6. Selene
Selene
Iremember everything about that day, down to the scent of fresh-cut grass and faint gasoline that filled the air.
I remember the sounds of people laughing, the distant hum of traffic, and even some weirdos dressed in clown costumes making out on the sidewalk. It’s been years, but the memory is so vivid it feels like it just happened.
It was my first week on campus. The late afternoon sun was hot and sweat dampened the back of my neck as I crouched next to my car in the parking lot, frowning at the flat tire in front of me. My hands were smudged with grease, and I had no clue what I was doing.
I’d already called the number on my insurance card, but they said it would be hours before anyone could come.
I was alone, frustrated, embarrassed, and late for an important class.
All the students who passed by with quick glances made no offer to help, and I was slowly beginning to conclude that the college was a place filled with mean people.
But before I could finish that thought, I heard someone approach from behind.
“Need a hand?”
I looked up, squinting against the sunlight so I could see him . When he came into focus, my jaw nearly dropped to the ground.
Standing before me was the most gorgeous young man I’d ever seen.
He stood there with his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans, a loose gray T-shirt stretched across his chest. His chestnut hair was slightly messy and had a few brown strands that looked golden in the sun. And his eyes—green and bright held a kind of warmth that immediately put me at ease.
I was absolutely tongue-tied, and I forgot he asked me a question.
But he smiled and moved closer. “I’m going to take that as a yes.” He said and then moved past me to my car. He crouched down and inspected the tire before standing up again. “Got a spare?”
I nodded.
He moved to the trunk and brought out the spare and a jack. Luckily, the car belonged to my uncle, and he had kept his cars in perfect order.
“Darby,” he said as he put the tire beneath the car and rolled up his sleeves. I shamelessly ogled at his tanned, sexy muscles.
I don’t know why I didn’t tell him my name then. Maybe I wanted to be mysterious, or maybe still tongue-tied.
He chuckled and looked up. “Fine. I’ll call you Red.”
My heart skipped, and I stepped back. I just watched him work. Every muscle in his back and arms flexed as he worked. I remember being mesmerized by the ease with which he handled everything.
“First flat?” he asked, glancing up at me.
I nodded. “Is it that obvious?”
He grinned. “A little.”
He made me feel like being completely clueless wasn’t a big deal, and it wasn’t embarrassing at all.
When he finished, he stood and wiped his hands on a hankie he’d pulled from his backpack. He put away the tools in the trunk, returned, and kicked the tires. “There you go. All set.”
I stared at him, unsure of what to say. I just settled for gratitude. “Thank you,” I said.
He nodded, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. He looked at his watch. “No problem.”
And then he turned to leave.
He didn’t ask for my number. Didn’t linger or flirt. Just started walking away like it was the most normal thing in the world to help a complete stranger and expect nothing in return.
“Wait!” I called after him.
He paused, looking back over his shoulder as I walked to him.
“Selene.”
He grinned. “That’s your name?”
I nodded, and then he chuckled. God, I remember how the sound of his laughter made me feel like a hundred butterflies had gathered in my stomach.
“I prefer Red,” he said and turned to keep walking.
I grabbed his hand to stop him, and the contact was…pure electricity. It was unlike anything I’d ever felt in my life before. It seemed he felt it too because I heard his sharp intake of breath.
I dropped his hand, and my knees felt weak. “Can I—uh—give you my number? You know, in case I need more tire advice or something?”
He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a half-smile. “Sure, Red.”
I scribbled my number on the back of an old receipt from my bag, my hands shaking slightly as I handed it to him.
He tucked the receipt into his pocket, nodded once, and walked away.
That was the beginning.
From that day on, Darby became a part of my life in ways I never expected. He called the next evening, and we talked for three hours. I don’t even remember what we talked about.
The first time we went out, he took me to a park outside the city.
It wasn’t fancy, but it was perfect. We sat on a blanket under the stars, sharing a box of greasy takeout and laughing about how terrible and unhealthy the food was.
He made me feel safe like I could be myself without worrying about being judged.
Darby wasn’t just sweet. He was thoughtful in ways most people weren’t. He remembered little things—how I hated coffee but loved the smell of it, how I nibbled on my lips when I was nervous, how I loved thunderstorms but was terrified of lightning.
One night, I was studying late for an exam, and he showed up at my dorm with a bag of snacks and a thermos of hot chocolate. “Brain food,” he said, setting it on my desk and pulling me into one of his strong, long hugs.
I fell for him quickly. Too quickly.
And he fell for me.
We built something real, something solid and unshakable. Late-night phone calls turned into weekend road trips, and quiet mornings turned into lazy afternoons.
He believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself.
Then I left. It's more like I had to leave.
I hurt him. I know that. And maybe that’s why his anger feels so sharp now, like a knife twisting in my chest.
I close my eyes, letting the memory fade, but it never really disappears.
***
I zip my suitcase and glance around the room one last time, making sure I haven’t forgotten anything. The bed is neatly made, the nightstand clear, and everything else is in order.
Taking a deep breath, I hoist the suitcase off the bed and drag it toward the door.
Olivia is waiting for me in the foyer, her dark hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. She smiles warmly, though I can see from her eyes that she must be exhausted.
Garrett stands next to her, his hands in his pockets, his easy grin in place.
None of them asked me about what happened at breakfast yesterday; honestly, I’m relieved.
“Sorry, I have to leave so early. I want to get to work on the article.”
Garrett stretches his hand for a handshake. “Thanks for everything, Selene. You’ve been great.”
Olivia hugs me and squeezes me slightly. “I’ll call you when I get to town, and we can fix a date for drinks.”
“Sounds perfect,” I say and head outside, where my designated car is waiting. I take one last deep breath of the perfect Hawaiian air, let the sun hit my face, sigh, and get in the car.
On the flight, I try to focus on the article in my head, piecing together the story, but every so often, I think of my last meeting with Darby.
Starting from the unexpected jab at breakfast to the kiss and then the slap. Since I can’t get him out of my mind, I try to focus mainly on the kiss and a more distant past where Darby was an entirely different person.
***
When I finally land, I order a ride to my brother's house. By the time my ride pulls into my brother’s driveway, the ache in my chest has dulled and almost disappeared because I know what’s waiting for me here.
The small, single-story house sits at the end of a quiet street. The yard is filled with scattered toys and a slightly lopsided basketball hoop. The sound of laughter greets me as I step out of the car.
My heart swells instantly at the sound.
The door swings open as I drop my suitcase and pay the driver.
Leo stands in the doorway, barefoot, his green eyes wide with excitement. His dark brown hair is tousled, sticking up in all directions, and there’s a smudge of chocolate on his cheek.
“Mom!” he yells and starts running towards me.
“No running without-”
He launches himself at me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I forget my lecture, drop my bag, and hug him back, inhaling the familiar scent of bubblegum and lemon. “Hey, buddy.”
He pulls back and grins up at me, his teeth slightly crooked but perfect in their own way. “Uncle Jake made pancakes, but I ate yours.”
I laugh, ruffling his hair. “That sounds about right.”
My elder brother appears behind him, a spatula in hand and a knowing smile on his face. His dark hair is streaked with gray, and his frame is solid from years of hard work. “Figured you’d be hungry, so I made extra.”
“Thanks, Jake,” I say, stepping inside. “No thanks, Leo, you pancake thief.”
The house smells like syrup and coffee and the kitchen table is cluttered with plates and crayons. Leo’s two latest ‘masterpieces’ take up the remaining space.
I told Jake not to let him draw in the kitchen, but Jake spoils Leo as much as he spoiled me when I was Leo’s age.
I set my bag down and sit with Leo while Jake clears the table. My son chatters nonstop, telling me everything I’ve missed in the last few days. Soccer practice, a new comic book he’s reading, the time he climbed the tallest tree in the backyard and scared Jake half to death.
I can’t help but see his father in him.
I can’t help but see Darby in him.
“Mom, are you listening?” Leo asks, waving a crayon in front of my face.
I blink, forcing a smile. “Of course, I am.”
He narrows his eyes, clearly unconvinced, but he grins anyway and goes back to chatting, and I just watch him, taking in every single thing he says.
I hang on to his every word, clean the chocolate on his cheeks, and scold him when he tells parts of his story where he acted naughty, but all the while, my heart swells.
The love I feel for him expands in my chest and overflows.
“Alright, Leo,” Jake says from the kitchen. “Your mother has a ton of work on her hands. So come help me clean up breakfast and start the dinner for her since you ate her breakfast.”
Leo skips from the chair, kisses my cheek, and runs into the kitchen.
I retreat to the small office Jake set up for me in the spare bedroom. The walls are lined with shelves filled with books, most well-worn and familiar. I open my laptop on the desk, surrounded by sticky notes and half-empty coffee mugs.
I pull up the draft of the article, pull my hair up, take a deep breath, and go into writer mode. The words come slowly at first because my thoughts are scattered, but as I type, the story begins to take shape.
I focus on Garrett and Olivia, their love story, and the way their personalities complement each other. I write about the wedding preparations, the attention to detail, and the beautiful testimonies everyone had.
I leave out Darby.
The words flow easier after that.
By the time I finish, it’s past midnight. There is an empty soda can by my side and three empty greasy plates. I hit send, watching as the email disappears.
I close my laptop and step into the hallway. Leo is asleep on the couch, his small body curled under a blanket. His dark lashes rest against his cheeks, and his breathing is soft. I could watch him sleep for hours.
I kneel beside him, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.
He stirs slightly but doesn’t wake.
I sit there for a moment, my hand on his back, feeling the rise and fall of his breaths.
This is what matters.
This is why I left.
But I feel really sad, and something inside me is broken. No matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, I know the truth.
Darby deserved to know.