31
‘Flynn,’ I call into the emptiness. The sky is pitch-black and starless, but the Corner Bar window behind me, and the twinkling festival lights, cast a hazy yellow glow through the softening rain.
I pull up my hood and cross the deserted main road, straining to catch a glimpse of Flynn on the way down to Hazel Cottage.
But all I see is darkness, along the road, and around the cottage.
He hasn’t even switched on the single outside light.
‘Flynn,’ I call again, as I trudge the grassy verge, feeling my way.
And again, there’s no answer and I wonder if I should leave him alone.
Those words that he heard were so much harsher than anything I would have chosen to say to him.
It was myself I was trying to convince. But I can’t take them back.
He was right when he said that I need to toughen up.
And I have. I managed two years in London, and I learned I was far lonelier in a relationship that was wrong for me than I ever could be on my own. I wasn’t pretending when I told Scott and Sarah I’d be fine. I meant it. I will be.
I’m almost at Hazel Cottage and I stop to take a breath and try to decide.
I picture Flynn’s face as he stood in the Corner Bar doorway, the hurt in his eyes, clear proof of how much he still cares.
But if I follow him now, if I knock on his door, I’ll be asking him to choose again.
Between his future with Natalie and his friendship with me.
I dig my heel deep into the mucky grass, say a silent prayer to the universe for strength, and turn back towards the road and away from the cottage, and Flynn and me.
‘So that’s it, then?’ I hear his voice on the bitter night breeze. He sounds bone-tired and raw. ‘You don’t even care enough to talk any more?’
A dim light reaches into the darkness and I turn, walk the few steps to the gate, then I stop. Flynn’s arm is stretched out towards me, the torch on his phone lighting my way.
‘My phone died,’ I say, as if this explains anything.
He lowers his hand to his side until I can barely make out his face, the only light fading down to the gravel pathway between us. ‘Okay,’ he says, almost in a whisper. ‘I wondered if you were choosing silence as your answer. Again.’
I reel back. Again? What’s that supposed to mean?
‘That’s not fair,’ I cry out. But I sound like a petulant child, so I breathe deep, try to calm my racing pulse. ‘I wrote to you,’ I say, slow and steady now. ‘I’m here.’
‘Because I called you back.’ I hear the hurt in his voice. ‘But why is it always up to me, Gracie? Why do I always have to be the one who puts my heart on the line?’
That’s crazy. Flynn has never put his heart on the line. At least, not for me. And I’ve never asked him to. He reaches inside the half-open door and switches on the outside light. And I blink against the glare, then I straighten my shoulders and tip up my chin.
‘You don’t, Flynn. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’m letting you go.’
He sags against the doorframe. ‘So, our promise meant nothing.’ His mouth twists as he repeats what he said in the Corner Bar. ‘You just decide all of a sudden that you don’t need me any more, not even as your friend.’
I lean my hands on the low wooden gate and summon all my strength. ‘That was ten years ago, Flynn.’ I look up and face him again. ‘Best friends. Always. I should never have asked that of you. I don’t need you to keep that promise. It’s holding you back. It’s holding us both back.’
‘You don’t mean that, Gracie. You’re just scared.’ He takes a step forward and his face softens. ‘And you don’t need to be. I’m here, if you want me.’
I grip the top of the gate and shake my head firmly. ‘No, I’m not. I’m not scared. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t need you to stay. I don’t want to get in the way of you having a real relationship. I messed that up for you before and I won’t let that happen again.’
‘A real relationship?’ Flynn steps back and stares at me, like he’s seeing me for the first time, and he can hardly bear to take me in. ‘Like you and Jamie, you mean. Fuck. I really thought this time you’d ask me to stay.’
He drags his hand through his hair again, tugging harder than ever now.
‘It’s not your fault. You told me straight in your letter.
I should have believed you when you said that I was, what .
. . some unresolved issue you needed to get out of your system.
’ His words scrape through my raw, shredded heart.
He holds my gaze and goes on, ‘I should have believed you the first time when you gave me that pen. What was it you said?’ His eyes drop to the pathway between us, then he whispers, ‘Write to me sometime . . . Yeah, thanks.’
He pushes the door with his foot and turns to go inside, then he stops, spins around, and pins me with those sad, beautiful eyes.
‘I understand if you don’t want me to stay.
’ He clenches his jaw tight. ‘But, please, don’t let anyone else tell you what you need.
Wait for the love you deserve, Gracie. That’s all I want for you. That’s all I ask.’
He pulls the door shut behind him, and I stand and stare at the space where he stood. I’m cold and I’m shaking. I’m hurt and confused. And inside I’m howling, I would have waited forever if you wanted me. But you’re the one who left.
How can he say that I left it up to him?
That I’m the one who should ask him to stay.
And why is he still talking about Jamie?
You’re the one who matters, Flynn. I’m trying to do what’s right for you.
I’m trying to be your friend. The words burn in my chest, and claw their way up my throat, but they barely fall out as a whisper.
And I’m sorry if I hurt you. But you’re the one who left, Flynn. You’re the one who left.
I stop at the junction of the Corner Bar and the narrow road that leads to Mam’s house, and I see Scott walking towards me carrying a clear plastic box.
‘Gracie? Is that you?’
I pull down my hood and lift my hand in a half-hearted wave.
‘Sorry,’ he says as he reaches me. ‘Of course it’s you.’ Who else wears a bright yellow rain jacket is what he means, but he doesn’t say that. He smiles kindly and adds, ‘Did you catch Flynn?’
I nod but I don’t elaborate, and Scott tilts his head. ‘You’ll work it out.’
I shrug. I know he means well but I don’t want to talk any more. I only want to get home and crawl under my cosy patchwork quilt, the one Mam and I made together the year after Dad died, the one Flynn and I used to curl up under all the time.
Mam’s gone to Dublin to pick Cal up from the airport, and they’re staying in the city overnight, so the house will be empty, and that’s exactly what I need.
Time to process all these thoughts and feelings battering my head and my heart like the cruellest October storm.
But Scott stands beneath the streetlight, waiting for more.
I can’t tell him to get lost and leave me alone, but I can give him a subtle hint.
I pull up my hood to make it clear I’m not going back inside.
‘Those are Jamie’s, I suppose. Shouldn’t you go on in and give them back to him?
’ I point at the small plastic box, filled with what looks like old photos and scraps of newspaper, and at the top of the pile, an envelope that looks like it might once have been white, but is now wrinkled and yellowing and curled at the corners, faded and unloved, like it’s been buried under old junk for way too many years.
‘You’re not coming in?’ He does the head tilt again, and I shake my head slowly.
‘No. I’m not.’
‘Okay, mind yourself, we’ll see you tomorrow evening.
’ He goes to turn for the door but then he steps back and says, ‘Hey, I almost forgot. I found this in with Jamie’s old clippings.
’ He plucks the worn envelope from the box and hands it to me.
‘It has your name on it, so I didn’t open it.
Probably some old photos from back in the day. ’
‘Oh,’ I say, and I take it from his outstretched hand. It doesn’t look familiar. I’m about to turn it over and check for my name when the main door opens and Jamie steps out.
‘There you are. I was going to send out a search party.’ He scowls at Scott. ‘I hope you’ve calmed down, cuz. You were bang out of order taking that loser’s side.’
Scott grits his teeth and drops the plastic box on the ground in front of Jamie. ‘These are yours. Now take them and go home. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’
Jamie rolls his eyes and goes to reach for the box, but he jerks up again and his eyes light on me, still clutching the worn yellow envelope to my chest.
‘What the fuck?’ He gapes at me. ‘Where did you get that? I threw that away years ago.’
He reaches to snatch it from my hand, but Scott grabs his arm.
There was a time he could have shaken Scott off easily, but Jamie spent most of the last two years behind a desk, or out in fancy bars drinking cocktails, and as far as I know the only exercise he got was screwing Olivia, whereas Scott works out every day, and he’s captain of the senior team now, so he’s gotten a lot more used to taking charge.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Scott plants himself between Jamie and me, and I take another step back.
‘That letter. That’s mine.’
‘It has Gracie’s name on it.’
Jamie’s face twists. ‘I wrote it years ago. I don’t want her to have it any more. I thought I threw it out.’ He leans to the side, trying to see me over Scott’s shoulder. ‘Give it back, Gracie, please. It won’t do any good reading it now. It’s over and done.’
I shake my head in disbelief. ‘There’s no way you ever wrote me a letter. You never even wrote me a note.’ I lift the envelope, turn it over, and stare at the faded blue lettering:
Gracie.
‘This isn’t your handwriting.’ I look up at Jamie, and then back down at my name, and I can barely breathe. I know that hand as if it were my own. I sink back and lean against the window ledge because I don’t think my legs will hold me up. ‘It’s Flynn’s.’
Jamie edges around Scott but he keeps his distance as he presses his hands to the side of his head and groans. ‘I’m sorry, Gracie, but you have to understand, I was crazy about you.’ He leans forward but Scott stretches out his arm, shakes his head as a warning, and Jamie straightens again.
‘I could have had any girl in the school, you know.’ His face pinches. ‘But you wouldn’t look at anyone else when he was around. And he’s a loser. He’s not good enough for you.’ He blows out a harsh breath. ‘But you just couldn’t let him go.’ His voice goes flat. ‘You still can’t. Can you?’
‘That’s enough.’ Scott lays a warning hand on Jamie’s arm. ‘Go home. Now.’
Jamie grabs the box from the ground, then he turns back around and his eyes sear into mine. ‘You know he doesn’t love you, Gracie.’ The words tear through my heart like a blade. ‘He would have come back for you if he did.’
I don’t even see Jamie leave. I stare at the ground, and I feel like I’m staring into a deep, black hole and the darkness feels almost welcome. Then Scott’s arm is at my back, and I hear Sarah’s voice, ‘C’mon, honey, let’s get you home.’