Chapter 10
It had been three days and Lara hadn’t even caught a glimpse of Ty. He hadn’t been at the cottage—at least when she was there. She’d come home from the museum that first day to find the couch back to a couch and all his things gone.
She’d cried herself to sleep again that night.
He didn’t come to the museum. She didn’t catch a glimpse of him walking around town or the beach. He didn’t call or text. She didn’t ask Grandma if she’d seen him, because she knew she’d only earn a disapproving look.
It hurt. It made it feel like there was a perpetual lump in her throat. And even though he wasn’t dead, it reminded her of how she’d felt the first day back at school after a summer of dealing with her family being gone.
She’d come out of the fog of grief and entered into a period of pain that had felt all-encompassing. Because every step living was a step without them and she couldn’t ignore that it’d be that way forever.
Had she chosen that now? A forever without him. He wasn’t dead. She could track him down, but had she irrevocably ruined something important to her?
She had to wipe a few tears from her eyes as she closed up the register in the museum for the night.
She didn’t want to lose Ty forever. She didn’t want to feel that insurmountable grief again.
“But you surmounted that,” she muttered. “You can do it again.”
A door slammed somewhere downstairs. “See? Floyd gets me.”
But ghost support didn’t exactly fill the empty, aching hole in her heart. Particularly as she closed up the museum after another day, knowing she wouldn’t find Ty at her grandmother’s cottage when she got home.
So she dawdled. Instead of taking the straight shot home, she walked out onto the frigid beach. The sun was beginning to set. Maybe she’d try to sketch. She had her book and pencils in her bag. It’d take up some time before she had to go face…everything she’d chosen.
She settled herself onto the rock she liked to sit on. She got out her notebook, her pencils. Set everything up, then looked out at the horizon.
She couldn’t think of anything to sketch. She didn’t want to sketch. She wanted to cry. In a childish move, she tossed the notebook down onto where her bag sat on the sand. Disgusted with it and herself, she pulled up her knees and rested her chin on them, looking angrily out at the horizon.
Eventually, it began to penetrate that the sunset was going to be one of the delicate ones she liked so much. The sunset, in fact, hadn’t taken on that particular shade of pink since…
That first night Ty had been back, when she’d been sitting in this very place, thinking about that color and her mother.
Her mother. She sighed. What would her mother think of her life? What would any of her family think of what she’d done with it?
She pressed her forehead to her knees and for the first time in a long time let herself actually think about it. About them. If they were here, or maybe just if they were watching from wherever souls went, what would they think of her life?
She’d like to think they’d be proud of her for taking on the family tradition. Dad especially would be so proud she worked side-by-side with Grandma. That she wanted to stay in Wild Rose Point forever. That she believed in fanciful things like ghosts and treasured the history of this place.
Mom would be so excited she’d sold paintings. She’d always thought it so amazing what Lara could do. Lara smiled into her knees even as a few tears fell. If they were still here, they’d no doubt have her art hung all over their house.
But what would they think about Ty? They’d always treated him like a member of the family. Now, looking back, she realized that sometimes the quiet conversations she hadn’t understood in the moment had been about what they could do to protect Ty from his father.
But it hadn’t been just about trying to help a young, abused boy.
They’d liked him and been proud of him. They’d gone to some of his local baseball games and made a family day out of it and bought Ty ice cream and given him a ride home when his dad had been pissed off at whatever had happened in the game that wasn’t quite good enough for his standards.
More tears trickled down her cheeks. For that little boy, who had somehow become just the best man she knew.
And she’d lost him.
Because he wanted things to change, and she needed them to stay the same.
When an arm came around her shoulders, her head jerked up. She hadn’t heard anyone walk up, and she looked around the beach to see…no one. Still the weight of what felt like an arm was around her shoulders.
Her breath hitched, her heart beat over time, and the pink in the sunset was delicate and perfect. Mom’s favorite shade.
She thought of the little shove she’d been given in the museum when she’d fallen into Ty. The little touches over the years she’d attributed to this ghost or another, but what if…
“Mom.” Nothing happened. No apparition appeared. No ghostly voice whispered I’m here. And still, she felt the weight of an arm around her. She felt her mother sitting here with her—even if it wasn’t true.
It didn’t matter, because it felt good, hopeful, comforting. So she followed those feelings, leaned into them. “Mom, what should I do?”
There was nothing but the wind, the waves. Then Lara felt something on her cheek. Lara’s heartbeat erratically. She wasn’t imagining it. She felt the pressure on her cheek, to turn her head, to look down the beach, to where a figure walked.
Ty.
“Okay. I guess you’re telling me he’s the answer.” No, not the answer. That wasn’t the right word.
Ty was the joy her grandmother had spoken of. The good that buoyed the bad. He’d always been that for her. But joy felt safer in small doses. When she didn’t grow to depend on it. To expect it.
“I just don’t want to hurt, but I guess I’ve been hurting the past few days anyway, haven’t I?” she whispered into the wind.
She felt another little nudge. And she laughed, couldn’t help it. “Okay, okay. I’ll…” She inhaled deeply and slid off the rock. What was she going to do?
She loved him. That was never the question. The question was how much she was willing to open herself up to more hurt, more loss.
And still he’d cut to the quick back at the museum that night, in a way she hadn’t been able to get out of her head. We’re all going to die someday, Lara. Is it really going to hurt less if you’re just my friend?
She wanted to believe that by keeping him at arm’s length she could mitigate that pain. Control the outcomes.
But losing him would always hurt. Would bring the same grief losing her family had. Grandma had told her to think about losing her someday. Because she would.
Change was coming, no matter how hard she fought it. What if she embraced it instead? Found the good and surmounted the bad.
It was the only choice, after all.
Nerves thrumming, she took the first step toward him. And after the first step, it was easy. It was so easy to rush toward him because…
It was always him. Ty Wagner meant the world to her, and yes, that scared her. Maybe it always would.
But she could be like Grandma. Brave in the face of loss. She could reach out for joy to buoy the grief.
When she reached him, she didn’t stop. She wrapped her arms around him, squeezed even as he stood stock still.
“I love you,” she murmured into his chest.
“I know that, but—” He pulled her back so he was frowning at her, but she didn’t let him finish his but.
“No, Ty. I really love you.” She looked up at him and let it all out.
Without trying to protect herself from how the words hurt.
Without being afraid of the change those words might enact.
“You were right. It’s always been you, and I’ve been scared.
I’ve been a lot of things. But you have always been my favorite person.
You’ve always felt like home. And when you kissed me…
I’ve never felt anything like that before.
Like something was meant to be. Like you were mine to have, no matter what.
It’s why… I thought I should stop it, but I didn’t want to. It was never about wanting to.”
His expression hadn’t changed. There was a wariness in his blue eyes. Like he didn’t quite believe her.
But she needed him to. She needed… She needed him. To be her joy. To be her grief. To hold her hand. To be hers.
“I hate being without you. I hate when you’re not here. I told myself it was better that way because it helped me carry the weight of it, but it was just…a coping mechanism. And not a healthy one.”
He still didn’t seem particularly moved. “So what are you saying?”
She swallowed. Nerves and fear and worry battling it out in her throat. But wouldn’t those things be here even if she tried to be just friends with him again? Worry that she’d lose him. Fear that it could never be the same.
She wouldn’t wait for change to knock her out.
She’d change things for the better. She could sell her paintings and love Ty and build something with joy.
She could. Because even in loss there was pink sunsets and ghost touches and dinners where Ty hugged her because he was proud of her, and times when he did things for her that were really the best thing for him.
“I’m saying that… I want to build something with you, Ty.
I want to love you in all the ways I’ve been afraid to.
I don’t want to be afraid of the good. Because you were right, losing you hurts no matter when, where or how.
It always will, no matter how hard I try to manage it.
I don’t want to manage it.” She grabbed his hands. “I just want you.”
“What made you change your mind?” When she started to gesture back at the museum, he shook his head. “Don’t say ghosts.” But he dropped his forehead to hers, his grip on her hands tightening.
“They didn’t change my mind. They just gave me a few nudges.” She reached up, put her palms to his cheeks. “Grandma did too. And you gave me a few more. I needed them. I’ll probably keep needing them.”
He looked down at her, those blue eyes dark and intense. “I’ll give you however many you need if you keep loving me.”
“I can’t remember when I haven’t loved you, Ty. And I don’t plan on stopping. Ever.” Because love was bigger than time. Than loss. Love buoyed the grief.
So she’d never let it go.
Ty Wagner had felt like a failure most of his life. Even quitting the thing he’d failed at had made him feel like a failure.
But a few months back home in Wild Rose Point had changed everything for him.
He guided Lara up the driveway. She was wearing her sleep mask so she couldn’t see—not that she hadn’t put up a fight about that. But he’d wanted to surprise her. The fact he’d gotten this far without her catching on was a feat.
Once he had her standing where he wanted her, he pulled the mask off. “Okay, open your eyes.”
Dutifully, Lara did as he said and opened her eyes. She looked around, then back at him. “The old Lawson cottage?”
“The new Wagner cottage,” he corrected, holding out his keys.
She blinked once, then looked back at the cottage. “You bought it?” She didn’t sound anything but surprised. Which meant he’d certainly succeeded.
He nodded. “Come on.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her up to the door. Maybe he was a little nervous, but that was okay. He unlocked the door and led her into the front room. The layout was a lot like her grandmother’s place, which he liked. The familiarity. The Wild Rose Point of it all.
There was no furniture in this room yet, but above the fireplace mantle he’d hung her painting of the beach, with one of her ghosts standing on the rock. The one even he saw sometimes.
It made him smile every time he looked at it.
He could tell he’d shocked her, which had been the whole point. It was hard to keep a secret in a place like Wild Rose Point, but he’d done it.
“Ty…” She took a few steps toward the painting. “I can’t believe you’re the one who bought Jack.”
“Hey, I have some ghost interference to thank for everything, right?” He came up behind her, rested his arms over her shoulders, both of them looking up at the painting.
“And look…” He led her over to the sliding glass door that led out to their own deck.
It wasn’t direct beach access, but if he moved her to just the right spot on the deck, she could see the rock she’d painted that night.
He had looked out at a few times over the course of trying to buy this place. And he’d never once seen the figure out there.
But today he did. With Laura, he did.
She smiled and leaned into him. For a few moments, they were quiet like that. A moment of basking in just…being happy, feeling the cool breeze and listening for the faint sounds of the ocean waves. Life wouldn’t always be this good, so they were trying to be in the moment while it was.
“It’s mine, and whenever you’re ready to move in, it’ll be ours,” he told her softly. “And if somewhere down the line we want to sell it and pick out something together, we’ll do that.”
She looked up at him, nothing but understanding in her eyes. “But you needed to do something for you.”
“Yeah, I did.” He was glad she could understand that. That they could understand each other. And work through things when they didn’t understand at all. Life hadn’t changed so much as opened up.
She turned to him, wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love it. And I love you.” Then she pressed her mouth to his. Because this was who they were. Friends, always, and two people in love.
Always.
He pulled back a little, arms around her waist. Bowled over that he’d finally ended up here, right where he’d always belonged. “You know, the one piece of furniture I do have is a bed.”
She grinned at him. “Well, you should probably show me that.”
He swept her up into his arms, and she laughed. The sound of joy. And love.
What they’d both chosen. And would keep choosing.
Forever.