Chapter 13 Rose
Do I hate him?
I’ve been asking myself this since our last two run-ins at the shop and at the park.
Do I hate him? Is that why I’m reacting this way?
I can’t even really call the park a run-in, seeing as I went there, to see him. Even if I won’t admit it to anyone but myself.
I wanted to feel angry with him when I first heard he was back in town. And I think I did hate him when I was younger. I definitely don’t like how he treated me with the fight and then leaving. Now, though, I hate the way my heart races when I catch sight of him in Erick’s car, and I hate the way his shorts leave little to the imagination that I already feel hot—it’s only fifty degrees. And I hate the way I can’t stop thinking of his hand on my waist and the feel of his breath on my lips.
“Hi, ladies,” his gravely, rich voice calls out to us. He piles it on with a big smile and I can’t seem to help but roll my eyes. This guy is too much. This feels like a set up. Elle knows that I’ve seen him a few times, and I never did get around to talking to the girls about what has been going on when I see him. Then I was just flouncing over to his park, bringing scones, talking about fairies. God, what am I doing?
Elle and I love a good outing and don’t get them all that often with our other homebody friends in the group. I know she’s been busy with her art installation as well and hasn’t been spending much time in Raspberry Falls, so these types of things are really important to her when they work out. Hell, I was looking forward to it and didn’t feel anxious since the park, until I saw his face bobbing up and down in Erick’s truck.
The group starts getting everything set up at the water’s edge, but while we unload the kayaks, I notice we’re one short.
“Wait, where’s Chloe?” I ask, a little too frantically, trying to calm the panic in my voice. I’m okay seeing Wes, but this feels a little too intimate, too fast.
“Yeah, I thought this was a big group-type thing?” Erick chimes in. I glance at Wes and see he’s nervously shuffling around the sand and rocks on the beach. Wait, is he nervous to be around me? What does he have to be nervous about?
“She couldn’t get off, looks like it will just be the four of us,” Elle cheerfully chimes in. A little too cheerfully if you ask me. What is she playing at? I narrow my eyes at her, to which she just beams her beautiful smile back. I resist the urge to stick my tongue out at her.
Moving the kayaks towards the seemingly calm water, we all climb in and get settled. Without warning, Elle’s kayak tips over and she’s completely soaked. “What happened? Are you alright?” I call after her. She’s shaking already, sputtering water, and looking upset. I didn’t see a wave or anything that could have caused that.
“I . . . I don’t know what happened. There must have been a little wave or a branch under the water, and it just knocked me off balance. I’m going to have to go change and then I’ll come back and start out. You guys go on ahead.” Her teeth are chattering now. Fifty is warm in the sun, but bitterly cold when you’re wet. She’s a good kayaker, though—I can’t imagine what would have knocked her over. Must have been some wave, or a tree trunk.
“I’m not going to let you go all alone,” Erick says—always the gentleman. “I’ll come with you and then we can go together. You guys start, we’ll catch up.”
I look from Wes to Elle to Erick. “You can’t be serious.” What are they thinking? I did not sign up for alone time with Mr. Leaves and Doesn’t Call. “We can all just wait and go together. It’s fine.”
“No, you guys go. It will take too long and you’re already ready to go.” Elle’s lips angle slightly upwards and I can smell a setup. I will kill her for this.
I roll my eyes and see Wes is fighting an inner battle of what to say.
Whatever, we don’t need to say anything.
We paddle in silence for about twenty minutes. Despite our short “catch-up” chats, there’s too much to say and ask and I’m apparently too much of a chicken to do it, even after all the pep talks I gave myself last night.
Wes finally breaks the silence.
“I really liked your shop the other day. You’ve done an amazing job with it. Erick told me that it’s one of the best in town.” His nervous smile makes me want to hurl my paddle at him, but I won’t, he’s just trying to be nice. I’m not sure why I’m feeling so aggressive today, anyway.
“Thanks.” I don’t want to talk to him about this but, I add, “I love running it. Definitely my dream.” I cringe. My dream? My dream? Isn’t that what he and I used to talk about? Two kids, in love, dreaming about the future—a cabin on a cliff. I absently hang my head. Why does this feel so hard still?
Wes smiles over his shoulder at me.
“Where did you go to college?” I ask. His smile and presence is so disarming I’m now forgetting why I’ve been worried.
“A community college, then I finished at the U. Did some trainings at different state parks after that. It’s a lot of training, but I knew this was what I wanted to do, so it was worth it.”
I remember.
He always wanted to be a ranger, ever since we were kids. His favorite thing was to run around at the rock beach, even when we were teens.
“Wes . . .” I start, but am startled by a huge clap of thunder. What was once clear, sunny skies have now been taken over with dark, threatening clouds. “We have to get off the water!”
Paddling to shore, we jump out just as lightning starts to flash. Huge droplets start to fall from the sky and we’re soaked instantly. Awkwardly, we take refuge under some large trees, shaded by pines and birch, and he has the audacity to sit by me on a fallen log. Our shoulders are touching and I take in a breath, closing my eyes at the spark I feel when his shoulder brushes mine. The heat I can feel radiating off of him only cements the urge to lean into him.
“Were you going to say something before the rain started?” I turn and meet his eyes. This is torture. The rain continues to drench us even under the trees, and I can’t imagine a situation I’d be more uncomfortable with at this moment.
“Um, I was going to ask how things went when you were living in the cities, you know, what was that like? I know you were in a band, but what else were you up to?” I turn and roll my eyes at myself. The cities?
“Oh.” He sounds disappointed. “I wanted to talk with you about it earlier—that first day at your shop. Like I said, it was hard. Not at all what I wanted.” My eyes flash to him again. Where is he going with this?
“What did you want?”
He pulses his hands up and down his thighs, leveling me with an intense stare, but then gently says, “What do you think I wanted, Rose? I wanted to be here with you. You were my world at fifteen. I would never have moved had it been up to me.”
My heart is pounding. An unwanted tear falls as I close my eyes.
Before I can help it, the words tumble out. Words I’ve been holding in since I was fifteen. Words I’ve imagined saying to him over and over.
“Why didn’t you call or text then? I was heartbroken. I cried for months after you left. Then my dad died. It was a big deal to me! Why? Why didn’t you reach out? Why didn’t you tell me what was going on? I get that the move was out of your control, but that wasn’t.” My voice gets louder and more confident with each word, and even though this wasn’t what I imagined, it feels good to say the words to him.
Tears stream down my cheeks now, and my breathing is ragged, but I don’t care. I’m already soaked and know I can’t look any better given the situation.
“Because it hurt too damn much!” Wes nearly shouts. Startled, I stand up and take a step back.
Quieter, he adds, “I felt like part of me died when we moved away. We had our fight and then I was gone. I wrongly thought you wouldn’t want to talk to me because of it, and I see now that it was stupid to think that way . . .” He pauses, before continuing. “It hurt too much to let you go.” His voice cracks and he looks at me through rain-drenched eyes. “I know that we were young, but I had our whole future planned. You were everything to me and being forced away from you like that, especially when we were already fighting . . . My whole life was just uprooted in the matter of a day and I didn’t know how to fix things.” Wes looks away, the rain dripping off of his chin, mixing with his own tears.
“I spent the first year in a depression. Barely talked to anyone. Didn’t make any friends at school. It was over a year before I reached out to Erick, and by then your dad had died and I felt like I failed you. My parents were both so worried about me that they sent me to a camp for a summer that they thought would help, but it didn’t. I was embarrassed.”
I stare at him in disbelief. That was not what I expected. I thought he would say he was busy, had moved on, didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but not this. What can I even say in response to that?