Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Poppy
Wait … what? Had they broken up? Were they done?
Poppy stared at Thom’s back, blindsided and horribly confused. So much had happened this morning; their little argument about ghosts, him asking her about Benji—then that douche actually rocking up—and Benji outing her about his cheating. Her explanation, his reaction to her moving out…
Break-up.
Poppy pushed her hands into her hair and tugged. All she’d asked for was space to grow. She’d expected to have to persuade him or have a discussion, possibly even an argument. Instead, he’d drawn a line in the sand.
A simple, I can’t do that.
It wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want to lose him; she just wanted the opportunity to become someone strong enough, worthy enough, to stand by his side.
Thom continued to walk away and Poppy realized he wasn’t turning back, wasn’t returning for round two. She started to run to him, stopped, bent over, and closed her eyes. He hadn’t listened to her before; why would he now? Maybe it would be better if she allowed him some time to calm down.
She wasn’t good at confrontation: she got tongue-tied, and her words came out wrong, often making things worse. The more she loved a person—and she loved Thom more than anyone, she always had—the worse she was at getting her point across. Especially when he was rattled and upset.
But she couldn’t let him walk away without trying.
“Thom!” she yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth. He braked, linked his hands behind his head, and Poppy waited, expecting him to turn around. When he did, she’d run to him, hug him, apologize, explain. They’d be okay. They had to be okay. She couldn’t lose him again.
Once was more than enough.
But Thom straightened, dropped his arms, and jogged over to the porch. Taking the steps in two strides, he disappeared into the house, and her last little bit of hope evaporated. He wasn’t going to come back to her, wasn’t prepared talk to her, or to try sort this out.
Hello, rejection, my old friend. Poppy dropped to her haunches and stretched out her arms, dropping her head between them. Why won’t he fight for me? Why won’t he budge? Try to accommodate me?
She was trying to do the right thing, trying to be better, trying not to repeat past mistakes. Trying to find herself. Wasn’t that a good thing? But instead of supporting her, it felt like she’d disappointed him for wanting to strike out on her own.
It was the last she thing expected, especially from him, and it made her want to doubt herself.
Poppy stood up and slowly straightened her spine.
She had to stop with the second-guessing.
That’s what she always did, she swayed with the wind.
Part of the reason she wanted to move out was to find her voice, what was right and wrong for her.
What made sense to her. To stop looking at the world through other people’s lenses.
She’d been made to feel small by her family, had only been accepted when she danced to their tune.
She’d bought into that false narrative and nearly married a fuckwit.
She was allowed—she had to be allowed—to find herself, to stand on her own two feet, to work out how to love herself.
Because until she did, she couldn’t love Thom the way he deserved to be loved.
Poppy stared at the front door, her heart falling in on itself.
He expected her to leave, yet she hadn’t had a chance to explain her feelings, what she wanted to do, to make it crystal clear that she never intended to walk away from him.
He thought she wanted to leave him, when all she wanted to do was leave herself, her old self, behind.
She knew that moving out was essential to her growth and independence, but she also accepted that, by doing so, she’d broken what they had. Destroyed the potential of what they could be.
It had never been her intention, but she’d still managed to do it.
Wiping away her tears with the ball of her hands, she hauled in some air, told herself she couldn’t fall apart, not just yet.
She had to wait until she got to Wren’s or Luna’s before she allowed herself to dissolve, to buckle under the assault of heartbreak.
Because she still had to leave Solstice Deep. She had to prove, if only to herself, that she could stand on her own, be on her own, accept and love herself for what she was and what she could be.
Because even if there was a sliver of a chance of them being together in the future, she needed to be better. Stronger. She deserved it; he deserved it; their future deserved it.
Ruby
“She’s amazing,” Ruby whispered as Poppy picked up her suitcase and carried it down the stairs to the hallway.
Lila and Naomi stood next to her as she slowly made her way down the stairs. “Where is she going to go?” Naomi asked, looking worried. “Wren’s house is too small, and Luna still has guests.”
Ruby stared at Poppy’s small back. She was impressed by her fortitude, her quest to be more than she was taught, and that she was standing on her own two feet, choosing herself. But she also felt overwhelming sadness. What was that about?
“I heard her on the phone. She’s going to stay with Hayes and Hadley for a week or ten days, just until after Halloween. After Halloween, the town empties and rentals become available and she’ll pick one up then.”
“Hayes and Thom are best friends,” Lila said, worried.
“Hayes and Poppy are very close, too,” Naomi pointed out. That was the problem when you slept with people in your friend group; it all became complicated when relationships fell apart.
The trio glided down the hallway after Poppy, and when the hallway door opened, they sucked in a quick breath.
Thom stood in the doorway to his study, his hair a mess and his expression remote.
She could see, hell, she could feel the pain rolling off him, sensed how much he was holding back. This was killing him…
It was killing Poppy, too.
Ugh, love. More hassle than it was worth.
“Can I drive you somewhere?” Thom asked, nodding at her suitcase.
Poppy lifted her head, and Ruby knew how much courage it took to meet his eyes. “Hayes is on his way.”
Thom nodded.
“I’ll be back to pick up my stuff sometime.”
“I’m leaving tomorrow, I need to see my client in Washington.”
Ruby caught Naomi’s eye and they both winced at the stilted conversation.
In less than twelve hours, Thom and Poppy had gone from making love, laughing, and talking, to her leaving his life.
Poppy nodded and walked over to the closed front door and yanked it open.
This was it: she was walking out of his life for good.
As she was about to step outside, Thom shifted on his feet. “Don’t stop now,” Ruby whispered, shooing Poppy with her hands. “He’s great, but you need to do this, Poppy.”
“Are you the same person who tried to set them on fire?” Lila asked her.
“I nudged the lantern!” Ruby protested, knowing she’d never live her impetuosity down.
“Shh,” Naomi said, rushing down the staircase into the hall. “I want to hear this.”
Ruby and Lila followed her down, hovering in the space between Poppy and Thom, their eyes switching from one to the other.
What was Poppy going to say? Was she going to beg Thom to take her back?
It was embarrassing to admit that the Ruby she’d been would most likely be lying on the hallway floor right now, begging her lover for forgiveness, telling him she’d made a mistake, that he was all that mattered, would ever matter.
No, that wasn’t accurate. The thought of leaving a man, being without him, and considering she was worth more that the crap she routinely received would never have occurred to her.
Poppy pulled her tote bag over her shoulder and pushed her hand into her hair, pulling the heavy mass back from her face. “When you are alone tonight, when you are replaying today, I want you to remember that none of this was my choice.”
“You’re the one leaving,” Thom pointed out.
Poppy closed her eyes as if looking for patience. “I am leaving Solstice Deep. I never once said I was leaving you. You’ve just chosen to believe that.
“I’m trying to work out who I was trying to be, and who I actually am. How you and this place, my parents and Solstice Deep have shaped me. My running from my wedding was never about Benji cheating—and by the way, I’m very sorry I never spoke to you, or Wren, about that.”
She sighed. “Anyway, my coming here was, initially, because I needed to feel safe. But then I stopped wanting to feel safe and protected, and started to realize that I didn’t need to twist myself into a pretzel to be who my parents expected me to be.
That I don’t need to be anyone but myself to be worthy of love.
” She lifted her chin and met Thom’s eyes.
“I’m not going to apologize for choosing myself, Thom. It’s about time I did.”
Thom started to speak, shook his head, and closed his mouth. He had a stubborn look in his eyes, and Ruby winced. Poppy wasn’t making great strides here. Or any at all.
“And I can’t help thinking,” Poppy said, “that a part of you is, if not happy that this happened, then a little relieved. Because now you can stop looking for it, stop wondering when I am going to disappoint you. Because everybody does, right? That’s what you’ve come to expect.”
Ruby looked at Thom’s hardened expression and caught the flash of emotion in his eyes, something that suggested Poppy was onto something. She waited for him to reply, to say something, anything, but Thom just kept his eyes on Poppy’s face, either unable to respond or refusing to do so.
Poppy stepped back to him and drilled a finger into his chest, her tiny frame vibrating with fury. “You’re the one who always says that choices have consequences, well, me leaving like this, you refusing to talk to me or engage, to work it out, is your choice.”
Ruby and her friends, watched as Poppy turned and walked out of the front door.
She expected Thom to run after her, to say something, anything—how could he not after that impassioned speech?
—but Thom just stayed where he was, leaning into the doorframe, his arms crossed, a deep frown pulling his eyebrows together.
And he stayed there long after Poppy had driven away with Hayes.
Thom
Alone in his house that night, Thom paced his empty kitchen, feeling, for the first time, that he had eyes on him. Poppy was convinced his house was haunted, and Thom had always dismissed the idea, but tonight he felt that she could be right.
He definitely wasn’t alone. He wasn’t scared, but he did feel judged. Or maybe that was because he was second-guessing everything he’d done and said today.
He was, dammit and fuck, a mess.
Thom picked up the whiskey bottle and dumped two fingers into a plastic tumbler, mentally wincing at the amount he’d already thrown down his throat. He had an early morning flight from Boston, a lunch meeting in DC with his new client, and he was going to have to perform with a splitting headache.
Oh, well.
After throwing back the shot, he gripped the back of a dining chair and stared at the slate floor beneath his boots.
As Poppy had predicted, he was replaying the day in his head.
He’d trained as a lawyer, and because thinking strategically was what he did, he started pulling facts in, rearranging them, trying to make the data make sense.
He was a little drunk, but he could still think…
She said she needed space and independence; she’d called him a safety net, or something like that.
That meant that she could take or leave him, and he refused to be the one standing around waiting.
He’d acted in this movie before, and remembered Benji’s smug face as Ingrid pulled her shirt back on, her smirk as she told him not to make a big deal of catching her in a half-naked clinch with his brother.
To forgive—no. She never asked for forgiveness; she’d just suggested he treat it as a drunken mistake.
After he’d punched Benji and ended it with her, he promised himself he’d never beg, wait, or be the fallback, safe option. He was keeping that promise.
You chose to end us…
Her clear and concise words—bounced around his skull.
His rising tide of doubt about her motives, what she said and what she meant, infuriated him, mixing with the whiskey to create a sour taste on the back of his tongue. Was he having second thoughts or was he looking for an excuse to be with her, to roll back everything that happened today?
Thom linked his hands behind his neck and tipped his head back to look at the ceiling. He was doubting himself, but more than that, he was doubting her…
And he was so fucking tired.
He threw back another shot, winced at the burn. This was why he avoided relationships, because this shit, this backwards and forwards and self-doubt and miscommunication, the things they said and the things they didn’t say, made his head spin, then pound, then spin again.
You’re just choosing to believe that.
That sentence, pushing through the ache in his head and heart, burrowed in and down.
Did he make the right decision? He’d never felt this awkward or uncertain about anything ever, like he had ants in his damned pants.
Had he done the right thing? He genuinely didn’t know, and he loathed second-guessing himself.
He was tired, pissed off and drunk. Thank God he’d dropped off Fel with Edie earlier, long before he got stuck into the whiskey.
Tommorow, he’d go to Washington, concentrate on work, clear his head.
When he had a little distance from Poppy, physically and emotionally, he’d analyze the situation again.
Tonight, he’d drink, then sleep. Or drink until he passed out. Same thing really.
The house was too quiet, and he hadn’t heard the clattering Poppy claimed was spectral footsteps, a way for the ghosts to make their presence known.
He hadn’t even heard the house’s normal creaks and groans, sounds that provided the backing track to his life in Solstice Deep.
It felt like the ghosts and the house, the goddamn air and atmosphere were all pissed at him for letting Poppy go.
“You didn’t let her go, you pushed her away,” someone whispered. Was it Poppy’s voice in his head? Wren’s? The female ghost Poppy was certain was haunting his house? Did it matter?
A door slammed upstairs, then another, and another. Yeah, yeah. He got it, nobody was happy with him right now.
“Fucking bite me,” he muttered, reaching of the whiskey bottle again. Until he sobered up, they could do whatever the hell they wanted in his house.
“We do anyway, jackass,” he thought he heard—he must be drunker than he thought.
“Lila…”
Yep, he was definitely drunk.