Chapter 24
LEE
It took every bit of my strength not to ask her to stay. I watch her drive away and listen to her truck motor fade in the distance.
I hurt her.
I hurt her and that’s the last thing I wanted to do. My feet feel heavy as I cross the porch and let myself inside.
The first thing I see when I enter is a large bag sitting on the table with a bright red ribbon tied around it.
She left me a gift. I can’t bring myself to look at it yet.
Instead, I grab a bottle of whiskey, pour a glass, and take a large swallow.
The burn spreads through my chest, drawing a sharp line through me.
It doesn’t numb anything, not that I really expected it to.
Silver moving out is for the best, I tell myself.
It was always going to be a temporary situation until she could get her own place again.
She’s safe. There’s no reason for me to keep her close anymore, other than the emptiness that surrounds me without her nearby, and that’s not fair.
She deserves more. She deserves someone who can love her without restraint or guilt. She deserves to be happy.
I finish my drink and pour another. I knew from the moment I saw the blood in that car that I’d never allow myself to be with anyone again.
Never replace the woman who paid a price that wasn’t hers to pay.
For so long that decision didn’t matter because I knew I couldn’t love anyone again.
That part of me had died with her. It didn’t feel like any sort of sacrifice to be alone, but now, it settles as bitter in my stomach as the whiskey.
I died for loving you. Isla’s words from the nightmare play in my head. Are you happy? No, I’m not and I don’t deserve to be, not while she’s rotting in some unmarked grave.
Silver was smart to leave. The best thing she can do is forget about me and move on.
My feet carry me to the guest room as if by habit instead of conscious choice.
It smells like her. Her shampoo and lotion.
She’s taken all of her things, leaving the room looking forlorn.
A lone hair tie lays curled up and forgotten in the corner of the bathroom sink.
Without thought, I pick it up and take it with me as I wander out to the living room.
The house is too quiet. I rarely had the TV on before she came to stay, but I got used to it.
A flick of the remote button takes me back to one of the streaming sites, and I hit play on a random show.
I’m not interested in watching anything, but the noise is welcome.
I sit in the recliner where I always did before she was here.
It strikes me that I never sit in it anymore, choosing the couch to be near her instead.
Rogue is out running around somewhere but I’m sure she’ll be back soon.
I sit there mindlessly watching the screen, the wall, the lake through the window.
It’s black and calm. Snow begins to fall, and the house grows dark as the light fades from the sky.
I barely notice until I try to pour another glass by the glow of the TV.
Rogue comes running in, and the way she explores the house looking for Silver breaks my heart a little more.
“Just you and me again, girl,” I tell her, scratching behind her ears.
She needs to be fed which gets me to my feet.
After I fill her bowl and freshen her water, the sight of the gift on the table draws me in.
I slowly untie the ribbon and run my hand over the canvas bag.
The fabric is worn in places, softened by age and use, the color faded to a dull green.
When I loosen the ties that hold it shut, a familiar smell strikes me like a fist, a woody scent mixed with varnish and oil.
The realization of what it is hits me before I see the beautiful antique bamboo fishing rod almost identical to the one my grandfather had.
A card lies on top of it with a few words scrawled in Silver’s handwriting.
Bends but doesn’t break. Like you.
My chest tightens into a knot, and I read the short note again. And again. She didn’t just hunt down a pole like my grandfather’s, she remembered what he told me was great about it, about the lesson he used it to teach.
Maybe I’m not completely broken, but I’m bent too far to recover.
I pull out the rod to see the reel is already mounted.
The cane is a warm brown, stained darker at the nodes.
I run my thumb along the cork handle. It’s compressed where a hand or many hands have held it over the years.
The reel turns with a quiet hum when I test it.
Someone took care of this, loved it, and it shows.
I picture Silver looking through shops and online stores, searching until she found something close to the photo on my mantel. That hits me harder than anything else. The care in it. The love in it.
After looking over all the parts, I place the rod and reel back into the canvas and tie the cords. My phone beeps with a text message.
Silver
I’m here safe.
I’m shocked how much time has gone by since she left. My fingers hover over the phone screen. I want to tell her I was wrong. I want to tell her to come back. I want to spend the evening with her in my arms and the night with her in my bed.
I died for loving you. Are you happy?
Me
Good. I love the gift. Thank you. You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.
Silver
You aren’t trouble to me.
I sit heavily and drop my head into my hands. All I can do is breathe through the unbelievable ache of knowing I’m loved when I didn’t mean to be.
The days blur together over the next week even though I keep the alcohol to a minimum.
Instead, I occupy myself with projects and repairs that have been put off while I was busy.
I’m trying not to think. Not about Isla, or Silver, or my future that stretches out in front of me with nothing but days alone.
Anger keeps me moving as well. Anger at myself for failing Isla and even anger at Silver, unfair as it is. Because I’d grown used to a life alone, almost contented with it before she came along. Mostly, I’m just pissed at the whole goddamn world for the way things have to be.
Arlow calls to let me know Silver will be staying with them while she searches for a new house.
At least she’ll be okay. He tries to get me to spend Christmas with them but doesn’t push too hard.
He knows I never really celebrated it, and he was the same before Calli came along.
Silver texts to say Merry Christmas and I do the same.
Arlow texts to check on me and I tell him I’m fine.
The truth is I’m struggling. The nightmares don’t stop.
Every night I’m either carrying Silver through flames or trying to keep her from drowning while Isla laughs and asks, “Are you happy?” My mind has somehow turned Isla into a villain, and I hate that most of all.
That wasn’t her. She wouldn’t want to torment me.
Old thoughts start to seep in. How long do I really want to go on like this?
What’s the point of it? There’s no one counting on me to stay alive.
I know better than to indulge those thoughts, and I combat them by picturing Lacey’s smiling face.
I could never leave her with no family. I could never leave Silver or my friends with the guilt of wondering if they could’ve done something to keep me here.
The resentment I feel toward them about that is ridiculous. If they didn’t care so much, if they wouldn’t be hurt, I’d be free to escape the endless days. How can I mourn a life without love but also see their love as an obstacle?
Three days after Christmas, I send a text to Arlow.
Me
I need to borrow a hundred dollars.
Barely ten minutes later, I get a reply.
Arlow
Be there in an hour.
Words can’t describe how much I hate to admit that I’m having those self-destructive thoughts again. This is the longest it’s been since I’ve had to ask for that hundred back. It makes me want to kill that asshole and bury him in my woods again because he brought everything back.
I was okay. I’d healed enough to not think about Isla every day, to find some satisfaction in work and friends and Lacey. He peeled off the scab and poured alcohol in the wound. What’s harder to admit to myself is that it isn’t Isla that’s on my mind as much now as Silver.
I miss her.
Arlow shows up with a big backpack over his shoulder, a bunch of grocery bags in one hand and a case of beer in the other.
“Move your big ass out of the way. This stuff’s heavy,” he says, shouldering past me.
He sets the groceries on the counter, strides over to the guest room doorway to toss his backpack on the bed, then returns to the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he pulls out two steaks.
“Slumber party. I brought steaks and potatoes to throw on the grill.”
“That’s not necessary. I’m not that close to the edge. You don’t need to stay.”
“Okay, but Calli wants some bestie time with Silver, and I can’t argue after she’s helped host my family for two months, you know?
That would be a dick move.” He shoves the beer into the bottom of the refrigerator.
“So, we get some bestie time too.” He removes the folded hundred dollar bill from his wallet and hands it to me.
“We can go fishing tomorrow. It’s supposed to be sunny and warm.
Might be able to pull some bass if we take the boat out. ”
Every ounce of me wants to tell him no. It’s hard to be around people when I feel this way, but if anyone understands, it’s him. He’s been through his own hell and only recently came out the other side. “Fine, but this is not a bestie time slumber party.”
“Well, that means I brought my nail polish and moisturizing masks for nothing, but okay.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snort. “I’ll go start the grill.” While he gets the food ready, I get the grill going and build a bonfire in my firepit. It’s been a long time since we’ve hung out like this.
“Winter’s really struggling to show itself. That snow didn’t last a day. Almost January and we’re still swinging up near seventy degrees,” Arlow remarks.
“We got it bad enough last year with that shutdown storm.”
“True, we were due a mild one. Did you get that chimney fixed that you were working on?”
We spend the evening talking about shit that doesn’t matter. It isn’t until after we’ve eaten and had a few drinks that he says, “I know you said you solved your problem. Do you want to tell me what happened? Who was targeting you?”
I don’t hesitate to tell him. Arlow and I hold enough dirt on each other to put both of us away for life, but even without the safety of mutually assured destruction, Arlow’s a man who can be trusted. “Joss’s younger brother.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah.”
He leans down to pick up his beer. “Revenge I guess, but why was he trying to get you to kill the other guy?”
“No idea. We couldn’t find a link between them. Maybe he owed him money or drugs.”
His voice is soft as he approaches the subject. “But he didn’t really know where Isla is?”
“If he did, he took it to the grave with him.” He listens as I give him a run down of everything, including the home invasion, attempted drowning, and how close he came to shooting Justus. “I didn’t have a choice.”
Arlow looks me in the eye and nods his understanding. “I’m glad it’s over.”
We’re both quiet for a while, just watching the flames.
When I messaged him, I only wanted to keep the hundred dollar bill that’s given me something physical to hold onto in the past, and let him know I’m struggling, the way I once promised I would when we were both buried in grief.
I didn’t expect him to come and stay, but I’m glad he did.
It helps remind me there are things to stick around for, even though my life is going back to how it was before.
“What would you think of letting Calli know what’s happened? I won’t tell her anything you don’t want her to know, but it might help Silver if they could talk about what happened to her. If she doesn’t have to keep it all to herself.”
I should’ve thought of that. She was attacked and nearly drowned.
It has to be difficult to deal with that on her own now that she isn’t here.
“You can tell her.” I run my hands through my hair.
“I thought I could keep Silver safe here. I should’ve sent her to stay with you once things got bad. It was fucking selfish.”
Arlow sighs, stretching out his leg to prop his foot against a log.
“There was no right answer. That dress was delivered to her job. He may have followed her to my place once he knew you cared about her.” He looks over at me with a knowing expression.
“You love her. Of course you wanted to keep her close.”
I shake my head, not willing to get into my feelings for her.
“You don’t have to say it. I know you aren’t in a good place to talk about it. I’m just going to tell you one thing. Do you remember when I was fighting myself over loving Calli and you told me I hadn’t lost my chance?”
My glare doesn’t stop him from continuing.
“‘You haven’t lost your chance so don’t fuck it up,’ that’s what you told me.
There are no words for what you went through with Isla.
I know it’ll always haunt you, but she’s gone.
Take your time and get your head together.
” He leans forward and looks me in the eye.
“But you haven’t lost your chance so don’t fuck it up. ”