Chapter Nine
CHAPTER NINE
R ORY HAD RUN away so quickly she had left her notebook and pen sitting under the tree.
He didn’t notice until after she’d run off, because he’d been watching her run from him.
She’d run like he was terrifying. After the whole incident with Riley yesterday, it was...
Shit.
So now he’d scared Rory. Great.
The one person he’d felt like he could talk to at all. Maybe that had been an illusion he’d been clinging to because nothing else felt...
Like her.
He picked up the notebook and the pen, and he stared at them. It was pretty. Gold-edged pages, a midnight blue cover with mushrooms and small animals on it. It was whimsical.
She had been a pretty whimsical kid. The way she’d talked about her favorite books like every fictional person in it was her best friend.
And now... She was pretty. She was able to put on a bright, cheery facade when delivering gift baskets. And then today, there had been such a deep sadness to her.
He knew about the middle school thing because he’d done what he could do to offset the bullying that had been about her crush on him.
What he hadn’t realized was how much it all still affected her.
He’d been golden back then. Everything had been. But for her... Her building blocks had felt wrong, and he had no idea what that was like. He knew what it felt like to be wrong now.
But his whole life had changed with a catastrophic blast. Hers had been a series of setbacks that had taken any fledgling confidence she might have had and cut it off down to the base of the stem. She had confidence. But it was new. Fragile. It kept having to try to come back in spite of all of it.
He was standing in rubble.
His whole life he’d been confident. His whole life things had been easy. He’d wanted something, and he’d gone out and gotten it, and people had been proud of him. His mom, his dad, his sister, the whole town.
Moving through the world had felt simple. Easy. Now it was like wading through a waist-high swamp.
He was constantly overwhelmed by what he couldn’t do.
He couldn’t make his scars go away. He couldn’t make himself give much of a shit about pleasing people, even while he watched the consequences of being such an unpleasant person destroy connections part of him wished he could build.
He couldn’t fix his brain. He couldn’t take back the way he’d been in those last months with Cassidy.
Yes, he had worked himself out of that space. He had changed some things. But those things would be changed forever.
He knew some things about himself now that he hadn’t before.
It was easy to think everything that had happened after the blast was caused by war. What he couldn’t escape was the fear that this was in him all along. If the only thing that had kept him from embracing all the worst parts of himself had been the accolades he’d gotten for being good. And the minute that was gone, so was his desire to be good .
He’d never taken drugs. His future had been too important to him. He’d never gotten drunk. He’d never done anything like that. He’d had no reason to want oblivion. His life had been perfect.
Then he’d been given a prescription for opioids. Pain pills.
And he’d found the addict inside him who had always been there, just waiting. Waiting to get that first hit.
He’d lived for the praise of other people. Then he’d lived for the relief the pills brought.
When it came right down to it, he didn’t have any practice living for himself.
He started to walk back toward the house, and he looked down at the notebook again. He shouldn’t look at it. But then, why not?
He was sitting there wallowing in the evidence of his own narcissism, so he might as well do it. It was probably a list of things to put in gift baskets. His probably said: no wine .
He opened up the notebook and realized he really shouldn’t have done that when he saw the list across the top. The Summer of Rory.
Climb the damn mountain.
He knew what the mountain was; she’d just told him about it. Did she really worry about stuff like that? That idea of being brave for other people? A hike that she hadn’t finished in high school?
Yes. She does. There was no hike you didn’t finish in high school, but there’s plenty you haven’t finished now.
His eyes skipped down to: Get a kiss (kiss from a stranger?) .
That same uncomfortable tightness he’d felt when he looked at her pretty freckled face that first day assaulted him again.
Get a kiss. Any kiss? And why?
In spite of himself, he could imagine himself giving her that kiss. But he wouldn’t want to stop. She would be so soft...
Hell. No.
A list like this suggested a sweetness he didn’t want to corrupt. Not at all.
Get a makeover.
She didn’t need a damned makeover. She was the most beautiful thing.
Throw a tantrum.
That made him laugh. She was a sparky thing, too. He would bet she’d be terrifying if she decided to throw a tantrum. He almost wanted to see it.
There were notes down at the bottom, too.
Go to Smokey’s? (post-makeover?)
Surprise the locals new look go out get kiss? go from zero to legend (like Gideon?)
He nearly dropped the notebook.
Zero to legend.
Hell, he knew how to do that in reverse.
But this felt...this felt like something he could help with.
He could see what all this was. It had something to do with all the things that she had just been telling him. Feeling like she’d been afraid all her life, and wanting to fix it. Wanting to change the way that people saw her.
Hell, he needed that, too.
He had come here to change himself. The first person he’d seen here was Rory Sullivan. And she’d felt like an angel.
She wanted to climb a mountain? Go out to the bar? Well, hell, he could help with that. Maybe it would be...a connection to who he’d been then. Maybe it would help him find a part of himself. The guy he’d been back then when he’d defended her against her bullies.
Something closer to a hero than he’d been for a long time.
He needed something .
And Rory’s list felt like something. Rory felt like something.
He was going to grab hold of it. Because why the hell not?
S HE ’ D LEFT HER list down at the creek, but when she went back to get it, it was gone. And that filled her with a sense of dread.
So much dread.
Because that list was embarrassing.
And it was giving her major middle-school-trauma flashbacks to think about him finding it. Would he wallpaper something with her list?
Get a kiss.
Maybe with a stranger.
That moment when he’d felt like he might be that stranger popped into her head and she nearly died of humiliation then and there.
No, no, no, no.
He wouldn’t wallpaper anything with it. She knew that.
Of course, just because he found the notebook didn’t mean he read it. But for some reason, she just had a feeling. Because it felt like her. Because it felt like school. Because it felt like something that would happen to a girl who was just such a loser.
Who was not now and never had been the cool kid.
Oh, because it had happened to her. And she still wanted to melt into the floor whenever she thought about it.
Great. Just great.
She drove up to his house, her heart thundering hard.
She didn’t know if she was angry or worried... She didn’t even know.
She sighed heavily and gripped her steering wheel. Bracing herself. Then she got out of the car and walked up to the front door, knocking firmly. He opened it.
“Did I leave my notebook?” she asked.
His face was completely neutral. “Yes.”
“Did you read it?”
His expression didn’t shift. “Yes.”
She felt everything inside her crumple up. He’d seen her...her deepest shame in that list. All the things she wasn’t. All the things she wasn’t brave enough to be.
He’d seen she needed a list to gather the courage to go on a hike and kiss a man.
“Great. So. You know now that I am sad.” She closed her eyes and put her hands on her head. “If you’re going to make fun of me, just go ahead and do it.”
He said nothing. And she finally screwed up the courage to look at him.
His blue gaze had gone serious, and the way he looked at her—into her—felt far too intimate.
“No,” he said. “Because I’m not in middle school. And what you wrote isn’t funny.”
“Oh...”
“It’s not sad to make plans. It looks like that’s what you’re doing.”
“I am,” she said insistently. “I’m working at leaving an impression.”
“Leaving an impression?”
“The other day when I went into the grocery store, John couldn’t remember my name. I have lived here since I was a kid. He couldn’t remember me. Because that’s how I am. Nobody remembers me. I’m not interesting, I’m not... I’m not trying to be whiny. But I just wanted to leave behind something bigger than myself. Like you.”
“I’m a legend ,” he said. “You mentioned that in the notes.”
She cringed.
“Yes,” she said slowly.
“Rory, I...” He looked stunned just then, like he’d run out of words.
“What?”
“You put that you wanted to go from zero to legend. You’re not...nothing. Just because this town doesn’t see it.”
“I know,” she said, but the pinching in her chest called her a liar. “I mean, I mostly know. But when I come back home to visit, I just want the story to be different than it is now. I want to leave on a high note. I want...”
“You want a parade.”
“Kind of,” she said, her heart tripping over itself.
“I decided to move back here. To buy back the ranch. I have plans. A lot like you have plans to move to Boston. But I don’t know what to do about...me.” He cleared his throat. “I want to help you.”
She panicked a little just then. Her heart fluttering rapidly.
The kiss.
He wanted to help her.
He—
“Part of my endeavor with my ranch is going to be to lead hikes. If you want to climb a mountain, I’m the person to help you with that.”
“Oh!” She laughed. She couldn’t help herself. Because...of course he hadn’t meant with the kiss.
“And you want to go out,” he said.
Her mouth snapped shut. “Makeover dependent, but yes.”
“You don’t need a makeover,” he said.
His face was so serious then, something in his gaze hot, and she found she was having trouble breathing.
“I feel like...for the kind of going out I want to do...”
He nodded. “If you want to change how you look to fit in at the bar, that’s one thing. But don’t feel like you have to change because something is wrong with you.”
But there had to be something wrong.
“I’ll take you out,” he said. “I’m not going to be able to help you become the life of the party, though I vaguely remember it. And maybe...”
“If I’m with you, we’re going to attract attention.”
“That is true. But I... I need to get used to it, and you need to make a splash, so...seems like it’d help us both.”
“Yes,” she said. “Okay.” She was starting to feel not so upset now. Not so terrified. This was a pretty reasonable solution. This could cover a lot of her problems. But when she imagined going out with Gideon, she imagined dancing with him, maybe. Having his hands on her. She coughed. “You don’t happen to know anything about rope climbing, do you?”
“What?”
“Never mind. That’s silly.”
“I do...”
“I don’t want to climb a rope. But it is something else that I quit. Something else I didn’t finish.”
“Well, it’s stupid to expect a bunch of students with no physical training to just go climb a rope. There, you have my two cents on that.”
“Thank you,” she said. “It is stupid. I was never going to be good at that.”
“You’ve gotta stop thinking that way. It’s not about good at it or bad at it. Did you get what you wanted out of it?”
“What?”
“In the real world, there are no points for a good attitude. It didn’t matter if I did some grim march out in the desert with a smile on my face, Rory. But I got out of it what I needed. Who gives a shit if you like climbing the rope? Who cares if you did it? Did you want to?”
“No. But we were supposed to.”
“Sure. But what was the consequence for not doing it?”
“I failed PE.”
“And does that have a direct impact on where you are now?” he asked.
She thought about it. She could see where he was going with this. A bad PE grade had nothing to do with where she could or couldn’t get in her life.
But that wasn’t the point.
“It does. Because what I learned was that if it was too hard I didn’t have to try. I could quit. And unfortunately, that was a lesson I internalized. It was bad. On a lot of levels. I became a quitter. And that’s the problem. I let all of that stuff make me a quitter. You’re right. It’s about learning to be about that end goal.”
“Just, trust me on this, Rory, you don’t want it to be a parade. I feel like what you’re headed for is not the destination you want to be at.”
“That’s easy for you to say. People were voluntarily throwing you parades for your entire life.” She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. It isn’t fair of me to say that anything is easy for you.”
“No. You’re right. For a very long time, I had it easy. I was a golden boy. I was everything that everyone could have asked me to be. And I loved it. I got whatever I wanted as a result of it. You are right about that.”
“Maybe I have to have the parade part before I can have the other parts. Before I can have the lesson. I don’t know. Maybe I need this.”
He sighed. “Okay. Rory, I’ll help you. But I’m... I’m going to need your help, too.”
The words, so stark and so very unexpected, made her breath freeze in her lungs. She wanted to help him. She wanted it more than she wanted anything on that list right now and that wasn’t supposed to be how it worked.
“Tomorrow night,” he said.
“Tomorrow?” Her heart jumped. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, or why she’d thought it might not be so soon. She was leaving, after all. She needed to get this show on the road.
It was just she was better at planning, at dreaming, than actually doing.
“Yeah, we’ll go to Smokey’s. You can help me figure out how to be...charming.”
“Maybe you missed part of what my issue is. But some of what’s happening here is that I don’t know how to be charming.”
“You recognize when I’m not being charming.”
“That is true. So what do I do, like evaluate you when you talk to women?”
He looked at her. “You could do that.”
That felt like a swift punch in the stomach, and it shouldn’t. He had notably not offered to kiss her. He was offering to take her out for another man to kiss her.
For some reason, it made her heart feel just slightly dented. Just slightly.
“So I’m...your flirting coach,” she said.
“I didn’t say anything about flirting,” he said.
“Oh. You said you wanted to be charming, so I just assumed.”
“Are you offering to be my wingman, Rory?”
“Well. I could be. I mean, you’re kind of being mine.”
“I haven’t dated for a while. But my ex-wife is getting remarried, so maybe that’s my sign.”
“Oh. I’m sorry I...” She suddenly felt a little bit ashamed. Like she had stepped into territory where she wasn’t invited. Because, of course, he’d been married. And, of course, it hadn’t ended well. Or rather, it had ended , which she knew was counter to what people wanted when it came to marriage.
“Don’t be. I’m not. I’m glad she’s moving on with her life. She should. There was no fixing us, and she wants a husband, so she should have one.” He cleared his throat. “Not sure I’m headed that direction, myself.”
That struck her as being desperately sad. He was too good of a man to be alone forever.
“I could be your friend coach.”
“My friend coach,” he repeated.
“Yes. If you need help making friends.”
“I thought you also had issues with that.”
“I do.” She frowned. “But I have had a friendship with your sister for a whole lot of years. I know what I want in a friend. Either way, the rule applies. I can be your scowl monitor.”
“My scowl monitor.”
“Yes. I can let you know if you’re being too scowly.”
“How? A birdcall?”
“No,” she said, feeling annoyed. “Not with a birdcall. But maybe like that... What do they call it? A safe word.”
“That isn’t what a safe word is for, baby.”
She looked up at him, and for a moment, the world slowed down. His blue eyes were intent on hers.
Baby.
Safe word.
Lord.
She shook her head too vigorously, trying to do something to disrupt the tension that had gripped her by the throat. “No. You know what I mean. I mean a code word.”
“Well, now I like safe word.”
The way his voice skated over that word, rough and deep. She did not know this version of Gideon. Not back then and not now. Of course, he’d never once said anything sexual around her when she was younger, and even though she’d heard that he was amazing in bed, she’d never been able to put too much graphic thought into it then because she’d been too innocent.
She might be untouched, but she knew things.
Enough that just his voice gave her thoughts that were so graphic she wanted to hurl herself off the side of the mountain to get some distance between them.
“Okay, we’ll have a...a safe word for if you get too grumpy.” She was proud of herself for saying that. Rather than flinging herself over the side of a mountain.
“Pick one,” he said.
She felt almost certain he was doing this to her on purpose. “It has to be something that we aren’t saying in regular conversation.”
“Snowy plover,” he said.
“What is it with you and birds?”
He shrugged. “I like birds.”
“What is there to like about birds particularly?” she asked.
“Quite a lot. They’re interesting. They’re smart, very teachable, many of them recognize human faces.”
“That’s scary, that’s not interesting.”
She thought maybe he was messing with her. But she really couldn’t tell. “You know, if you’re joking, you might try smiling.”
His face suddenly went blank. “It’s like I’ve forgotten how to do that mostly.”
She’d been trying to tease him, and she’d stepped on a philosophical landmine. Great.
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “No. It’s your job. You’re helping me.” He grinned. It didn’t reach his eyes. That made her heart feel bruised. Seeing him try like this. “Operation Smile More is happening.”
She nodded. “Then I’m happy to assist with Operation Smile More.”
“Tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night,” she confirmed.
“And think about that safe word.”
She felt her face getting hot again. “I will.”
She grabbed her notebook and turned around, heading back toward her car. And she realized, with no small degree of absurdity, that she had a date with Gideon Payne.