Little Lies
Page 32
MY MOM, LACEY, Lovey, River, and Josiah leave for the airport midafternoon. Kodiak isn’t due back until later in the evening, so I sit in front of my sewing machine, unable to relax. We made a deal that he wouldn’t tell me where he was going until he got home. But he did message me a picture of his very neat signature written on a contract.
Which brings with it equal parts relief and terror.
Now I just have to prepare myself for what’s coming next, which is a lot of change for both of us.
It’s almost nine when he walks in the door, looking exhausted. He drops his bag on the floor and opens his arms. I’m wearing socks, so I skid across the slippery hardwood into his hard chest.
He folds me into his embrace. “I missed you so goddamn much.”
“Same.” I breathe him in—his cologne, the scent of his laundry detergent, stale airplane, and possibly some kind of pizza. His heart thunders, and mine matches the frantic rhythm.
He cups my face between his palms, tips my head back, and covers my mouth with his. I sink into the kiss for a few minutes, allowing myself the fantasy that this isn’t going to come to an end in a month, that every day he’s going to walk through that door and kiss me like this for the rest of our lives, that I won’t have to go weeks at a time without him.
Eventually I pull away. “You signed with a team.”
He nods. “For three years.”
My heart skips a few beats. That will feel like an eternity. “We’ll make it work.”
“We’ll have the off-season, and the flight to Chicago isn’t that long. We’ll be able—”
“I won’t be in Chicago.”
“Wait. What?” His brow furrows.
I swallow my fears. “While you were away, I got an offer from the production company. They want to keep me on.”
“Here? In New York?”
I nod. “I really love it, Kodiak. I love what I’m doing, and if you’re already going to be all the way across the country, it makes sense.” I run my hands over his chest, working to find some calm when my nerves are going haywire. “New York and Chicago are pretty close to the same distance from Vancouver.”
“I won’t be in Vancouver.” He sweeps a thumb across the hollow under my eye, wiping away a tear.
My heart stutters. “Where will you be?”
“Close.” A massive grin breaks across his face, popping the dimple that makes him look so boyish. “I signed with Philly.”
“Philadelphia? That’s really close.”
“Drivably close,” he agrees and lowers his voice to a whisper. “We’re gonna be okay, Lavender. We can make this work.”
I break down in tears, the relief overwhelming. “I was so scared you were going to be on the other side of the country.”
He wraps his arms around me and carries me over to the couch, arranging me so I’m settled in his lap. “I was fucking terrified.” He brushes my hair away from my face. “I didn’t want to be that far away from you.”
“Me either, but I couldn’t let you walk away from your dream.”
He nods, eyes soft and warm. He wraps me in his safe, strong embrace, dips his head and kisses me breathless. “Thank you for making sure I didn’t mess this up for us.”
“I love you too much to let something like distance break us, but I’ll admit, I’m so glad you won’t be far away.”
“Well, I’m always right here.” He draws a figure eight over my heart. “But I prefer when I can feel it beat for me.”
Eighteen months later
IT’S AFTER MIDNIGHT when I get home. And home isn’t Philly anymore. The planets aligned, and I was traded at the end of last season. But home isn’t a spot on a map for me anyway. It isn’t the two-story brownstone with a garden full of purple flowers in the summer and a door the color of my girlfriend’s name.
Home is the feeling I get when the plane touches down in New York City. It’s the spike of anxiety mixed with anticipation as I slide into the back seat of the cab, knowing with every passing mile, I’m that much closer to the one person who makes me feel whole.
Home is wherever Lavender happens to be.
And currently, she’s curled up on the couch, having fallen asleep while crocheting. Her brother Robbie’s girlfriend is due any day, and Lavender decided before I left for my away series that she was going to teach herself to crochet because so many cute things!
One of her favorite albums is playing, probably on repeat. She does that sometimes, plays the same album on an endless loop when she’s trying to concentrate. She says she stops hearing it, and it drowns out the noise in her head.
Based on the rainbow of bunnies populating the arm of the couch at her feet, the mission was a resounding success—either that or the crocheted bunnies have learned how to multiply on their own.
I take a moment to appreciate that Lavender is willing to deal with the insanity that is my life, and sometimes me. I love her so fiercely, it can be overwhelming at times—for both of us. But we’ve learned how to find our own version of balance. It isn’t always easy, and the long stretches during my away series test me more than they test Lavender, but we manage. She’s proven to be the stronger and more resilient of the two of us in that regard.
I pad back to the kitchen to gather the items I left on the counter, and I arrange them carefully on the end table before I kneel on the floor beside her.
Her lips are parted slightly, the scar from her childhood forever a reminder of the night that cemented our souls together. No matter how far away I am, I feel that connection, like a tripping switch, an invisible energy that only seems to grow stronger the longer we’re together.
I brush my thumb across her bottom lip, and she sighs, head turning in my direction. She swipes at her face with an uncoordinated hand, and when it connects with mine, she finds my pinkie and curls hers around it.
“Baby, you wakin’ up?” I kiss her temple and down her cheek.
She hums softly, and her palm comes to rest against the side of my neck. “Kodiak.”
“You talking to me in your sleep?” I hover over her mouth.
Her lips turn up. “I tried to stay awake.”
“You and the bunnies?”
“Mmm. Me and the bunnies.” She licks her lips. “I need a mint before you kiss me hello.”
“No, you don’t.” I slant my mouth over hers and part her lips with my tongue.
She makes a slight noise of protest that turns into a sweet moan. She tastes like watermelon Jolly Rancher, so she must not have been asleep all that long. We kiss until it’s clear Lavender wants it to become more. She kicks off the blanket and tries to shove my hand down the front of her sleep shorts.
“Not yet.” I smile against her lips. “I have something for you.”
“I’d rather have an orgasm than whatever it is.”
I chuckle. Lavender is always a little surly when she’s woken unexpectedly, and now is a perfect example of that.
“I promise you’ll get what you want after, but I have something special for you since it happens to be your birthday.” I pull back and tilt my head toward the end of the couch where helium balloons and a bottle of champagne are set up. “No more underage drinking for you. Gonna be hard to give up your badass, deviant ways.”
“If we lived in Canada, I’d have been legal for two years already.” She grabs the front of my shirt and tries to pull my mouth back to hers. “Thank you for the balloons and champagne. Let’s drink that after you’ve been inside me.”
“That’s not the present.” I kiss the end of her nose.
“I missed you,” she whispers huskily. “The sun isn’t as bright when you’re not here for it to shine on.”
“I missed you too.” I indulge her in a short, chaste kiss while I produce a small box from behind my back. “Happy twenty-first birthday, baby.” I shift so I’m on one knee and swallow my anxiety as I flip the box open.
Lavender shakes off the residual sleepiness and sits up in a rush. “Kodiak?”
She strokes my cheek gently. “It’s always been yours.”
“Bind your soul to mine.” I lift the ring from its satin box and slide it on her finger. The center is set with a pale purple diamond, and on either side are two diamond-encrusted infinity symbols.
“They’re already long bound, but I’ll marry you anyway.” Her smile softens as she takes my face between her palms. “It’s beautiful and perfect, and I love you more than is rational most days.”
“And I love you beyond comprehension.”
“So much we nearly broke us.”
Her kiss is my grace. Lavender is the keeper of my heart. She’s the only truth that matters.
THE END
A NOTE TO MY READERS
Thank you for coming on this journey with Lavender and Kodiak. For jumping in with both feet and making it to the end. I know it wasn’t easy, but this story came right from my heart and I couldn’t let these characters go until I reached their happily ever after.
Anxiety is such a beast.
One I’m familiar with. I couldn’t name it as a kid and didn’t understand why my heart would race, or I sometimes felt like my mind was spinning and I couldn’t get it to stop. I wanted off the roller coaster ride, but it was hard to escape when it was inside my own head. It took time, and a lot of practice, falling down and getting back up, but I learned how to live with the fears and worries and not let them rule me. Running and writing have been my best coping strategies.
I once had the very rare privilege of working with a young woman with paralyzing anxiety. She didn’t speak above a whisper when she was in public places, if at all. I was one of the few she talked to, but even I didn’t get to see her truly come out of her shell, and to this day it haunts me. Because I’ve seen what she’s like with the people she is most comfortable with and she was dy-namic and vital and amazing. But the world was just too overwhelming for her.
So when I wrote Lavender I put pieces of this young woman in her. The strong and resilient parts.
Anxiety is a monster and a weed. It can grow and become unruly and suffocating. But there are ways to cope.
If you’ve found yourself anxious this year in ways you haven’t before (you’re not alone), know there are resources and help available. There are places and people you can connect with.
You can tame the beast. It isn’t easy, but you can be a Lavender. You can find your voice and take control.
This story is for everyone out there who experiences life with overwhelming clarity. And still pushes through every day and makes the most of this beautiful, terrible world.
Much love,
~Helena
Anxiety and Mental Health Resources
Canadian Mental Health Association
Anxiety Canada
Anxiety and Depression Association of Amercia
Child Mind Institute
ABOUT THE AUTHOR HELENA HUNTING
NYT and USA Today bestselling author, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.
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