4
Courtland
A three-car pileup on the highway meant that despite my awesome driving, I missed my grandfather's funeral. I pulled over to help, waited for the paramedics to arrive, lost track of time, and now I'm scrambling to find a parking spot near the community center for the collation, but it's packed.
Giving up, I park behind Old Man Hatfield's pickup, boxing him in, and dash inside. I enter, trembling from the cold. A familiar figure approaches. Heat pools in my belly, warming me up all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes, as Buzz gets closer.
He's got the same floppy brown hair he's always had and the same sparkling blue eyes, brimming with kindness. But this Buzz Lightyear is all grown up and one hundred percent man. Putting out fires clearly does a body good. His wide shoulders, massive biceps, and tree-trunk legs are making his navy suit work harder than it was designed to.
"Court,"
he rumbles in that sexy, deep voice, stretching his arms out. I melt into his strong body, the exhaustion of the journey and the jet lag finally catching up with me. He smells like soap with a faint trace of burned wood.
"What happened?"
"There was an accident on Route 9."
"Shit. Is everyone okay?"
"Yeah. Just needed to apply pressure to an elderly passenger's head and keep him conscious until the paramedics showed up."
Buzz shakes his head, smiling at me, his white teeth all perfect and shiny.
"Can you ever not be a hero?"
"I get called many things. That's usually not one of them."
"I'm so happy you're back. How long are you staying for?"
Before I can answer, my mother calls out.
"Courtland!"
"Hey, Mom."
She reaches us, and we exchange a brief hug. I explain why I missed the funeral.
"Well, it's good you made it,"
she says, every word perfectly controlled and measured.
And so begins the first of what I’m sure will be many awkward silences between us.
When a parent does something so bad it fundamentally upends the traditional parent-child dynamic, it's a hard thing to recover from. I'm at a place where I've forgiven her for what she did, but it's created a distance between the two of us we haven't been able to bridge in over thirteen years.
Because even worse than her cheating was what happened once it came out into the open—she didn't fight to save her marriage. She just stood by and watched as Dad moved the two of us to Boston.
And the real kicker? She's a romance novelist. She spends her days crafting stories about love and trust and the importance of having good relationships, something she's failed at miserably in her own life.
"I should get back to everyone,"
she says with a tight smile.
"Are you staying with Brock?"
This would normally be the part where Buzz interjects since no one calls him by his legal name, but he's drifted away from us. Partly, I suspect, to give us some privacy, but probably mainly because he's uncomfortable being around her. It's amazing how something that happened so long ago can still affect us all these years later.
That's the real reason why I don't return to Clovelly as often as I'd like to. Too many painful memories come roaring back to life, and I don't like that one bit.
"No. I'm staying at the inn,"
I reply since Buzz's twin brother, Howie, is crashing in his spare room after getting injured in the season opener.
Buzz and Howie both seem to have done a better job of moving on from the affair. They have a pretty good relationship with their dad. I want the same with Mom, but for whatever reason, we just can't seem to make it work.
"Of course. I'll…see you later?"
I nod vaguely. "Sure."
She leaves, and Buzz throws an arm over my shoulder.
"That went well."
"Totally,"
I mutter, my gaze sweeping across the sea of people, eager to move on. Looks like almost everyone in town turned up.
"You okay?"
"Yep."
"Who are you trying to find?"
he asks. I shoot him a look to say he knows exactly who. He chuckles and shakes his head but doesn't let go of me.
"You can't seriously be jealous of someone you haven't met."
"I totally can. How dare you make a friend without me. And axe throwing, really?"
"What? Zane and I are just hanging out. After Cameron dumped me for being too needy and with Howie injured and unable to do much other than mope, it's nice to have someone to do stuff with."
"But axe throwing?"
I repeat, just in case my tone wasn't mocking enough the first time.
"Zane finds cool activities to do around town. Axe throwing was fun. Last week we went to a silent book club."
"A what?"
"A silent book club."
"What the hell is that?"
"It was held in the library. There's no assigned book; you just read whatever you feel like. And no one talks."
"Well, at least the guy can read. Unless he brought a comic book?"
Buzz tries not to smile, even though I'm totally being a jerk.
"Stop being so…you. It was cool, actually. He's a good guy."
"I'll be the judge of that."
"Court, come on. Be nice. Think of him like a puppy. He's a little lost and new in town, but everyone loves him."
That streak’s about to end.
"You know what happens to puppies, right?" I say.
"They need love and assurance and guidance?"
"No. They grow up, get old, and need to be put down."
Buzz elbows me in the ribs.
"I like my answer more. Give the guy a chance, that's all I'm asking. He's been really good for my TDS."
Twin Dependency Syndrome.
A totally made-up thing, but a condition Buzz has convinced himself he has nonetheless. Says it explains his need to always be around people and why he's five for five getting dumped for the same reason—being too needy.
I think there's a much simpler explanation. He dates idiots who don't see what an incredible guy he is. I would kill to be the center of his world, and guys are dumping him for it? Are you kidding me? I can't with people sometimes.
"How did you meet him anyway?"
I ask, my eyes landing on a ponytailed guy around our age. Zane sounds like a ponytail name.
Does that make me judgy?
Possibly.
Do I care?
Not one fucking bit.
"At a funeral."
"Whose funeral?"
"Lynne Davenport's."
"He knew her?"
"Not exactly."'
I turn to Buzz.
"What does that mean?"
"Well…"
His blue eyes dart from side to side the way they always do whenever he's uncomfortable.
"Zane is a couple of years younger than us and hasn't figured out what he wants to do with his life yet."
"Uh-huh…"
"He was at the funeral in a professional capacity."
"Like an escort?"
"No."
He sighs like he really doesn't want to come out with it. He finally caves.
"He's a professional mourner."
"A what?"
"People pay him to go to funerals."
"You're kidding."
"I'm not."
I let out a low, sarcastic laugh.
"Now I really can't wait to meet him."
"Behave, Court. Please. For me."
"I will. But only for you."
My eyes meet his, and when he smiles gratefully, all I want to do is reach out and kiss him. Kiss him to show him all the emotions I have for him I've never been able to put into words. Kiss him to let him know he means more to me than anyone in the world. Kiss him so hard that everyone here—including any ponytailed professional mourners among us—can see loud and clear that Buzz is mine.
I know I'm acting jealous and irrational, but I'm not going to apologize for it. Because it's Buzz.
He's the best, and he deserves the best.
Is that person me?…
No one knows better than I do that I am far from perfect. But when it comes to him, I'd give up everything in my life for the chance to show him how a man treats the man he loves—perceived flaws and all.
Even though I'm leaving for Boston tomorrow, I'm going to tell him how I feel before I go.
I've waited far too many years already.