind.”
I rock back on my heels, cringing at my own irrational thoughts. Oh God, she’s right. Sure, sometimes I’m on sale, but I know my worth.
“Anyway, half of your baggage came from him, ” Whit says, gesturing angrily toward the imaginary Denver standing in front of us. “If he has something to say about it, I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”
“No, no. This is just my own insecurities…I cried when we had sex last night, and he didn’t run off. He was actually really sweet and tried to get me to talk to him after. He implied that he still loves me, and he said I was it for him.”
“I think I’m going to gamble on ‘might not,’?” she muses, looking up at the tree canopy.
“What?”
Whit clears her throat. “I think he might not hurt you, for what it’s worth. Obviously, I’m not a relationship expert by any stretch, but I’d give him a chance.”
“I want to…” I admit, to both her and myself.
I want more than anything for the love story we told each other as kids to come true. It’s something I brushed aside for years when I was away from here—telling myself I was a badass feminist with no desire to settle down with a man. It was true that I didn’t have the desire to be with a man, because it’s only ever been about him.
“Okay, worst-case scenario, what happens?”
I wince, eyebrows scrunched together. “Whit, I don’t think we want to talk about what the worst-case scenario might look like…given what happened before.”
“, I know you don’t think you do…but you have support here. You didn’t then, and I’m so sorry for that.” Her arm links up with mine, our sweaty inner-elbow ditches pressed together, and we take a steep shortcut down a small hill, staggering onto the concrete sidewalk of Main Street.
The smell of Anette’s cinnamon rolls penetrates the air, and I smile at my sister.
“Thanks for the talk, sis,” I say.
“Figured out what you’ll do about him?”
“I think I want to bet on ‘might not’…but you better have my phone number set to come through even when you’re on ‘do not disturb,’ just in case.”
“I’d be a pretty horrible sister if it wasn’t already set up that way.” She lets our arms fall away from each other as she reaches for the bakery door.
The smell of cinnamon and coffee floods my nostrils as I step inside, and Whit spots where Mom and Denver are seated toward the back of the small café. They’re chatting like old friends while Mom cradles her massive mug to her chest, a smile glowing on her normally pallid face.
“Hey.” I sidle up next to Denver’s chair, while Whit immediately crouches down next to Mom. “Thanks for staying here with her, seriously. You probably could’ve just told Anette not to let her leave.”
“But then if she wanted to leave, she might get scared when they tried to stop her. Figured it was easier to play it off like we’re just catching up.”
“Thank you.” My eyes flit over to Mom. He’s right—she would’ve gotten confused and maybe even combative, if people forced her to stay in the building against her will.
“Don’t need to thank me, Bear. It’s the least I could do. Besides, I was here getting coffee for her daughter, so ditching her wouldn’t have been a good look.”
He points to the two coffees on the table—one hot, one iced.
“Unfortunately, you’re choosing between previously hot and previously iced. They’re both disgustingly room temperature now.” He leans forward to look at the cups with a sour expression.
“I think I’m gonna pass and take Mom home.”
“Okay…Hey, before you go.” His tone drops to barely more than a hushed whisper. So quiet I need to lean in and train my ears. “Are we good after last night?”
“We’re good.” I force a small smile, still so fucking scared, even though minutes ago I was placing bets on our relationship. “It’s going to take a bit of time to fully trust I won’t get hurt, though.”
It’s not the answer he wants, or even deserves, given he’s done nothing but be honest and kind to me. All I’m able to give him right now is an opportunity to get back to where we were.
And Denver Wells takes his shot without hesitation.
“Good thing I’m ready to prove I can be trusted with your heart.”