Chapter 35
brOOKE
“You miss him.”
Sitting on the couch, Whit’s voice was in my ear as she stood over my shoulder, reading the screen of the laptop on my lap. I had the RSVP webpage pulled up for our ten-year class reunion.
“It’s been a long time,” I replied softly.
“And you’ve tried to move on. But it hasn’t worked. What happened with that one guy—Derek?”
I shrugged, my posture listless and my face passive. It hadn’t worked out with Derek any more than with James, Patrick, or Mateo. It always fizzled out by the time we hit the four-week mark.
Aside from my love life, or lack thereof, I was doing significantly better now—my meds were better, with fewer side effects.
I was eating better, and I’d found an exercise regimen that kept my body fit and my energy levels more consistent.
I was going to counseling regularly. All in all, things were looking up.
But despite all the positive changes, was I completely happy in life? My brain answered itself with a resounding No.
“Maybe,” Whit continued, “it never works out with these guys because you know they aren’t what you want. Who you want.”
She didn’t have to say a name.
“He deserves better,” I replied.
We’d had this conversation many times, but Whit was tenacious.
“He deserves the truth,” she countered.
As usual, my best friend was right. I was lucky to have a friend who loved me enough to know when I needed her to push me.
My cursor hovered over the RSVP button.
Whit continued: “You miss him. You’ve pushed him away—too many times now. I don’t blame him for giving up.” I nodded my agreement. “You need to make the next move,” she continued. “Go to him. The reunion is the perfect excuse. It’s okay to be scared. It’s not okay to let the fear rule your life.”
Leaning my head back against the sofa, I met her gaze. “When did you get so wise?”
She shrugged. “I am almost a year older than you.” She gave me a quick wink. “That’s my advice. Take it or leave it.”
Four-year-old Ivy was playing loudly in the corner of the living room in our same duplex, which now overflowed with her various colorful toys. Whit sat down on the floor beside her daughter, clearly done convincing me of her sage wisdom. You can lead a horse to water, and all that.
I scrolled back up to the list of “attending” guests. His name screamed at me from the screen.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I pressed RSVP.
Whit came to my bedroom door while I was packing. She stood in the doorframe, a silent presence.
“I’m going to do it, Whit,” I told her, feigning the confidence I didn’t yet feel.
“I’m going to tell him everything. Everything that had happened—the real story.
Why I was such a mess. Why I ran after Ivy’s birthday.
Cheryl had me type it all up. She thought it would help me—you know .
. . say what I need to say, fully. Even if nothing ever happens with us again, I want him to know the full truth. ”
Whit nodded encouragingly.
A small head full of dark curls approached Whit’s side, wrapping chubby fingers around her waist.
“Mommy,” she tugged at Whit’s shirt. “I dis many.” Ivy held up four fingers.
“Yeah, baby,” Whit confirmed. “You’re four.”
Ivy turned her attention to my packing, her round eyes surveying my suitcase.
“Aunt Bubby go bye-bye?”
Whit threaded her fingers through her daughter’s hair as she replied.
“Yes, baby girl. Let’s wish Aunt Bubby luck, okay?”
“Luck!” Ivy shrieked excitedly, smacking her hand over her mouth and blowing me a loud kiss. Then she ran back to the living room to play, chatting animatedly to herself.
Bag packed and filled with resolve, I headed to Vermont a day early. I had reached out to Nic, and we were meeting for coffee at The Beanery, the local coffee place on Birch Hollow’s Main Street.
Nic’s grin spread wide when she entered the coffee shop and saw me at a table, sipping my latte.
I admired her plum-colored dress, her denim jacket, her lightweight patterned scarf, and her laced-up combat boots.
She had a style that on someone else might’ve looked ridiculous, but on her, it just worked.
Her usual strawberry-blonde hair was colored a vibrant shade of red and cut into an adorable pixie cut.
I stood and leaned down to hug her, feeling her enthusiasm ripple through me as she returned the hug.
“You look good!” she said exuberantly. “I swear it’s like you haven’t even aged since high school. It’s seriously unfair. You must share your skincare routine.”
I choked out a hearty laugh. Same old Nic. I unwound my own scarf and set it next to me. My hands suddenly felt clumsy and in need of a purpose.
“You look great, too,” I returned honestly. “How’s Bryan?”
“Oh, perfect,” she said simply, on a sigh. “He’s taken up woodworking, of all things. Leave it to my tech geek to go for a lumberjack hobby—but whatever makes him happy, right?”
My heart gave a pang as she hopped up to order.
She came back with some sickeningly sweet-looking Frappuccino. “So tell me—you’re still in Boston? Still a nurse?”
“Yes and yes. I’m in NICU. It’s—heartbreaking.
Challenging. But sometimes they don’t have anyone else, you know?
They’re tiny and alone, and they just need someone to nurture them.
” She nodded, prodding me along. “Sometimes they do have people in their corner—and we get to know the families. Some families come every day, for months. It’s a really fierce kind of love.
Pretty amazing to witness,” I continued.
“What about you? I’m sorry—I don’t even know what you do these days. ”
“I work a few days a week at Fran’s. You know, the craft store on Main?
Though Bryan likes to joke that I spend my whole paycheck on yarn for my various projects.
” She beamed again. “I like to crochet.” She pulled out her phone, swiping to pictures of various cute handmade animals.
“They’re called amigurumi,” she explained.
She set her phone down, waiting for me to pick up the conversation.
“They’re all really cute,” I told her with a smile. “Do you . . . keep in touch with Cade?” I ventured.
Her eyes lit up. “You don’t even know—he’s back.
He lives here, in Birch Hollow—full time.
That wilderness training program he did a while back?
I guess he made some connections, and they asked him to join their Search-and-Rescue team.
Him and Echo both. He comes over to hang out with Bryan all the time. And we have a standing game night.”
“I—knew he’d moved,” I began slowly. “But I didn’t know where. And I saw he was coming to the reunion,” I admitted.
“I thought he’d be bringing Chrissa,” she began, answering the question I wasn’t brave enough to ask. “But they broke up—oh, a couple months ago, I think?” She seemed to rack her brain for the specifics. “She was sweet, but she definitely wasn’t the one.”
I fiddled with my drink cup, telling my heart to stop fluttering that Cade was presumably single.
“He’ll be happy to see you,” she continued encouragingly, her head bobbing.
“I’ll be happy to see him, too,” I told her truthfully. “I screwed it up, you know,” I told her. “With us.”
“I know.” She looked thoughtful. “So—unscrew it up.”
She made it sound so simple. I only hoped my newfound courage would last long enough that I could do just that.
“You sure you don’t want me to wait out here with you?
” Nic asked as we stood in front of the cabin where the reunion was held.
I smiled at her cute flannel PJs and slippers.
Bryan, of course, had on a matching ensemble, to fit the get-together’s “high school sleepover” theme.
I had worn some of my comfort clothes, baggy cotton shorts in a worn sweatpant material, a snug-fitting solid tee, and an oversized sweatshirt.
“No, I'm good,” I told her, as confidently as I could. “You go on in with Bryan. I just want to catch him when he comes in. I want to see if I can talk to him, before we’re surrounded by dozens of classmates.”
And before I lost my nerve.
Twenty or thirty guests filtered by, all making their way into the large cabin. I shifted my weight from foot to foot. He was coming, wasn’t he?
Then I saw him.
He wore plaid pajama pants, flip flops, and a t-shirt that said VERMONT SEARCH AND RESCUE in block letters on the upper left side of the chest.
When his eyes met mine, recognition, surprise, and—could that be happiness?—crossed his face.
He stopped in front of me, close enough I could count his freckles.
His face looked—different. It took me a moment to realize that his normally clean-shaven face was now covered in stubble.
I liked it. I wanted to run my hands across the rough texture.
His face looked older, still boyish but with an added ruggedness that only heightened his appeal.
“Hi,” I ventured, suddenly feeling more shy than I’d ever felt in my life.
“Hi,” he returned.
Summoning boldness, my hands encircled his wrists. I didn’t see him walk up with a date, so I hoped the move didn’t border on inappropriate. I just felt like I needed to anchor myself to him, somehow. He didn’t pull away from my touch.
This was real. This was happening.
I could do this.
“Can I tell you a secret?” I gazed up into those uniquely-colored eyes.
“Yeah,” he breathed out. It felt like he’d been holding his breath for a long, long time.
I met his gaze steadily, and swallowed the lump in my throat.
“I came here—for you.”
Suddenly his arms came around me, crushing me into a hug. Tears stung my eyes. I’d forgotten how safe I felt with his arms around me. All at once, I was a ten-year-old girl again, wrapped in the arms of her best friend in the world. He grabbed my hand in his, like not a moment had passed.
Was I forgiven—just like that? I still needed to talk to him—to explain everything. I still had so much atoning to do.
A few raindrops hit my head, and I looked to the sky.
“C’mon,” he encouraged, pulling me inside.