Chapter 21
“I really appreciate all of your help this morning,” Jack lifts his ball cap off his head, then runs his fingers through his dark curls before resettling the cap back in its place. “I would’ve had to close up the store if you hadn’t watched the place for me.”
I smile. “It wasn’t any problem at all. Is everything okay with Shelby and Anna Leigh?”
“Oh, everything is hunky-dory now. Their toilet was overflowing like the banks of the Ocoee after that storm, but I was able to get everything fixed right up.”
That’s some imagery I could have done without. “Well, I’m glad you were able to lend a hand. They’re lucky to have such a helpful neighbor like you.”
Jack shrugs. “Shelby’s my sister, and Tom—that’s her husband—is my best friend. He’s up in Alaska right now, working on a seasonal fishing boat. It’s a tough situation, but the money is good.”
“I’m sure it’s a relief to both of them to know that you’re close by.”
“Even if I wasn’t, Shelby has the support of the community. Turkey Grove is tight-knit. We take care of one another here.” He eyes me, a gleam entering his gaze. “You know, there might be something else you could help me out with.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask warily, not quite sure I care for that particular look on his face.
“We have a town small business meeting coming up here shortly and would really love it if Levi joined us. Think you could do a little persuading on that front?”
My cheeks heat to think of the display I must have made of myself for Jack to have picked up on my feelings for Levi.
The slight warmth turns to a scolding burn in an instant as I remember the letter I’d left him to find in the laundry room when he went to feed the kittens.
Whatever sway or connection I might have held, I’ve severed it with that letter.
Has Levi seen it yet? Read it?
Maybe I should’ve told him my history sooner.
There’s never really a good or organic time to blurt out you’re not sure if you’re going to wake up one morning in organ failure and die.
I’ve never told any of the guys I’ve gone on dates with because there’s never been a need.
We both knew that we were only together to have a good time.
We enjoyed each other’s company and had fun, but neither of us was in danger of losing our hearts to the other and therefore there wasn’t any risk, only reward.
But Levi isn’t like that. I’m not like that with him.
It’s way too easy to think about what could be.
To picture myself beside him ten, twenty, forty years down the road, kids and grandkids surrounding us with laughter and love.
To forget the realities that are my life.
That if I were to get pregnant, it would be one with high risks and the danger of something going wrong with either my health, the baby’s, or both.
That there isn’t any guarantee that my donor liver will continue to function the way I need it to, or that if it does stop working properly, a new liver can be found and a second transplant performed. Or if I’d accept it.
I hadn’t sat down with a pen and paper with the intention of slamming on the brakes between us.
I’d only thought to answer his questions about why I’d spent time in the hospital.
Open myself up a little more and share about my past, hoping that he’d do the same and I’d get even more vignettes into what experiences had formed Levi Redding into the man I know.
But as I wrote, my mind kept turning. Things I’d refused to entertain before kept resurfacing, refusing to be pushed back down any longer.
My mind kept forming that picture decades down the road, and I realized the heaviness in my chest was grief over something I don’t have and possibly can never have.
“Hayley?” Jack’s voice shakes me out of my introspection. “What do you think? Can you talk Levi into joining us?”
I paste on a smile even though my insides are now a puddle of emotional mush in the pit of my stomach. “We’ll see,” I say noncommittally.
Jack bobs his head in acknowledgment, then says he’s going to be in the back working on inventory if I need him.
I wave him off, moving in the opposite direction to return to the little setup I have outside under an elm tree.
It’s slightly secluded, but I’ve been in this spot every day for well over a week, so people know I’m here.
So far today, I haven’t had even a single patron stop by, but the morning is still young.
Sitting down, I pull out my little notebook and a pen, thumbing through the pages until I find the next empty space. The pen scratches the paper as I write the day’s date at the top and Filled in at the General Store for Jack MacDonald so he could handle a plumbing emergency at his sister’s house.
It doesn’t feel like enough.
It will never, can never be enough.
The hard slap of boots crunching on loose gravel makes me lift my head.
I freeze, eyes widening as Levi’s long stride eats up the distance between us, and then slip my journal into my bag.
His face is a thundercloud, shoulders bunched almost to his ears, his body a tight coil of contained tension under his faded blue mechanic coveralls.
He jerks to a halt in front of me, his jaw flexing in determination as he slaps a hand against the top of the game table, a copy of Matthew Perry’s memoir that had been standing up now falling on its face.
“What is this?” Levi asks in a controlled tone that makes my skin tingle.
My gaze darts down to his hand, the envelope holding my letter pressed between his palm and the tabletop. I lift my eyes and swallow.
“What is this, Hayley?” he asks again. Quieter this time, though each word seems to have been sharpened on a whetstone of pain.
Tiny pinpricks stab behind my eyelids as a lump forms and lodges in my throat. I knew this would be hard. For both of us. I knew it, but the knowing didn’t leave me any more prepared.
“I’ll tell you what I think this is.” He places his other hand on the table and leans forward, invading my space until our noses are only inches apart.
The faint smell of mint on his breath mingles with the sharp hints of engine oil and sweat.
The combination is so distinctly him that I’m hit with a fresh wave of grief.
After this, I won’t be able to take my car to get an oil change without being reminded of Levi and experiencing this sense of loss all over again.
“I think this is you attempting to think you know what’s best for me and giving me a way out.” He’s searching my eyes now, the hard lines of his face softening the longer he looks at me, as if he sees and recognizes how much it cost me to write each one of those words on that piece of paper.
I swallow the emotions thick in my throat and slowly nod just once. What else can I do? We both know that he’s right.
He raises his hands and brackets his callused palms on either side of my face, gripping my head in a firm hold that’s sending the message that neither of us are going anywhere.
“I don’t want a way out, Hayley. I’m all in, you hear me?
I am all in.” His voice breaks in a strangled cry as he pulls my head forward and presses his lips to mine.
We kiss like it’s an argument. Every feeling of frustration, despair, and unfairness is spoken in nips of lips and clashing of mouths.
I can hear him accusing me of playing the martyr and not allowing him to make his own decision in the flex of his fingers on my scalp and the way he grazes his teeth along my bottom lip.
His silent plea to give him a chance and not push him away is spoken in the gentle caress of his thumbs along my cheeks.
I kiss him back with the same urgency, grabbing at him and clutching his shoulders in such a way that I know I’m holding on to him physically in this moment the way I wish I had the possibility of holding him close forever.
I argue back, meeting his lips in rebuttals.
I’m trying to do the noble thing, I say as I trail small, closed-mouth kisses from one corner of his mouth to the other.
I wish things were different. The message is sent in a guttural moan that vibrates through my chest. He swallows the sound, taking it into himself, and then pours more of his own conviction back into me through his embrace.
A tear slips past my closed lids, and all of a sudden anger I didn’t even know was inside of me boils in my gut.
It’s not fair. Nothing about my life has been fair.
It isn’t fair that someone had to die so that I could live.
It isn’t fair that other people my age are getting married, having kids, and buying their first home while I’m lying to myself that I’m content without those things.
It isn’t fair that Levi removed the rose-colored glasses of disillusionment from my eyes and makes me yearn for something that would be selfish of me to pursue.
A sob breaks from my lips, pouring out from a place deep and hidden inside. So hidden, I hadn’t even been aware it was there. I’m heaving now, my shoulders shaking and tears spilling from my eyes like a broken dam.
These thoughts and feelings are coming at me like a stalker I didn’t know I had.
They must have been there all this time, lurking in the shadows, and now they’ve sprung out and struck me with the force of a mean right hook.
I can’t ignore them any longer. Can’t hold them back.
Writing that letter . . . facing Levi . .
. it’s brought things I didn’t even know I felt to the surface.
Desires. Dreams. Guilt. Regret. Anger. Sadness. I’m overwhelmed by it all.
Seemingly unperturbed by my choking sobs and loud sniffles even though I know the unearthly cries I’m making must be akin to an icepick stabbing at his cerebellum, Levi gently kisses away my tears and strokes my bangs away from my face.
He moves around the table, his arms long enough to keep his hold on my face while he does so.
He scoops me up and takes my seat, resettling me on his lap.
My legs drape across his, and my head tucks against his chest. He rocks me gently back and forth, making calming shushing noises and squeezing me in a tight hug.
I don’t know how long I cry, but eventually my tears start to dry. I wipe my eyes and place a hand on Levi’s chest to dislodge myself enough to sit up. His arms loosen but don’t fall away. My mouth opens to apologize, but he shakes his head before I can say a single word.
His jaw is tight again, and I feel bad because I know that I’ve caused this man both emotional and physical pain today.
That martyr voice in my head tries to tell me See, you’re already hurting him.
That’s only going to get worse, not better.
The right thing to do is walk away before you cause even more damage.
But I try to quiet the unwanted accusation before it takes too much of a stronghold in my thoughts.
Levi’s gaze bores into mine, grappling hooks shot into my very soul to seek purchase. The man is waging an invasion on my heart. “Before we kissed the first time, do you remember what I asked you?”
As if I could ever forget. “You wanted to know how I liked being touched,” I say in a whisper.
He traces the shell of my ear with his finger. When we first met, he flinched at any physical contact between us. Now, he can’t seem to stop himself from touching me any chance he gets.
“It was more than just touching. I wanted to know what your needs were, Hayley. I know what it’s like for people to not be considerate—to assume we all think or feel or process the same way.
But we don’t. And if what you need is someone who lives in the moment with you without thought of the future, then carpe diem is my new life motto. ”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Look, I know I’m not the poster child for good communication.
I tend to retreat and shut the world out when things get to be too much.
” He pushes back my bangs, tucking my hair behind my ear.
“I don’t want to do that with you, and I don’t want you to do that with me.
We have to communicate—talking, letters, carrier pigeons—anything.
I know it’s not going to be easy. None of it will be easy. ”
He pauses and looks into my eyes, letting me know he understands everything I tried to tell him in the letter and all the implications that knowledge brings.
He knows, and he’s still right here. “But good things are worth fighting for, and you, Miss Hayley Holt, are the very best thing that has ever happened to me. So, I’ll say it again.
I’m all in. For however many days you have on this earth.
For however long you will have me. I’m not going anywhere. ”