5. Ellison
“The Whiskey’s Gone” By Alli Walker plays loudly for the fourth time through the speakers of my car as I drive the last hour home to Blackstone Falls. The energy drinks and candy bars are wearing off faster than the miles ticking down, and we’ve passed jittery and are headed straight for loopy.
But it’s the good kind of loopy. The high-on-life kind that can only come from being so close to something you’ve dreamed would be your forever.
And now it’s finally within my grasp.
I‘d thankfully been able to terminate my rental agreement with the stipulation that I wouldn’t be getting my security deposit back. But joke’s on them because I probably would have given them my kidney if it got me out of Savannah.
The thought should be troubling but it’s not.
I’d made any number of excuses over the years for why I couldn’t come back to Blackstone Falls. I was mad at Montana for seemingly throwing us away, giving up on a future I wished could be ours. The abruptness from loving to indifferent had destroyed me, making it impossible for those wounds to heal.
And in the dead of night, I was mad at myself for not fighting harder—against him and my parents. Those nights, whispers of doubt played through my mind, hinting that I’d missed something and that Montana would never have let me go.
Not like that.
But they’d always been gone before morning, disappearing like dew on the grass when the sun comes up.
The anger had eventually morphed into hurt, and I’d been too ashamed to come back to the only place that would ever be home. Somehow the longer I stayed away, the easier it was to push Blackstone Falls, and Montana, from my mind.
Deep down, I knew I couldn’t run forever.
But shame still tried to swallow me whole, knowing that Nan’s death was the only thing I couldn’t ignore. She may have been Montana’s grandmother, but she’d made me feel like hers too. Our relationship had been too precious, too full of love, for me to not. It’d been the catalyst for rearranging my life—for taking a stand for myself and purging the things that no longer suited me.
My parents—my mother especially—had been part of that. Or at least as much as I could manage.
But Nan’s voice had been so clear in my head the day I’d donned all black and stood next to Montana, my hand clenched in his at her gravesite. I never said a word about it, but I’d bet the trust fund I couldn’t access that I’d heard Nan say welcome home, my darling girl as if she was standing right next to me.
I’d always teased her about the nickname and the way she always said the g in darling when so often her accent was heavier than her homemade poundcake. It made me feel special and I’d loved it. I loved the care and the adoration I felt whenever she greeted me. I felt fancy being her darling like being in one of those old black-and-white movies she loved so much.
Nan and Grandad taught me so much about love and life and the kind of person I wanted to wake up next to every morning. My young girl heart didn’t understand back then the complications of the world I’d grown up in—the things that would prevent me from being able to fall in love with my best friend.
I’d confided in Nan—more during the years that Montana had been achingly absent from my life. My heart had broken when I left Blackstone Falls for college, but I was still so hopeful we could make it. We weren’t dating, but that didn’t mean I didn’t consider him mine.
And with high school behind us and my eighteenth birthday in the rearview mirror, I thought we could finally break free of the things holding us back. But I’d been wrong.
And to this day, I still didn’t truly understand why. There’d been no dramatic falling out or declaration of distaste toward each other. He’d simply been there one day and had all but vanished the next. I’d wanted to go home—to leave Georgia and return to Tennessee—and finish school where I could see Montana every day, but my parents had put a stop to that real quick. They’d somehow managed to make a new life down the road from my school in Georgia, renting our house in Blackstone Falls in the next breath. I hadn’t left my life behind—the parts I hated most had followed me.
And the parts I loved had stayed away.
Montana stayed away.
The distance between us obliterated what was left of the organ in my chest and with it the hope of home.
Nan had filled the void the best she could, never giving up on me even when I wanted to give up on myself. She loved me more when Montana loved me less, making weekly phone calls and video chats with her a priority.
A lifeline.
The abrupt end to our Tuesday night ritual left a hole in my heart that was still gaping two years later.
He’d lost his grandmother, but it was me who needed the support and strength to get through the service. I owed it to her.
There were a million things I should have been here for, but the longer I was away, the harder it was to come back.
I missed so much.
Swallowing the regret, I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly as I try to let Cole Swindell sing me sweet nothings in the form of “She Had Me At Heads Carolina.”
But just like my musings, it’s cut short when my father’s name flashes across the dashboard. Sighing, I accept the call and wait only a second before his voice comes over the speakers.
“Well, I guess you didn’t wait till tomorrow to hit the road,” he says, his voice full of tender amusement.
“I was too excited to wait. Besides, the drive isn’t that far,” I say even though it’s definitely the farthest I’ve ever driven on my own. The thought makes me frown.
“I wish you would stay at the house.”
“Honestly, Dad, there are few things I’d like to do less than stay there.”
He sighs, and while I wish I could spare his feelings, I won’t take it back. The house I grew up in wasn’t a home. It was a showpiece and nothing more.
“It was worth a try,” he says with a chuckle. “I need you to do me a favor while you’re there.”
“What’s that?”
“I need you to go to our place and get a burger—one with bacon and grilled onions and that sauce they won’t let me buy by the gallon—and then send me a picture so I can live vicariously through you.”
“Dad.” I laugh but my heart still warms at the way he says our place. Boots On Bar and Grill is a Blackstone Falls landmark, and my mother would rather wear clothes from a discount store than step foot inside.
So it was perfect. It became our little getaway when we just wanted to catch up for a while without my mother lurking and sucking every ounce of joy from the room. I’d been envious of the relationship Montana’s sisters had with their mother—it’s why I never let myself be close to any of them.
“Oh and the onion rings! Can’t forget those.” He sighs wistfully like he’s been dreaming about the beer-battered veggies. “You know I can’t get away with stuff like that when your mother is around.” His tone is still light as he says the words, but all I can feel is the sadness.
For him.
For me.
For the things I still don’t understand.
“Well, it’s certainly a hardship,” I say, taking his lead and putting as much enthusiasm as I can manage into the words, “but I’ll do it for you.”
“That’s my girl.” A beat passes and then another as those three words hang between us. My whole life I wished he would choose me over her, but he didn’t, and even now those three words feel hollow.
“Is it all right if I hop in the pool this week? You said no one is at the house until Saturday, right?”
He clears his throat, and I can see in my mind the way his face falls at my lack of acknowledgment.
“It is. Sundown Realty manages the house and property. I let them know to expect you in and out of there this week.” Pausing, he adds, “I think Montana does some work for them. I know he’s been to the house to handle some repairs on an on-call basis maybe.”
“He didn’t mention it,” I say while my mind processes that interesting development. A sly grin spreads across my face as an idea starts to take root, making my heart beat a little faster. It’s not foolproof, but I’m feeling good about my odds.
“He’s done well out there with the farm.”
Even though he can’t see me, I narrow my eyes. “Careful, Dad, that almost sounded like you’re being nice to my best friend.”
A heavy sigh fills the line. “I’ve never not liked Montana but…it’s complicated. I probably owe him an apology,” he admits, and I snort because he definitely owes Montana an apology. “I’m not proud of all the choices I’ve made in my life, Ellison, and given the chance, I’m sure I’d change a few—but life isn’t black-and-white and the choices sure as hell aren’t easy.”
It’s too heavy of a conversation for the last leg of my drive, and I need a little boost to get me to the county line.
“We can talk about it later, Dad. I’ll text you when I get home, okay?”
“It’s always been home, huh?”
“Always.”
“Drive safe, El, I love you.”
“I will. Love you too, Dad.”
Disconnecting the call, I let all of the unrest go as I scroll through my playlists until I find “Keep Up” by RaeLynn, shimmying a little in my seat as her voice echoes through the car.
This is exactly what I need to get me home.
My spirit sings with each passing mile, and by the time I pass the sign welcoming me to Blackstone Falls, I have enough bravado to take a gamble. If it pays off, it might just be the best welcome home present a girl could ask for.