Chapter Twenty-Two
Rowan
“Is everything okay?” I asked Milo in the car. We were approaching Wendigo Hills after a drive that had been growing quieter with every mile.
“Why?”
“You haven’t skipped a song in ten minutes.”
Milo looked ahead and adjusted his seatbelt. “Can we stop by the cemetery?”
“Of course.” I changed lanes and veered toward tall iron gates. “Do you want me to wait in the car, or can I go with you?”
“Would you?”
“Absolutely. If you’re okay with that.” I treaded carefully, unsure of what Milo needed from me.
Anabelle’s birthday was on August third when he’d gone to visit her with Ethel, but I could sense this was about something else.
I looked at my watch. It was August sixteenth. Was the date important too?
Milo sat straighter. “Yes.”
I parked along the street and followed Milo to the tiny store by the entrance, where he bought three candles and a pack of matches.
He walked through the gate, but paused and reached for my hand.
I squeezed his slim fingers in what I hoped was comfort or assurance that I was there for him, at least today, for now, whatever he needed me for.
Neatly trimmed bushes surrounded the area filled with old gravestones in front and more modern ones as we ventured farther in.
Milo stopped by a plot with swirly beige marble which had Anabelle’s name and fresh flowers on the left, and Ethel’s name on the right.
“Hi Auntie, this is Rowan,” Milo said, swinging our linked hands. “He’s here only for the summer, but I wanted you to meet him.” Then he let go and lit one of the candles he’d bought.
His words hit me in the chest. He’d made an emotional impact on my life and until now, I hadn’t realised that I could have done the same to him.
It wasn’t the first time I was considering moving into Wendigo Hills permanently for Milo, but only now, I believed he might want me to stay. Why hadn’t he asked me to?
He shouldn’t have to.
During evenings when Milo would fall asleep before me, I’d go over the options I had for work in a small town.
Employment opportunities were not plentiful or up to my standards.
I had an idea for a business, but I couldn’t do it by myself and it would be financially very risky.
Maybe Troy would have ideas? I’d have to talk to him before giving Milo any semblance of hope I could move to Wendigo Hills.
“Hello,” I said awkwardly, and waved at the grave.
Milo snorted and stood up, having lit a candle on Anabelle’s side. “I don’t believe she can hear me, but talking out loud to her helps me decide what I’d like her to know if she was still here.”
“That makes sense.” I stroked his back gently, and he leaned into my touch, wrapping my arm around his waist.
“I told her about you already. I don’t want to keep you here, so come meet my parents.”
“I don’t mind staying as long as you want.”
Milo took my hand and led me in a swirly path between graves until we stopped by a black and grey marble tombstone for two people whose last name I recognized.
Janine and Thomas Tolbit, died on August sixteenth.
Today was the anniversary of their passing.
Fuck. No wonder Milo had been so melancholy since morning.
“Talking to them is more difficult because I don’t remember them as clearly as Aunt Anabelle.
I never shared the uncomfortable secrets about high school crushes and all teenage first times with them.
” He knelt on the grass and lit the remaining two candles he’d bought.
“I came here for my twenty-first birthday, though with a bottle of whisky. The police found me passed out where I’m now in the middle of the night.
” He brushed a leaf off the marble. “Not my best moment. Aunties were so worried about me.”
I joined him on the ground. “Your parents would be so proud of you.”
Milo elbowed me. “You sound like Ethel.”
“Thanks.”
Milo shook his head and leaned into me. “They were killed by a drunk driver before I turned thirteen.”
He was opening up, and I wanted to scoop him up and hug him. Instead, I kept my cool and listened. “Is this what you don’t like celebrating it?”
“Did Ethel tell you?”
“Only not to make a big deal out of your birthday. But no details.” I scooted closer and wrapped my arms around him, giving him space to pull away.
He didn’t. Instead, he rested his head on my chest and sighed.
“I still remember that day so clearly. It was three days before my thirteenth birthday, twelve years ago. Mom has bought all the ingredients to make the cake. We were supposed to bake it together, all 3 of us the next morning. If not for a drunk driver…” He sniffled and wiped his face with his hand.
“Was the cabin getaway my birthday party in disguise?”
“Not if you don’t want it to be.” I stroked his arm. “We were celebrating your exam results.”
“No, I like it. It was very thoughtful. A bit of happiness before the anniversary of the worst day of my life.”
I pursed my lips. “I didn’t know the last part when I planned it.”
“Because I didn’t tell you. If you’re not aware of the bad things about me, you won’t leave.” He released a humorless laugh. “But you’re going soon, anyway. Which is fine. It’s exactly what we agreed on.”
“Actually, Milo, I—”
“Don’t. I’m just emotional today. You’ll say something you’ll regret because you saw me upset.” He rounded the tomb and traced a hand over the top of the headstone. “I’m ready to go,” he said without looking at me.
The drive to Milo’s house was short and silent. I pulled his suitcase out of the trunk and climbed the steps to the door.
Milo unlocked it but didn’t open it. He turned to me instead, his face on the level of mine with him standing three stairs higher.
“Once you’re back in Chicago, maybe I could visit you sometime?” His tone was even but devoid of its usual cheer.
“That would be great.” I refrained from reaching for him, afraid he’d shrug me off. That would hurt too much.
“Unless you find someone. I mean, we could be friends, of course, but it would be awkward for your future partner.”
Bile rose in my throat. A partner? Other than Milo? “Right, yeah,” I croaked out. I couldn’t give him empty platitudes or promise I’d stay without having a plan. That would be cruel.
“I know you’re leaving in a week, but I want some time to process. I’ll text you, okay?”
I swallowed hard. “Okay, whatever you need.”
Milo cupped my face with his hands and laid a soft kiss on my lips, then disappeared inside his house.
This felt too much like a goodbye.
The crippling pain in my chest forced me to face reality. This couldn’t be the end.
I had to figure something out.
The next day at breakfast, I told Troy that I wanted to analyse all the options for my potential move to Wendigo Hills, with the main one being a crazy idea that involved him.
But first, I had to pull off a stunt that had been cooking up in my head for weeks, and I finally figured out how to tackle it.
Troy listened patiently and asked me to meet him after work at the hotel bar after he’d run all the numbers. I couldn’t risk being hopeful yet. It was tempting, though.
I visited the coffee shop the following morning, and Milo smiled at me, but didn’t come over. The next day he was not in. On the nineteenth of August, his birthday, I dared not bring a gift, but I still wanted to see him. Except he wasn’t at the cafe. Not in the morning, or afternoon.
“Sophia, hi, can I have a moment?” I approached Milo’s friend and the person who may help me.
“Sure. Will you take over?” she said to Lorenzo. The cook was a well-built man with brown, curly hair pulled back in a low ponytail.
“Yup. I got it.” He sized me up and down with a glare and turned to the next customer.
“Milo is not texting me, and it’s the second day he’s not at work.
He asked to give him space but I’m worried.
” The memory of finding antidepressants in Milo’s sock drawer haunted me every day since returning from the cabin.
I imagined the worst, but had no information whatsoever apart from recalling that dickhead Andrew asking Milo if he’d been depressed again.
Sophia crossed her arms and rested her hip against a corner table. “Milo is hurting.”
“You probably know it’s his birthday today, but he doesn’t like celebrating it.”
“He never does. But it’s more than that. This thing between you two is destroying him. He has his—” She shook her head and sighed as if weighing her words carefully. “He gets sad sometimes. He doesn’t want to see me then. Sometimes he’ll let Ethel in. This time, maybe you could try.”
“He said he’d text me first.”
“He’s not a date who gave you a fake number not to contact them.
He trusts you, Rowan. Now go and fix this.
Or end it.” She pursed her lips in an exasperated move and tossed her green hair back over her shoulder.
“But be clear whether you want to break his heart or not. You’ve been stringing him along for weeks now. ”
“I haven’t.”
“I’d say it’s none of my business, but he’s my friend and my boss. Milo is part of my life and I hate seeing him hurt.” She glared at me. “Go.”
I did. Running toward Milo’s place my head filled with scenarios of what I should say or do. I had an idea. It could backfire spectacularly, but it was worth a shot. I stopped by the local grocery store and finally took the steps to Milo’s house with two bags packed to the brim.
I set them down and fished out my phone.
I’m at your door. Tell me to fuck off and I’ll go.
In all honesty, I hadn’t expected the three dots of Milo’s typing to appear instantly.
Use your key.
I let myself in and set the groceries in the kitchen. “Milo?”
“Bedroom,” he yelled back.
His house had been full of adorable clutter before, but now it was a mess of epic proportions by Milo’s standards, with clothes on the floor, unwashed dishes in the sink, and empty packets of chips and mini pretzels on the couch.
I found him face down on his bed, tangled in the sheets, wearing an oversized T-shirt and underwear. The room needed airing, and Milo could use a shower. But those were not priorities. I sat at the very edge of the foot of the bed.
“Is this my Swimming with the Sharks T-shirt?”
He turned to his side and eyed me. “Why did you come?”
I missed you. I need you. I was worried.
If I started too heavy, he might shut down again.
“You were right,” I said.
“About what?”
“Everything about me. I hate my job, and I’m a coward for staying with the company as long as I have.”
He sat up slowly as if he were weak or in pain, and crossed his arms. “You came here to tell me that?”
Gods, if only I could pull him into a hug and bury my face in his hair. “Among other things. I want to be braver, like you. Which means I have to take matters into my own hands more.”
“Like what?” Milo’s eyes were swollen with dark bags under them, as if he hadn’t slept for days.
“Asking you if you’d bake a cake with me.”
Milo frowned. “Can you bake?”
“No. But I found a recipe online and bought the ingredients. Why not give it a shot?”
He grew even sadder. “I see what you’re doing.”
“No idea what you’re talking about.” Alarm bells rang in my head. I fucked up. Fuck. How would I fix this?
He looked ahead at a framed picture on his dresser. “I couldn’t bake my cake with my parents, but I can do it myself now. With you.”
I swallowed hard. “Was it a bad idea?”
“You listened—no, you heard what I said, and you didn’t attempt to throw me a party but organized something that would bring back good memories and make new ones.” He climbed onto my lap and hugged me, resting his heavy head on my pec.
“Is that a yes to the cake?” Tentatively, I stroked his back in circles.
He nodded against my chest. “I’ll clean the house first and shower. I stink. I was feeling a bit better today. Weird, considering it’s my birthday. So I’m ready to roll out of bed.” He got off me but fell onto the duvet and hugged the pillow. “Or not. I lied. I’m staying here for now.”
“We can do whatever you feel like it. Or I can go.”
“Stay.”
“Do you want to listen to music? Watch a movie?” I motioned to the small TV on the dresser.” If he’d fall asleep, he’d get some rest and I’ll clean up a bit. “Or I’ll just hang here while you nap.” Would that help with his nightmares? Had he had any since the cabin?
He fell silent, shifted, then covered his eyes with his forearm. “I have some pills in my sock drawer. I think I wasn’t ready to stop taking them.” He sighed. “Could you bring them to me?”
“Of course.” I fetched them along with a glass of water and returned to my spot on the bed.
“I’m fine, I promise. And this has nothing to do with you.
” He grimaced as if that wasn’t exactly true.
“And I have a video appointment with my therapist.” He took one pill from the box and chased it with water.
“No, that’s all lies. I’m not okay, Rowan.
I haven’t been since my parents died. So please, feel free to go. ”
“Why would I?”
“I’m masking well. My therapist calls it toxic positivity. But it drains me. Today, I have no spoons and no mask to put on, so I’ll just be a miserable goblin.”
I shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal out of something that was his daily struggle. How had I not seen it? “That’s fine by me. Unless you’re kicking me out.”
“I’m not, just…” He lifted one shoulder and let it drop.
“Then I’ll stay.”
“I’m twenty-five today.” Milo took a sip from the glass I’d brought.
“Can I wish you a happy birthday?”
Milo snorted so hard that water spurted out of his nose. “I guess.” He coughed, and tears sprang to his eyes.
“Are you okay?”
He nodded, then shook his head and covered himself with the duvet. A moment later he stuck his head out and sniffed. “We can watch Swamp Thing again.”
It had become a comfort movie to me as well. Without a word, I reached for the remote and put his legs on my lap.
Author’s notes:
Everyone’s depression is different. If this doesn’t look like you or someone you love, it’s okay. If you need to reach out, I added the numbers to places that could help at the beginning of the fic now.