Chapter 58
FIFTY-EIGHT
CALLUM
E ven after all this time, even now as a grief-stricken shell of the vibrant girl I once knew, she still takes my breath away.
Seeing her sitting on the bench, holding hands with my sister in a chapel filled with former classmates and teammates here to pay their respects, hits me like a ton of bricks.
Grief and anger fight for a place of dominance in my mind.
I still don’t understand what happened, why she left, why she cut me out of her life altogether.
But this isn’t the time or the place to confront her about it.
Right now, she’s hurting and alone, and more than anything, she’s going to need the support of the people in her life who love her the most, the ones who have been there for her. She’s going to need me .
Shoving aside the confusion and frustration and need pulsing through my veins, I wait patiently through the memorial service and burial.
I let Lena take the lead, offering words of comfort, lending her strength, and watch from the sidelines as my dad once again puts on a show with his ‘concern’.
I bide my time as she mechanically accepts the well-wishes of people who never really cared about her, and have to restrain myself from following her upstairs when she retreats into the sanctuary of her old bedroom, with my sister and dad following close behind.
The old grandfather clock in the hall slowly ticks away the minutes.
Everyone else left a while ago, and I know that if Sutton knew I was here, she would tell me to go too, but I can’t bring myself to leave.
Instead, I pace restlessly, wearing down the already threadbare rug in a futile attempt to try and release this building frustration.
An agonized wail sounds up the stairs, followed by a soft murmur – words I can’t make out.
Lena. With a resolve I didn’t know I possessed, I lock down my muscles, fighting every instinct to run up those stairs and burst into her room, the room that I used to steal glances into from my own just yards away.
A sharp, pinching sensation pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts, and I glance down in surprise.
Unballing my clenched fists, the small white indents from where my fingers had dug into the skin give away the pain eating away at me from the inside out.
Get your shit together, Robinsky. This isn’t about you.
It’s about her. What she needs, and that’s not you right now.
Forcing your way in before she’s ready is only gonna make her hate you more.
Focus. Breathe. Get your fucking shit together.
Forcing a calm I don’t feel, I breathe deeply before taking a seat in the corner and wait.
It should be me holding her while she cries; me whispering soothing words into her hair.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Lena, and I’m glad that Sutton has her since she won’t let me into her life lately.
But that doesn't mean this isn’t killing me inside.
Lena is her best friend from childhood, sure, but Shorty and I, we built something together that was different from her friendship with my sister.
Something more. And whatever the fuck’s been going on with her recently can’t take that away.
There’s too much history between us. She’s a part of me, interwoven into my soul like strands of DNA.
I couldn’t remove her without ruining myself in the process.
Getting her back, fixing whatever this is that’s broken between us isn’t just a want, it’s more than a need .
. . It's practically self-preservation at this point; I don’t know if I can survive a future without her in it.
Continuing to live without her. . . even just the thought of it, well, it’s abhorrent.
And after finding out that Coach Farley.
. . her parents , were killed in that car crash last week.
. . god , I didn’t hesitate to drop everything and come home.
Whether or not she wants me here, I was going to be close by because she needs me, and I love her.
Sutton is my past. She’s my family. And if this black hole of a year and a half without her in my life has taught me anything, it’s that I know for damn sure she’s going to be my future.
Come hell or high water, I’m going to get my girl back.
Even if right now isn’t the moment for that conversation; I can wait.
There’ll be time for us to figure out our shit once she’s had a chance to catch her breath, to process everything that’s happened, to grieve.
But still. . . even biding my time, I couldn’t not be here for her in the worst moments of her life.
Even if she won’t acknowledge my presence. So for now, I’ll keep waiting.
Eventually, I hear more murmuring before footsteps sound on the stairs; I watch silently as Dad comes down, with Lena following closely behind.
I’m sure they’ve assumed I left long ago, dispersing with the rest of the crowd.
They don’t look around the otherwise empty room as they head out the front door.
They don’t notice as I sit silently, forgotten, in the dark corner of the living room. . . but still I wait.
It’s getting late, but I won’t leave her alone in this empty house.
Not when the love and warmth that once filled it has been replaced with an eerie stillness.
And then she passes like a shadow, moving in a daze as she exits, and I know exactly where she’s headed.
I give her space, honestly impressed with myself for allowing her a full minute’s head start, and then I follow her to our meadow.
Whether it’s from resignation or acceptance, Sutton doesn’t try to stop me as I walk over to sit beside her in the damp grass.
I wonder, does she still feel my presence as tangibly as she once had, even after all this time?
Does she know that despite our estrangement I would never leave her to process this grief alone?
Either way, I’m filled with a sense of rightness as I plop down to sit beside her in the damp grass.
It’s quiet out here, but not in the way the silence now fills her childhood home.
We sit unspeaking, breathing in the damp air left over from the earlier rain - unmoving until my tailbone aches and my ass is soaked from the damp earth; until the crickets finally begin their nightly tune.
I refuse to be the one to break this spell that she’s under though, so doing my best to ignore the discomfort, I stare silently into the darkness where the familiar line of trees breaks apart the grassy edge of the meadow.
And then, it happens. A sniffle . My jaw aches from clenching so tightly, but I force myself to remain still, to allow her to feel whatever it is she needs to feel without interference from me.
And then, from the corner of my eye, I swear I can just make out the tremble of those beautiful lips in the darkness.
A whimper breaks into a shudder, as if she’s fighting back the urge to cry, and from there it doesn’t take long.
She can’t hold it in, the pain desperate to break free from its tether.
One heavy sob is all it takes before I give in, crossing the short distance separating us and pulling her tightly against my chest.
“Shhh. It’s okay, Shorty. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay. Just let it go.”
Her shudders wrack through my body as if they were my own, her tears soaking through the layers of my best tailored suit.
It’s probably ruined, and I know the lady I’d hired as a personal shopper will have a heart attack when she sees the aftermath, but fuck it.
I’d want to burn the damn thing anyway after this week from hell.
I don’t need the visual reminder of what she’s lost. Of what we’ve both lost. It’s going in the trash as soon as I get home.
“C-c-a-l.” One broken word, and she’s in my lap, my desperation to bring her closer, hold her more tightly almost threatening to drown me.
“Shhh. Sweetheart, I know. I know.” My own voice cracks, tears running down my face and into her hair as I kiss the top of her head.
My every instinct is to comfort her, to make this pain just go away and protect her from the hurt as I tried to when we were kids.
But how can I when the pain is grief-soaked memories?
When there isn’t a bully to punch, or a single ass to kick - just an empty home, and a hole in her heart that used to be filled by the two most important people in her life.
It’s like trying to fight a ghost; completely unreachable.
I want to tell her it’s going to be okay, but that would be a lie.
And for all the shit that I’ve done over the years, all the pain that I’ve caused, I’ve never lied to her.
Not once . No, unfortunately this is a hurt that I can’t protect her from, and my chest tightens at the thought; my grief intertwined with her own.
“I’ve got you. I’m right here. You’re not alone.
I’m not going anywhere.” I kiss her head again, whispering the words over and over until my own voice breaks and she finally, finally gives in to overwhelming, grief-filled exhaustion.
She cries herself to sleep in my arms, and I continue to hold her, rocking her in my arms, whispering words that she can’t hear.
. .never wanting to let go. I won’t let her go this time.
She disappeared from my life once, has tried running from me in the past more times than I can count, but she’s back now, and when the moment is right, we will have a talk to work through whatever this thing is between us.
But that can wait. I’m not going anywhere.
The crickets grow louder as the wind begins to pick up, moving more rain clouds in our direction.
I’ve held her through the evening and late into the night.
I would keep holding her, right here in our meadow, in my arms, all damn night if I could but the last thing she needs is to get caught in the rain and risk getting sick.
My back is stiff from sitting on the hard ground, and I have to bite back a groan as an unpleasant tingling feeling shoots down my legs from lack of use.It takes several minutes of awkward shifting, but eventually I’m able to stand without setting her down.
Biting back a groan, I’m careful not to wake her as I readjust so that she’s resting in my arms more comfortably before I begin the short trek up the trail back to our childhood homes.
After a brief moment of fumbling around, I manage to get her front door open and carry her up the stairs.
A bittersweet nostalgia hits me as I step into her dark room, the wooden floorboards creaking under my weight as I walk closer to the bed.
A starlit path made up of old plastic constellations on the slanted popcorn ceiling provides the only light as it illuminates vague shapes of various pieces of furniture.
It feels weird being in here; memories of other nights flood through me as I lay her gently on the bed.
Pulling a blanket up over her, I tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and hesitate.
I should go. I know I should leave and come back later.
There will be time to talk tomorrow. For now she needs her rest; but one look at her, with her red-rimmed eyes and exhaustion lining every aspect of her face despite her peaceful slumber, and I can’t just leave. I promised I wouldn’t leave her.
Kicking off my shoes, I line them up next to hers where I’d set them at the foot of the bed, and lie down before pulling her once more into my arms. With a soft kiss to the back of her head and a protective arm draped over her middle, I inhale her sweet scent – jasmine and honeysuckle , thanking god that some things never change – and close my eyes.
I wake to the dim sunshine streaming through the curtains, my brain slowly acclimating, taking longer than it should to realize where I am as I absorb in the familiar sights of Sutton’s childhood room.
Biting back a groan, I stretch out my arm, expecting to find her lying next to me but instead, I come up empty.
Shifting onto one elbow, I look around the room, my brain still hazy as it tries to wake up, confused, and as my eyes refocus on the empty sheets. . . there’s only a note.
“I’m sorry, I just I can’t do this. Thank you for last night.
– S.”
Well, fuck me.