Chapter Thirty-Seven Damion
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“Someone who wants to explore with you is someone to explore.”
—Remington
Damion
“This is it,” Julia said, pulling up in front of the tiny cabin.
It’d been a shock to my system when Julia suggested we visit “Lou’s place.” She said I had to “see it to believe it,” and then she explained that since she hadn’t had a chance to visit since his death because of their move to New York, she “wouldn’t mind the closure.”
And, honestly, I didn’t know how to feel about that.
Before I could figure out how to navigate this emotional roller coaster I suddenly found myself on, Julia and I were using the grocery store delivery truck to head out to Remi’s fucking cabin.
On the way there, she told me how she and her family got to know “Lou” when they started delivering groceries to him. How that led to inviting him over for Thanksgiving and Christmas, then barbecues on weekends when they realized he was living alone.
She told me about how Lou told wild stories about his travels and waxed poetic about even the most mundane things.
And as she kept on going about how amazing Lou was, how important he was, every word was like a painful, emotional punch.
She rolled down both windows as she put the truck in park. “It’s hard to believe he’s not inside.”
What a perfect place for Remi, I thought, completely able to picture him sitting out on that porch.
It looked small and simple, like it probably only had three rooms, but it reminded me of all the places he’d flocked to when I traveled with him.
He’d had all the money in the world, and used it to do everything he could to live life, but he never cared about the finer things.
The flashy things. He was simplistic in a way very few people were.
He’d take a cabin with a funky backstory over a five-star hotel every time.
“Is this the way it always looked?” I asked.
I could tell that there was a lake behind the cabin.
Well, more like a fishing pond. It was small, but surrounded by cottonwood trees, with a wooden dock that screamed of something Remi would’ve loved.
In front of the house, tall shrubs lined the property, shrubs that were overgrown but beautiful. Wild.
“It’s exactly the way it always looked,” she said. “The first time I delivered here, I remember thinking it looked run-down, but then I was blown away when I went inside.”
“What’s it like?” I asked, wanting her to slow down and describe every tiny detail. Hearing about him from someone else, details I’d never heard about things he’d done that I knew nothing about, made me feel closer to him somehow.
Which was probably why I’d taken that picture of Remi and slipped it into my pocket.
The second I did it, I convinced myself I’d nabbed it because it could be evidence of… something.
But that was bullshit.
The truth was that I hadn’t been able to let go of the image because, fuck, Uncle Remi was smiling at me.
The thing no one ever told you about death was the way the door to a person just slammed shut in an instant.
Suddenly, without notice, your contact with them was gone forever.
And I was only realizing now that I’d been unprepared for the sudden blackout.
Since no one in my family really ever wanted to talk about him, sometimes it felt like Remi had never existed at all except in my mind.
We’d had a memorial service right after we got the news, but the very next day, everyone immediately behaved as if it’d never happened.
As if Remi wasn’t here a minute ago, and then gone for good in the next.
“When you walk inside, there’s just one room.
It’s small, but all the walls are covered in wood.
There’s a surprisingly well-equipped kitchen, but it’s just a tiny galley-style off in one corner.
The place is all about the view. You sit in that cabin and you could just stare out at the pond for hours. ”
I wondered if my face was giving away what an absolute heart twist this visit was turning out to be, holy shit.
“Yeah?” I said, trying to keep it together.
“And Lou was a crazy reader. Shelves and shelves of books in the cabin, books in closets, books in the bedrooms; I swear to God all the man did was fish and read.”
“Sounds like a pretty great life,” I said, feeling way too fucking emotional because that was the way every place I’d ever visited with Remi had been.
Full of books and stories.
That made her look over at me. “I cannot imagine you, Mr. New York, being happy fishing and reading all day every day.”
“You don’t know,” I said, throwing her words back at her. “That sounds pretty fucking great right now.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” she agreed. “I think you might be in danger of liking Nebraska, Damion.”
“If I didn’t have to deal with Nebraskans, it isn’t half bad,” I replied, needing to lighten the tone because I was in serious danger of bawling soon.
“Do you want to go around to the back?” she asked. “I mean, from what Lauren told me, no one has bought the house yet, so all things considered, it’s still Lou’s. Someone might kick us out, but there’s nothing illegal about going in someone’s backyard and peeking through their windows, right?”
Hell yeah, I wanted to. “Come on,” I said, opening my door.
We walked around to the back of the cabin, and my throat got ridiculously tight when I saw the fishing boat tied to the dock.
Because he’d sent me a picture of that boat. It was Remi’s boat, his pride and joy.
He’d built the red cedar dinghy by hand—multiple letters had described the process—and it was gorgeous. That shiny ten-footer was a gleaming throwback that screamed Remi’s name.
“Lou loved that little boat,” she said as we walked through the grass. “One day when he was sanding it, he turned on the Dracula audiobook and we listened to the whole thing in its entirety. I sat in a chair and got a terrible sunburn while he worked his ass off. He wouldn’t let me help.”
I was torn between jealousy and absolute fucking joy as I pictured it.
“Let’s go,” she said. “I want to peek in the window.”
She pulled me with her as she climbed up the stairs to the deck, and I didn’t give a shit about anything except the way it was making me feel, hearing her talk about my favorite person in the world.
I was starving and she was nourishment.
I grabbed her hand and instead of removing it from my sleeve, I wrapped my fingers around her cold ones, needing the contact.
Her eyes narrowed as she glanced over at me. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to warm my cold hands,” I lied, shrugging.
“You’re a little clingy for a city boy,” she teased, those amber eyes playful as they moved over my face like she was trying to figure me out.
“And you sure are mouthy for a country girl.”
When we got onto the deck, she put her hands up to the window and peered inside like a little kid. It warmed the sadness in my chest, making me laugh.
“Nothing’s changed,” she said on a gasp. “It looks exactly the same as it did when he lived here.”
I mimicked her actions, putting my hands on the glass and peeking inside.
And it looked exactly like she’d described, more Remi-coded than I even would’ve imagined.
“I’m sure it’s locked,” she said, but when she tugged on the sliding door, it opened.
“Jules,” I warned. “You know you can’t go inside, right?”
She ignored me and pulled the door open a little farther. “I just want to say goodbye.”
Goodbye?
I swallowed and gave her a nod, feeling more fondness for her than I had since we’d met because no matter what was real or fake with us or real or fake with her and her family, the emotions she had for Lou—Remi—were authentic.
And that made me feel close to her in a way that I’d maybe never felt with another person.
She’d known, and loved, the person I’d known best in the world.
The person who’d shown me the world.
I followed her as she walked around the rooms, taking pictures with her phone.
It was hard to breathe, though, because I saw things I recognized as his.
The book-page paperweight that I’d given him as a birthday present, the framed picture of him in Nepal when he’d climbed Everest, the compass; it was almost too much.
I felt overwhelmed by emotion as I soaked in every last bit of Remi.
The place somehow even smelled like his place, like a cross between mothballs and Gain laundry detergent.
But we both nearly jumped out of our skin when we heard the cat.
“Mr. Dipshit!” Julia squealed, her voice coming out a little strained.
I glanced over and she had tears in her eyes—again—as she grinned at that stupid cat.
“So whoever is taking care of the house is taking care of you, too, huh?” she said in awe. “Hell, it wouldn’t surprise me if this cat figured out how to live here alone. He’s a total independent asshole.”
I know, I wanted to say.
“All cats are,” I managed, kind of wanting to cry right along with her as we both dropped down to pet the stupid cat.
The cat, who leaned into my touch like we were old friends.
Because we were.
Yeah, I remember you too, buddy, I thought, really fucking struggling to keep it together as Mr. D. started to purr.
I didn’t believe in bullshit like reincarnation or spirits, but as the cat butted his soft head against my hand, I felt like Remi was close, somehow.
“Are you okay?” I asked as we both stood, as I watched her unshed tears finally spill over. My thumbs seemed to find her cheeks, and I watched as they brushed away her tears, feeling like I couldn’t breathe again.
“Yeah,” she croaked. “I just miss him, even though it’s ridiculous, because he was as much of a stranger as he was a friend.”
“I get it, though,” I said, my voice cracking.
She went a little blurry then, and I was pretty sure I looked like a psycho, because why would I be blinking back tears over her old friend “Lou”?
“Most of the time I think you’re a huge New York jerk,” she said, “but sometimes you surprise me by how decent you are.”
“Why are you saying this?” I asked, clearing my throat and looking away from her.
“Because I literally just saw a tear in your eye, so unless you have allergies, you are being a good human, empathizing with my emotional ridiculousness.”
And just like that, I fully trusted her.
I mean, if I was being honest with myself, I’d been trusting her for a while.
But as I looked at her, I realized that she was a thousand percent who she said she was. She was a girl from Springfield-fucking-Nebraska who’d been kind enough to my uncle to make him want to make sure her family was okay when he was gone.
Family.
A family of warmth, hugs, and kindness. Tough love and inside jokes.
Would I ever know that again, now that Remi was gone?
“Are you okay?” Julia asked, and I realized as she blinked up at me that my thoughts must have been painted all over my face. I was losing it.
Whatever dam I’d built to try to keep the emotions of Remi from surging was about to break.
What the hell am I doing here?
“I’m not sure,” I admitted, unsure how to explain my reaction, relieved that she didn’t appear to be looking for an explanation.
“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.
“Actually—” I cut myself off because it was stupid.
“Actually, what?” she said, her mouth turning up in a little grin. “What were you going to say?”
My eyes dipped down to that gorgeous smile and I said it. “Do you want to take the boat out?”