Chapter 10
10
Laird
“I’m sorry.”
That’s the last thing I wanted to hear her say.
An apology doesn’t really make up for being forgotten altogether. I just wish we had been on the same page. If I’d known she really didn’t think twice about me, I wouldn’t have kept her hanging around my thoughts, wondering what happened.
I could have moved on with my life instead of living in the memories of the best night of it. It’s a lot to digest.
Years wasted.
The door is wide open, the cold night breezing into the tiny space. Although it’s dark inside and out, I can see her pretty face. My chest still tightens like the defector it is.
She shivers but reaches out. “Are you okay?”
Backing away from her, I step off the small porch and glance down at my boots. I didn’t bother with the laces or even have time to put on underwear. When we lost power, only one thing crossed my mind. Her. “I should have left well enough alone,” I reply.
When she lowers her hand to her side, she says, “We talk in circles but going in opposite directions. Will I ever understand what you mean when you make certain comments?”
It’s a keen observation and more accurate than I care to admit. I’ve been chasing a past that feels more made up in my head than based in reality, a circle of my own undoing. “I don’t think you’re supposed to understand anything about me anymore. That’s what moving on is.”
“You say that as if we’ve had a lifetime together, not a few hours.”
I scoff, more at myself, but the weight on my shoulders is still a burden to carry for something that only existed in my head.
A glutton for punishment, I kick the toe of my boot against the small concrete platform, feeling every bit the loser she sees in me. “Hours? That’s what we’ve boiled down to?” I glance toward the moon again, but I’m caught in the wind, giving me a harsh reminder and waking me up to what’s in front of me now. Her truth.
There’s nothing left to fight for. So what am I doing? She’s been very clear. Austin meant nothing to her. I can’t beg her to love me just so I can be the one to end it.
Would I? Would I end it if given a second chance?
Would I have left that hotel room and caught my plane without stopping at the café in between?
Should I have treated her like any other fuck I have on the road?
I was numb to the drugs, the women, and the music. When I met her, my whole life changed. In an instant. I knew it then. I still might . . .
So no, there’s no way I would have treated her less than I did. She was everything I dreamed possible that weekend. I wanted it to last forever. I wanted us to last for eternity. Instead of her love, the memories will haunt me.
When I look up at her, she’s brave enough to stand there and still face me. What meant the world to me didn’t mean anything to her. She hasn’t lied. I was just hoping for a different answer. Poppy’s not the problem. I am for making us into something we weren’t.
Leaves batter my legs when the wind picks up. My feelings aside, I need to get her to safety. “I get that we didn’t leave on good terms. As you stated earlier, we’re not even friends, but you are my responsibility while you’re on this property.”
“That’s what you came all this way to say?”
I nod over my shoulder. “It’s not that far.”
When I turn back, she smiles. “You still bothered to go the distance for me.”
Why is she looking at me like I’m some kind of hero?
I recognize that spark in her eyes. It turned to fire once we were alone together. Now, I can’t bear her looking at me in the same way, so I pick at the splintered wood of the doorway instead. “I would have traveled the world for you.”
It’s hard to escape the silence between us. Shaking my head, I hate myself for making it worse. “We lost electricity, but this cabin doesn’t have a generator.” Daring myself to look her in the eyes again, I direct my gaze back to her.
A thud alerts me to a growing pain in my chest. Only once, but that’s all it takes for the knife to twist a little deeper. Her knife obsession is beginning to make more sense. “We need to move you to the main house.”
She shifts, her hand on her hip, and appears to take quick inventory of the mess. When she looks back at me, she says, “I was hoping the electricity would come back on. ”
“I can’t look at it in the dark. It’s too cold out here.”
“You’re a man of many talents. Fuel pump expert, electrician. Next, you’ll tell me you play that guitar I saw in the living room. A real Renaissance man.”
Do I tell her?
Forgetting my name is one thing, but not remembering I’m in a band listed on the fucking hat she was wearing. Fuck, she goes hard.
She opens the door wider for me while hiding mostly behind it. “Do you want to come in while I pack?”
Accepting that offer isn’t my wisest decision. I should wait outside in the cold or return in a little while. But I need to get her out of here sooner rather than later. The temperatures are falling too fast for it to be safe in here for long.
I step inside and close the door behind me. With the curtains open, the last bit of moonlight reaches the edges of the cabin. Soon, it will be overhead, though, and of no use to us.
While she uses her phone’s flashlight, I scan the tiny house, surprised by how much of her stuff has taken over the place. “Looks like you settled in.”
“The Wi-Fi was spotty, so I was reorganizing my belongings. Nothing else to do since I wasn’t tired.”
“I was doing some reorganizing myself.” Why do I tell her so much? She doesn’t care. She doesn’t need to know.
“Oh yeah? Furniture? Clothes? The kitchen cabinets? Professionally speaking . . .” She waves her arm out so casually, like we’re friends, the opposite of what she said inside. “There’s a better way of organizing.”
Pretty sure she’s the last person I need to hear advice from. It’s up to me to fix this shit in my head. That’s why I’m in Deer Lake. Ironic that I came here to get her out of my system only to end up with her right back in my life .
“Those would be easier than fixing myself.”
I lie through my teeth like the fucker I am. I know damn well it’s not my head that needs fixing. It’s the organ in my chest. I’m not doing myself any favors by hanging around here. “I’ll be back in a few minutes to carry your stuff over.”
“I can manage on my own.”
Opening the door, I only turn enough to know she’s behind me. I nod, wishing I could look at her without reliving that night in Austin. The star she drew on the bag, a symbol of the brokenhearted? It’s now a symbol of us and what we used to be. “You’re the expert in that area.”
I head for the lake, thinking the cold air will be good to cool my blood from boiling. I’ll eventually get over the rest. It’s the anger that’s going to do me in. The hurt feelings are a bonus. Man, was I a sucker for her.
I thought she was the one, but she only wanted a good time.
She got it. I did too until the next morning.
On the positive side of her being here, she’s giving me the closure I never got prior. She doesn’t even remember my name, for fuck’s sake. If that’s not a door slamming in my face, I don’t know what is.
The rustling of brush under shoes has me looking back. She’s struggling to drag a bag weighing her down across the uneven ground. I hurry to assist. Her eyes go wide until she sees it’s me and smiles. That’s how I used to imagine us being—happy in each other’s company.
Fools and their dreams . . .
Taking the handle of one and grabbing the smaller black bag under my arm, I start for the main cabin. “I kept the lights out to save energy, but it’s still warm. There are three other bedrooms, but I think you’ll like the one my sister stays in best. ”
“You have a sister?” she asks, doing a quick double step to keep up.
The beanie’s back on her head, and it still feels like a perverse joke that she’s asking me about the band. Blow after fucking blow.
“Am I that big of a loser? And how many bands do you hang out with that I was so unmemorable?” As I eye the hat once more, to think I thought I was special makes me laugh out loud. “Yeah, I have a sister.” I shoulder the door open and move her shit inside. With the massive windows facing the lake, we at least get some reflection.
“I’m sorry, did I offend you?” She closes the door and locks the bolts. “I know I’m not supposed to ask personal questions.”
Stopping, I turn around. My head hurts from the mental gymnastics of what the fuck she’s talking about. “Why?”
“Why what?” There’s such a goddamn innocence written in her expression—her eyes peering at me as if they have all the answers—that now I’m more confused than ever.
“Am I living in an alternate universe?” I heave a sigh before moving to the bedroom where she’ll stay. I set her bags down and then quickly peruse the room. No air is slipping in around the window. No creatures—insect or otherwise—have moved in. I even check under the bed, which was left with clean sheets. Even the photos still hang straight on the wall.
I turn to leave and practically barrel over her. Catching her by the back of her arms, I keep from knocking her out of the path. “I didn’t know you were here.”
Her hands tighten around my forearms, and she whispers, “All along.” Although I can see her eyes searching mine, the dark makes it harder to read what’s really on her mind .
A gulp breaks the silence—mine and then hers, but our bodies remain pressed together. The rise of her chest captures my attention, and I watch it fall in the exhalation.
I want so desperately to cup her face, to kiss her lips, to remind her of what she walked away from that day. But it was her choice, and I wasn’t a part of it.
Her eyes drift down between us as if she feels the past interfering. But then she clears her throat and asks, “This is your sister’s room?”
The moment passes before we can save it. So I move along as well. “Nikki. Her name is Nikki.”
Her glances away are quick, but her eyes always return to mine. “That’s pretty.” It takes me a few seconds to realize I’m keeping her from leaving. Again.
Releasing her arms, she slips around me, only air caught in my grasp. I shove my hands in my pockets and walk to the door. “If you need anything—”
“I won’t bother. It seems I’ve done enough already.”
I think that’s the most honest thing she’s said to me. On that note, I close the door and leave, something I should have done more than two years ago.