Chapter 9 #3
It is my first time leaving the apartment without my hat and coat on, while the sun makes an appearance and I finally feel the heat against my fair skin, like the first day of spring.
A beautiful day is surely a sign that this is the right thing for Sasha—or that’s just one of those things I tell myself to cope.
We both look at each other, forcing fake smiles, comically exaggerating them to where we laugh, but with the laughs come some tears.
I’ve been trying to stay strong, not wanting to break before her.
But since we’re both doing this weird crying laugh, I pull her in for a hug, running my hand across her long, twisted hair, inhaling the citrus scents rising from her neck.
Clementines and cream, like a summer pudding I can only dream of.
I breathe it in, stitching the scent to the projection of her face in my mind, along with the cadence of her voice, the ripple of her laugh.
I know what I want to say, but it’s hard to part with the words, which escape as a whisper. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Me too,” she says with a sob in her voice.
“Miss Jones, ready when you are,” the sergeant says.
“It’s my time, Lee.” She pushes her smile through and bops my nose. “Thank you, missy. I couldn’t have done it without you.” And she turns to hop in the truck.
I bravely grit my teeth with a shivering breath as I watch them take her away, leaving me alone with my pounding heart. I tame the tears, having to gulp to stop my quivering lip.
“Pfft! Women! Always so emotional,” Donnie says, and it immediately flips my sadness into anger.
“Hey, Donnie…” He turns to me, and I hold my middle finger up. “Fuck you!”
I stomp away through the streets, fully exposed as a woman in only my vest and jeans as I break into a run at such a pace that my long hair flows behind me.
I don’t know where I’m going at first, but it’s set deep within me like the constancy of a compass, reminding me of being a girl again.
My feet pound the sidewalk, slipping between the bodies as I run to the only thing that has felt like love since my fathers.
No matter the house we stayed in, the attic we hid in, or the road we drove on, I always felt secure and treasured by my fathers’ side, and that was always what home felt like to me.
I had let my walls down, brick by brick, but what I didn’t realise is how I had built something in their place.
Love is not something you find. It is not as instantaneous as the movies would have you believe.
It is tailored with time, woven with words, and formed with friendship.
I never intended to build a love with Joey, but it is a home resting on sturdy foundations, something that could last a lifetime.
It arrived without expectation or preparation, but now that I’ve discovered it, I don’t know how to live with it—but I want to learn!
If I’m with Joey, I could learn to live any life, as long as it’s with him.
I barge through The Riverside’s door, breathless with the run. Smith narrows his eyes in confusion, standing up straight as if ready to defend me. I shake my head at him, and he seems to know why I’m here, standing aside to let me pass.
When I swing the door open into the bar, I’m overwhelmed with conflicting feelings.
Love. Loss. Joey is propped against the back of the bar in his usual spot.
Every head turns to me as I rush to be near him—to my home—but I have to stagger to a stop before I reach him.
The cameras and eyes keep an invisible wall between us, reminding me not to collapse into his arms and cry into his chest—to not be an emotional woman, before all the men. I need to be stronger. I have to be.
His eyes crescent. “She’s gone?”
My lip shivers, and I brave a nod with a shaky inhale. He takes a single stride towards me, pulls me in, and rests my head on his chest, holding me in front of everyone. It’s a bold move to make—a braveness in the face of Krick that I wasn’t sure he could possess.
“I got you, Lee,” he hushes me.
I press my teeth tight to refuse the tears. If I tell him I love him now, I won’t be able to part with him. So, I say something else. Something with just as much heart. Something which screams my commitment to him.
“I can’t go, Joey,” I whisper. “I won’t go without you. Do you understand?!”
“Just say the word, and I’m on it, Lee.”
I pull back with a strained smile, conscious that we’re being watched. The step I take away from him is painful, but necessary.
He whispers, “I’d follow you anywhere.”
It’s as if he heard my intentions within my coded words.
He knows my plan, and although he takes a step back, I have never felt closer to him.
It’s a relief that our connection is as real as it feels.
I’d go anywhere with him, and he with me.
It’s time I finally let my walls down and tell him the truth. Expose the real me.
“You should know something,” I whisper. “My real name … is Everlee. Everlee Clade.”