Chapter 25 Collins
Collins
I slept like a rock for a few blissful hours under the weight of Brady’s arm on my waist. I woke up to the glow of the moon shining directly through his window.
As soon as I felt the light on my face, my head started whirring with the events of yesterday.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to time my breathing with Brady’s—slow and steady.
It didn’t work, and I didn’t want to toss and turn so much that I ended up waking him. I slid out from under his arm and moved as quietly as I could out of his room and to the other side of the apartment. The ghost with the chewing gum winked at me when I walked through the living room.
“Grow up,” I muttered, blushing.
When I got to my room, I paused for a second—not quite sure what to do next. I didn’t want to try and go back to sleep or stay here. I felt restless. But not in a bad way. Maybe I was just ready to seize the day—because of Brady.
And then I knew where I wanted to go. I slid into a pair of jeans and one of Boone’s old Carhartt jackets before making my way out of the apartment, down the stairs, and through the back door.
My plan was to be back before Brady woke up, but right now, I needed to go to Toades.
There was no sound as I walked through the almost-darkness. It was that blink-and-you’d-miss-it time of night when the sky was indigo instead of black. All I could hear was the sound of my steps and my breath as I picked up the pace—trying to stay warm.
Thoughts about everything flooded my head, but most of them somehow came back to Brady.
Last night was fun, but more than that, it was…
intimate. I felt safe with Brady—stable.
I’d spent my whole life waiting to get out of this place, and once I did that, I never stayed in a place long enough to establish any roots.
Which was okay because, no matter what, I always muscled my way forward.
But before I came back home, I wasn’t moving in any direction—forward or backward. But I also wasn’t stuck. It felt more like I was existing behind a dirty window. I could see my life, but I couldn’t feel it—couldn’t get close enough to it to change it.
But I just stayed there—never looking back to see how far I’d strayed from home and from myself. When I got here, it felt like I’d never find my way back.
Now I didn’t think that was still the case, and I wondered how much of it had to do with Brady. Maybe not directly, but indirectly, Brady’s fingerprints were all over my time at home.
And I loved it.
I pulled my jacket tighter around me as I walked. Snow started to fall in slow motion. It wasn’t quite cold enough for it to stick yet, but I was fairly confident we’d have a few inches by the end of the day.
Even though I constantly lamented over my fucked-up sleep schedule, I didn’t know if I ever wanted to lose this—being awake when everyone else was entering their deepest sleep.
In Sweetwater Peak, it was when the town looked the most like itself.
It was when the cracks in the sidewalk were the most visible, when the shadows got bigger and darker, and when the spirits had the town to themselves.
When I got to Toades, I stood in front of the old house and looked up at it. Like everything else, it looked more menacing in the dark—the windows suddenly became eyes that I felt could see everything, and the door was a mouth that wanted nothing more than to swallow you whole.
I made my way up the steps and grabbed the spare key out of a birdhouse on the far side of the porch—super secure.
I shut the door and locked it behind me, intending to make my way up to the second floor immediately.
But when I turned from the door, my heart fell so hard I almost heard it hit the floor.
All of the first-floor inventory was in piles, and the paintings were off the walls.
The hardwood floors felt almost squishy beneath my feet.
I walked toward the back of the shop, where I saw that the back door was missing.
It was replaced with a piece of plywood.
Neither Clarke nor my mom had told me that the door didn’t make it through the storm.
I had expected issues with the roof, which had gotten shoddier and shoddier as the years went on, but I thought this floor would be fine.
I felt the tears push their way to my eyes as I took in Toades—this beautiful thing my parents had built.
Our family was inextricable from this place.
Clarke’s and my heights were measured in the hall closet.
There were pictures of us in the vintage frames.
I spent just as much of my life here growing up as I did in my own house.
We couldn’t lose this.
I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath, trying to remember Brady’s assurances.
We aren’t going to lose this.
I almost turned around and left, but I came here for a reason and that reason was upstairs. So I put on my blinders and moved up the stairs.
The first bedroom on the right was where my parents kept the music console that Clarke and I loved—the one that Earnest was anchored to.
When I walked into the room, I didn’t know what I was going to feel, but I hoped it wasn’t nothing—after everything I had felt in the past twenty-four hours, I hoped I wasn’t still empty.
I walked over to the console and thumbed through a few of the records next to it.
I picked one that I knew Earnest liked—the Dusty Springfield single “The Windmills of Your Mind.” I slid it out of its case, carefully lowered it onto the turntable, and switched it on before making my way to the love seat underneath the window.
I let my head fall back, and I closed my eyes.
I wasn’t exactly sure why I felt like I needed to come here. All I knew is that when I woke up with Brady this morning, I remembered what it was like to bask in the glow of the moon instead of turning my back to it and living in the shadow it cast.
My path was lit. I just had to follow it.
I was still scared of the disappointment, but I had to know. I had to be brave enough to face the outcome—whatever it was. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel…hopeful, and that was dangerous. Hope is one of those things that can be crushed in an instant. It terrified me. I just…I felt good.
I knew a lot of it had to do with Brady—all of it, maybe. He’d succeeded at burrowing himself into the cavern in my chest, and it wasn’t empty anymore.
A few minutes later, it felt like there was the softest of breezes in the room, and when I opened my eyes, I knew I’d see Earnest next to me on the couch.
He was in his final form—a young man with a button-down shirt, open sweater, and floppy hair. He didn’t smile when I opened my eyes—just looked at me.
“Hi,” I said quietly.
“Hello.” His voice wasn’t completely clear. There was still that radio static buzz behind his words.
“I’ve missed you,” I breathed—relieved that I could hear him at all. “I haven’t seen you since I’ve been home.”
“I’ve seen you,” Earnest said.
“I’ve only been here once,” I said. I didn’t tell him I’d been avoiding this place, but I think he knew.
“It didn’t feel like you were ever going to come see me.” Earnest looked down at his white, wispy hands, and I felt like a jerk.
Avoiding Toades—avoiding him—was the same as avoiding Clarke and my parents. All of them felt like a reminder of what I felt like I’d lost, but I guess they were also reminders of everything I had…and I had a lot here—even more now.
“I’ve been trying to get your attention, so I had to broaden my reach.”
My mind went back to the familiar presence I felt in the apartment. “You came to Coop’s?” I asked.
“I tried, but I faded too much by the time I got there—you couldn’t see me.” Brady’s was close enough that I thought Earnest would be fine going there. Maybe he’d been here for too long. “It was hard to see you. It was like looking at you through a windshield in the rain. And now…”
“Now what?”
“You still feel different.” The static got stronger. “Far away. I have to strain to hear you. It’s like something’s…jammed.”
Was that why they weren’t talking back? Because they were having trouble hearing me too?
“At the shop, in the apartment…I was shouting at you, and you didn’t even flinch. I even moved all of your camera equipment. Well, as much as I could. I’m not as strong over there.”
“You’re the one who kept pushing the suitcase out from under my bed?”
Earnest nodded. “Why is it under there anyway? You haven’t even touched it.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek instead of answering. Even though the desire to start capturing moments had been pushing its way back up to the surface, I still hadn’t pulled the trigger on actually getting a camera out yet.
“Are you okay?”
“I wasn’t. Not when I got here,” I said, honestly. “But I’m getting there, I think.”
“Because of the upholsterer?” Earnest grinned.
I didn’t know how badly I needed to see that—to feel at least kind of forgiven.
I wished I could hear him clearly. I liked that Earnest knew about Brady.
It felt like Brady was the reason I was here—why I was brave enough to even try to talk to Earnest.
“God, you’re so nosy,” I said, feigning annoyance. “And no. But it’s been nice to have him next to me on the way.”
“You’re blushing,” Earnest said through the static, then turned his face toward the bedroom window. “I miss that feeling.”
I’d never given too much thought to Earnest’s life. His death was a tragedy; he had been young and handsome—of course he’d left someone behind.
“Did you ever try to find…the person who made you blush?” I asked. “Afterward?”
Earnest nodded. “But I couldn’t. That’s the only thing I remember before ending up here—with the console and the two of you.
” That was decades after he died. I stayed quiet.
I found a lot of comfort in knowing that there was some sort of space outside of human understanding where people like Earnest could continue to exist, but I was constantly reminded that the rules of it weren’t set in stone. “This has been my home ever since.”
“Have you seen the damage?”
Earnest nodded. “There are a couple others here right now. All of us tried to move something in front of the door after it broke, but that goes way past our limits of turning lights on and off and pushing cameras out from under the bed.”
“I’m sorry that happened—to your home.”
“It’s yours, too, Collins,” Earnest said. I thought his voice was clearer, but it was more likely that my mind was playing tricks on me.
He was right. This was my home, and I wasn’t going to let anything happen to it.