Thirty-Four
Saint
Noise filters in from outside, waking me from what has to be the most horrendous night of sleep. I roll off and stuff my head under my pillow, trying to block it out, but fail miserably.
With sleep no longer within reach, my mind starts replaying last night. It’s like the times when I get anxious and my thoughts loop over and over on specific moments that feel upsetting.
Things felt weird last night with Winter; she was acting off.
When Winter left to go back to her parents’ house, I was so worried about her.
I kept having vivid daydreams of something terrible happening to her on the drive home.
Maybe it’s the lingering effects of her dad’s recent accident or just knowing that on big holidays like this, people make poor choices.
I was relieved when I received the text message saying she had made it home safely, but I still wish she had stayed the night.
Deciding to move on from worrying about last night, I get in the shower.
When I’m out, I comb my hair, even though I know it will be in chaotic waves when it dries, and brush my teeth.
I debate shaving but ultimately decide the bit of stubble looks good.
I throw on my best pair of jeans and a button-up shirt that fits nicely.
I leave the room, determined to see Winnie even though that means waking up her sleeping brother for an excuse.
Everyone except for Winter stayed the night, so when I get to the living room, I see everyone still sleeping.
Reign is on the couch, and Ella Mae is on the floor right below with a pillow.
Everyone else is spread throughout the room, and it takes me a few minutes to meticulously work my way from one side of the room to the other, where I find Cypress sleeping with his head on a balled-up towel.
I shake his shoulder gently but impatiently when he doesn’t get up.
“Cypress,” I whisper-shout.
“Ehhhm,” he mumbles before trying to roll over, away from me.
I shake harder. “Cypress, get up.”
He turns to look at me over his shoulder, and the heated glare he sends my way would probably feel threatening if I were someone else, but I’m not the least bit intimidated by him.
“What?” he rasps.
“I told your mom I’d bring you home,” I shamelessly lie to him.
“Uhh,” he replies before sitting up. His black hair is sticking up in multiple directions.
Cypress is tired and clearly cranky, but he follows me as we head toward the door.
As we pass, Royal sits up, squinting at us. “Where are you going?” he whispers.
“I’m just running Cypress home. Go back to sleep.”
He flashes me a thumbs-up and lays his head back down as I shut the door and lock up.
The drive to the Evergreen house is quiet because Cypress fell asleep in the passenger seat before we even got off my street, but that’s fine. My mind feels like it’s too distracted to talk right now anyway.
When we pull up the long drive and I park, I hop out of the car without even bothering to wake up Cypress. My door slamming does it for me, and he groggily follows me up the porch ramp and into the house.
It strikes me as strange that the lights are off when we get inside, despite it being after ten in the morning, but the open curtain gives enough light for us to see their mom sitting with a cup of coffee.
Something about her slumped shoulders concerns me, so I walk over to say hi.
“Morning, Evaline,” I say and kiss her cheek.
“Saint,” she whispers with a smile. The smile looks forced, but she doesn’t outright say anything wrong.
“I’m just dropping off Cypress. He stayed overnight at my house. Have you seen Winter yet this morning? She got in kind of late, but I wanted to talk to her about something, but if she’s asleep, I’ll come back.”
The small smile she gave me quickly leaves her face, and her lips turn down into a frown. I’m trying to decide which part of what I said upset her.
“She’s gone,” she says.
“Oh, well, do you know when she’ll be back? I can swing by later.”
“No, Saint. She left.”
I’m still not fully comprehending what she means by that until she hands me a slip of paper that I didn’t notice her holding. It’s a note from Winter saying she went back to New York and apologizing for not saying goodbye.
I shake my head as I read it a second time. No. Nothing about this makes sense. Why would she leave without saying goodbye? And more pressing, when is she coming back?
Evaline goes on to tell me that she checked with the airlines, and the only flight they had today going to New York left at six this morning.
“Was it a direct flight or were there layovers?” I ask.
“It said it was direct.”
I pull my phone from my pocket to check the time. If there hadn’t been any delays, she should have either landed recently or been about to land. It’s about four hours to fly from the closest airport to New York City. I had looked into it multiple times in the past but always chickened out on going.
The next thing I consciously notice is that I’m back at my house.
I know I said something to Evaline, but I’m not sure what it was specifically.
I know I drove home, yet I don’t remember the drive.
I think I’m dealing with shock because I’m somehow functioning as if on autopilot but don’t feel like I’m present in the moment.
Another call goes to Winter’s voicemail as I unlock the door. I had previously hung up and called again when I reached the message box, but this time I leave a message.
“Win, it’s me.” I sigh, trying to control the waver in my voice. “Call me back. Please.” Then I hang up and go inside.
The house is quiet, but the light in the living room is on, so I go there, unsure if anyone is still here or if they’ve all gone home.
Royal is resting on the couch, drinking what smells like a cup of coffee, but other than him, I’m alone.
He greets me jovially but quickly his expression morphs to concern.
“What’s wrong?” he asks me, setting the cup down on the coffee table.
“When I took Cypress home, Evaline was very upset. Winter left.”
“What do you mean Winter left?” he asks.
“She flew back to New York. She didn’t say goodbye to anyone, not even her mother. She just left a note saying she was going home.”
I slump down onto the other side of the couch as he processes the news.
He quickly goes from befuddled to grim to angry. His face takes on a reddened tint before he reaches over and grabs my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, man,” he says, shaking his head.
I give him a questioning look, and at my quirked eyebrow, he replies, “You haven’t been as sneaky as you two seemed to think you were. We all figured it out weeks ago. We were just keeping our mouths shut until you were ready to tell us yourselves.”
My face falls. They all knew. That means they all will know that she left me. She left me, and she didn’t even tell me she was going.
His grip leaves my arm as he asks me the million-dollar question, “What are you going to do now?”
I shrug, pretending to think of my next move, but deep down, I already know I’ll be doing nothing.
I’m still sitting in the same seat, long after Royal gave me his goodbyes.
The house is quiet and empty. The strange part is that before Winter, the house was always empty, but now that feeling is so much worse.
Now I know what could have been and what will never be.
Now I know that I’ve lost the girl, twice.
There won’t be a third chance—that’s just not how life works.
Maybe it’s time for me to face the facts: Winter Evergreen was never going to be mine. Perhaps I was never enough to make her want to stay and build a life together.