3. Reese
Reese
Ciao Bella is a bit too much for me. We’ve only been here ten minutes, and I’m already wishing I could dart out the front door and opt for a cheeseburger eaten on the back of a tailgate.
Under a blanket of stars.
The face of a certain handsome cowboy swims into the front of my memory, bringing with it an onslaught of emotions better left buried in the recesses of my mind.
“You okay?”
Clearing my throat, I shift my gaze from the ornate fountain we’re sitting beside toward my date sitting across the table. Max Shep is the opposite of that cowboy in every single way.
His hair is light, his eyes bright, and there’s always a smile on his face. His hands are soft and uncalloused.
He’s handsome, kind, and seems to be completely enamored by me. Which should absolutely thrill me, I know. Unfortunately, as the anniversary of my life falling apart grows closer, the only thing I can focus on is what’s in the past.
No matter how many times I try to remind myself that I am not supposed to be looking back, that rearview mirror is still so enticing. Likely because there was never any closure.
“Yeah, sorry.” I close my eyes and take a sip of my water. “Actually.” Opening my eyes, I smile awkwardly at Max. “I got fired today.”
His expression falls, and he stares at me, shocked. “What? Are you serious? Why?”
I take a piece of warm bread out of the basket in front of me, even though my stomach is little more than a churning mess right now. I’m pretty sure if I eat anything, it’ll only come right back up.
“You remember that I told you I dated my boss, Phil?” He nods. “Well, he decided today that working with me is just too much for his ego to handle, so he fired me.”
Max reaches across the table and takes my hand. The touch is soft, warm, but it leaves me wanting for so much more. Lightning. That’s what I crave. Because I’ve already had it, a long, long time ago.
Stop obsessing, Reese.
“I am so sorry, Reese.”
“Yeah, well. Thanks.”
“Can you go after him for wrongful termination?”
“I can try, but he claims there are complaints against me and that, combined with the budget, is why he had to let me go.”
“So, he’s covering himself from a potential lawsuit.”
I nod. “I don’t have any legitimate complaints, but that doesn’t mean some weren’t filed on his behalf.” Tears blur my vision. “I’m sorry. You brought me to this beautiful place, and I’m just being a bummer.”
“Please don’t apologize.” He runs his thumb over the top of my hand. “Seriously, Reese, none of this is your fault.”
“Thanks.” I smile, then use my free hand to wipe a tear away.
“Do you want to call it a night? We can have them package up our food and go back to eat at your place. Or mine.”
My stomach twists. He’s been dropping hints like that for a week now. Subtle comments about taking our relationship to a level I have no interest in reaching anytime soon. With anyone.
Of course, I could still say no even if I did let him come over.
But my home is my safe space. It’s a studio apartment, making it a far more intimate setting than the single-bedroom apartment I had when I first moved here.
And letting anyone in the same room as my bed, even if it’s just to eat dinner at my little table, is too much.
“I appreciate that, but if it’s okay with you, I think I’ll just head home.” I push my chair back and grab my sweater from the back. Max gets to his feet and helps me put the sweater on.
“Are you sure? I can drive you.”
“Positive.” I lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek. “I really am sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Max rubs both hands up and down my arms. “Call me tomorrow?”
“I will. Goodnight.” I force one final smile, then take my purse and start toward the door. My heels click against the tile, and I focus on that sound rather than the pain trying to claw a hole through my chest.
You can do this, Reese.
But can I? Can I do this?
Every hit I take feels like it could be the final blow. The one that knocks me off my feet, leaving me too exhausted to get back up.
“Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.” My Bible has been open to Psalm 30 since I got home. Not that I can see it through the tears constantly filling my eyes.
Leaning back against my headboard, wearing a large sweater to keep me warm, it’s all I can do not to curl into the fetal position and cry until my body can’t produce any more tears.
I have faith in the Lord.
I know that God is good even when life sucks.
I know that trials come and that our faith is forged in them.
Mine certainly was.
But knowing those things and remembering to cling to them when the shadows creep into my mind, when the demons scream twisted lies in my ears, is something entirely different.
The wooden box beside my Bible brings me another wave of pain as I reach forward and run my fingers over the top. W + R is carved into the top in elegant script, though the wood around it is worn from the years.
Everything I couldn’t bring myself to toss is inside, though I haven’t had the strength to open the box in a long, long time.
Still, seeing it helps me confront as much of the pain as I can take.
Because I know that my ragged emotions have little to do with being fired and everything to do with the date that is closer every day.
Nearly two decades.
That’s where we’re at.
Nineteen years since everything fell apart.
My cell rings, so I lift it from my bed. When I see my mom’s name on the screen, I take a few deep breaths and wipe my eyes before answering. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, Sugar. Wait, what’s wrong?”
I should have known she’d still hear it in my voice. “I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not. What is it?”
Closing my eyes, I get to my feet and head into the bathroom to look in the mirror. My face is splotchy, my eyes bloodshot, and the red hair I’d once had wrangled into a messy bun has fallen around my face.
I turn away from my reflection. “I got fired.” It’s so much easier than giving her the whole truth. One I haven’t shared with anyone since right after it happened.
“Oh, Sugar. Why?”
“Phil didn’t want to work with his ex anymore, apparently. Of course, that’s not the reasoning I got.”
“That is it. I’m coming to deal with him.”
“Mom.” I laugh. “It really is okay. Maybe this is a sign. A chance for a fresh start.”
“Doesn’t mean he doesn’t need to be dealt with.”
“Mom. Seriously, please don’t come here.” But then it hits me. I haven’t been home in a long time; maybe this is the chance to return. To finally confront the place I ran from and never looked back. “Because I want to come see you. If that’s okay.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “Of course that’s okay. You are welcome here whenever and for however long you want. You know that.”
I draw in a shaky breath. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Of course. Are you sure you don’t want me to come there, though? I can be stern when I need to be.”
“I am well aware of that, Vivian Faye.”
She chuckles softly. “Sugar, I am so sorry.”
“Thanks, Mom. It’s a hiccup, but not one I can’t handle.”
A silence settles over the call. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”
No. Not even close. “What else could it be? Getting fired is the worst thing that’s happened to me all year. Aside from catching him cheating, that is. Though I don’t consider that bad, since I caught him.”
She’s quiet for another moment. I can picture her in her living room, simmering over my ex cheating then firing me less than a handful of months later. “Why don’t you let me come to you? I can stay for a few days, and we can figure out what to do.”
“I really want to get out of the city, if that’s okay. Besides, you have a lot going on at the ranch, and maybe working with my hands will help. You always did say a little dirt can heal a broken heart.”
It’s what she said every day after my dad passed. Whenever anyone would tell her to take time off, to let someone else handle the ranch, she’d tell them to mind their own business. That no amount of tears would heal her heart like a little dirt under her fingernails.
Maybe it’s time for that.
Some dirt under my fingernails and sweat on my brow.
“That, it can, Sugar. I’ll get the guest room ready. You and Aragorn come stay as long as you want.”
Smiling, I reach over and pat the thick, black fur of my German Shepherd. He glances over at me, brown eyes still half-closed in sleep. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Of course. That’s what I’m here for. I love you, Sugar. This storm shall pass. They all do.”
“I know,” I reply. “See you tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Mom.” As I end the call and toss my cell to the side, I stare at my open Bible.
“This storm shall pass. They all do.” My mom’s words run through my mind on repeat. Do they all pass? I know they should, but I feel like I’ve been living in the same hurricane for nearly two decades now.
Sure, there are moments of sunshine. Or warmth. But then it’s right back into the icy depths of the tumultuous waters. Tears fill my eyes again, and I lift the wooden box, cradling it in my lap.
How many nights have I sat just like this?
How many times have I dialed the number I’ve had memorized since I was a teenager with hearts in her eyes?
Yet I know there is no world in which Weston Hayes and I will ever work. There’s too much damage there. So much darkness that it would smother any of the light I’ve managed to find.
Besides, he’s probably been married a long time already. Maybe even has a couple— I choke on the thought, the tears in my eyes becoming so thick I can’t see.
I used to imagine him showing up here and sweeping me off my feet all over again. But as the years passed, I had to confront those thoughts for what they were: the foolish dreams of a teenager.
And that girl is so far gone that the woman I am now wouldn’t even recognize her.
My fingers brush worn wood near the latch on the box he made me as a Valentine’s Day gift when we were fourteen. Inside, I’ve tucked away every memory I kept. Every photograph, tattered as they are from being pinned to a photo board in my room.
The single violet he surprised me with in homeroom one random Wednesday morning.
The earrings he made for me because he thought it would be fun to try something new.
Before my mind can focus on the heaviest memory in this box, the loss that still haunts me every day of my life, I set it aside and get to my feet.
Tomorrow, I will go home.
Tomorrow, I will brush myself off and get back up.
I’ll spend some time at the ranch, far away from the town that still remembers him and me together.
And I’ll start healing.