Year 28

by JL Mac

  “I wonder,” I say flipping on the light in my closet. It smells dusty and stuffy in my small childhood closet. I’m a little surprised to see mom hasn’t gotten rid of all this old junk. SAT study guides, cheerleading pom-poms, softball trophies, academic ribbons and yearbooks… and one old broken iPod Classic. I remember breaking it. Spider web cracks destroyed the screen, and I hated myself as soon as I had lashed out and shattered it. I flip the thing over and hold my breath seeing the thick black line drawn with a sharpie marker by Sy all those years ago—the same ink he had to regularly reapply as it wore away in our pockets and backpacks and the center console of my mustang and his jeep. On one side of the damned thing is my name drawn precisely and adorned with one heart and one flower and one squiggly doodle. On the other side of the line is his name drawn in bold, thick, capital letters and underlined with care.

  S Y L A S

  Ten years old…

  “My momma said since I’m older I have to walk you home and make sure you get in the house since your momma is at teacher conferences and your daddy is working over time.”

  “Sy you’re not even that much older than me,” I whine as though it makes perfect sense.

  “But I’m a boy,” he says back.

  “So?” I stop walking and fold my arms over my chest.

  “Just walk, Rae. It’s hot,” he complains. I grumble under my breath and resume walking beside him. I keep my eyes down on the road, kicking rocks and pebbles I come across and doing my best to ignore him like Teddy told me to. My big brother is smart so I do as he tells me.

  “Hey what’s that?” I mutter and run toward something shiny on the edge of the road where the bushy grass begins. I pick up the little rectangular object and flip it over then whoop loudly when I see what it is. “Ha! Look what it is!” I wave it out in front of me and Sy grins.

  “That’s an iPod.”

  “Oh man, I wanted one last Christmas but didn’t bother to ask. They’re expensive.”

  “Well now we have one,” Sy says proudly.

  “We? No way. This is mine. I found it.”

  “No. We came up to it together. It’s half mine too,” he says like he knows anything at all.

  “No way.”

  “Yep.”

  “I’ll just tell your momma that you are being mean and trying to claim my treasure.”

  “Yeah, you could probably lie to everyone else but you ain’t lyin’ to me, Rae,” he smirks folding his arms over his chest like he just won something.

  “I saw it first,” I growl.

  “How do you know I didn’t see it same time as you?”

  “I… well… I…” I stutter, trying to think of a good argument to shut him up. “Fine!” I snap and stomp my foot. “Only half yours, half the time.” Sy swings his backpack around to his front and digs out a black permanent marker. “What’re you doing?”

  “We’re makin’ a contract,” he announces snagging the iPod from me. I frown as I watch him draw a line down the backside of the iPod and then write his name in big letters. He finishes and hands me the marker and iPod. “Your turn.”

  I roll my eyes but enjoy taking my time drawing my name really pretty and adding a flower and a heart. If I make it extra girly maybe he won’t want to be caught dead with it!

  “Good, now let’s see what kind of music is on this thing,” he bosses, figuring out how to work the thing fast. It makes little clicking noises as he messes with it. “Battery is almost dead but we can find a charger for it I bet,” Sy says quietly with his eyes on the thing. I look over his shoulder watching him explore it. “Hey what’s that?”

  “Says notes,” he says before clicking on it.

  “To Rusty with a whole lot of love from your favorite blue and brown girl. Kitty,” he reads.

  “Aw man. Does this mean we have to find who it belongs to and give it back?” I pout.

  “I don’t know nobody named Rusty or Kitty in town. Do you?”

  “No,” I admit.

  “Well, I say we hold on to it and keep an eye out for the owners,” he nods.

  “Okay then,” I agree.

  “Check out all the music.” He grins. I smile too, not really minding all that much that I have to share the thing with him—just until we find someone named Rusty or Kit.

  Suddenly, surrounded by these things, I’m thrust back in time again and wading through an onslaught of memories. I’m a little girl with her first iPod full of oldies, a pubescent kid in junior high secretly drawn to her best friend, a naïve teenaged girl doing her best to figure out the world. My eyes scan over a small physical representation of my formative years prior to my great escape. It feels like a mausoleum in here, a silent tomb memorializing a dead girl. I say dead, because to me she is definitely dead. That girl—the one I had been, she died one evening over a decade ago and Sylas Broussard is her killer.

  If Sy is the killer, you were his accomplice, Regret declares with frostily.

  Before I can mentally linger any longer on the topic of dead girls I kneel down shoving random junk aside in search of what I came into this mausoleum for. “Yahtzee,” I whisper dusting off my old black and white Converse.

  Going down the stairs dressed for a night of bowling gives me the most intense sense of déjà vu. Racing memories crowd my mind, considering how many Thursday nights I skipped down these same stairs and headed off to spend the night with Sy and Chick and our group of friends.

  “Rae, honey,” Momma calls from the kitchen. I peek my head around the doorway.

  “I’m headed to hang out with Chick,” I explain.

  “Bowling I assume,” she declares, smiling.

  “Yes momma.”

  “Well when you get back, I’d like to discuss something with you,” she says. I scan her face for insight but she gives nothing away as she keeps at her cleaning up the kitchen the way I’ve seen her do a million times before.

  “We can talk now if you’d like,” I offer, walking fully into the kitchen where she’s wiping down the counters. I lean my hip against the breakfast bar and set my purse and keys down.

  “No, no. You go on and have fun catchin’ up with Chick. We can talk tomorrow,” she says then comes to me for a hug. “It’s so good to have you in this house again,” she whispers in my ear. “Now go on,” she says before she releases me.

  I smile and nod all while being fully aware that for the rest of the night I’ll be wondering what she needs to talk about.

  I park my rental and before I can even get out of the car, I hear the bass from the music inside thumping beyond its walls. I climb out and smooth my skinny jeans, peering down at my Converse while I run my fingertips over the silk blouse feeling doubtful of myself, which I freaking despise. I’m a successful, driven, accomplished woman. If high and mighty politicians can’t make me feel self-conscious, then stupid shoes and teenage hangouts shouldn’t either.

  I look slightly overdressed with the shirt and all but this is as good as it’s going to get. Someone opens the door to the bowling alley and for a moment the music spills out into the darkened parking lot. It’s enough to distract me from my thoughts. Before diving further down that rabbit hole, I lift my chin and march my ass toward the entrance. They renovated the place to add a real bar which is a welcome sight, but overall the place is exactly how I remember it. The scent, the sounds, the neon colors highlighted by the black lights hanging over each lane they switch on for Rock and Bowl Thursdays. I stand awkwardly at the mouth of the entrance looking left then right wondering where I might find Chick when strong arms band tightly around my midsection lifting me two feet off the ground and back against a hard, muscled chest. For a moment my mind drifts to Sylas, but Chick’s rumble of laughter makes me forget my nerves.

  “My god, you actually showed up,” he laughs setting me back to my feet and immediately grabbing my hand. He tugs me toward the small bar situated in the front right corner of the building. And slaps the counter. “Harry, two shots of Jack and another pitcher of
…” Chick swivels his head toward me questioningly.

  “Uh, pass on the whiskey but whatever beer you like is good with me,” I say with a shrug. He nods.

  “Tequila?” he asks. I consider it for a moment then shrug. Screw it.

  “Sure.”

  “Two shots of Patron and a pitcher of… Coors Light.” Harry goes about fulfilling our order and Chick beams a victorious smile at me.

  “What?” I laugh and take a surreptitious glance around us. A handful of people take curious glances my way but get back to their drinks and friends.

  “I just never thought I’d be in this bowling alley on a Rock and Bowl Thursday night with Raegan Potter again. Damn happy I am though,” he says, lightly bumping his shoulder into mine.

  “Yeah, I am too,” I admit just as Harry deposits two shots of tequila and a pitcher of beer in front of us.

  “Cheers!” He clinks his shot glass lightly against mine and we swallow down the fiery liquid. It snakes a path of warmth down to my stomach, unknotting tension on its way. I hiss through my teeth and blow out a breath. “Thanks for inviting me. I’m already tugging my hair out at the root at Momma’s house, so it’s nice to unwind with you tonight.” I smile genuinely at him.

  “You’re welcome, Rae. You’ve been gone a while but you’ll always be my friend and I will always be there for my friends. Always,” he says, throwing a heavy arm over my shoulders and tugging me close to his side with that signature dimpled grin on full display. “Now how about shot numero dos?” he whoops, gaining the attention of two scantily clad women at the end of the bar and I nod smiling.

  “All right, all right. This round is on me though.”

  Chapter 4

  Sylas

  I have just gotten back to town and I’m keeping myself as busy as possible. God knows I’ve got plenty on my mind and a pile of things to get done. My to-do list only seems to grow, never shrinking even when I cross things off at a steady pace. When I started BCF I knew the work would be tremendous but being a non profit, the work seems to be double. Being my non-profit the work is triple because I am determined to make my charity the best it can be in an effort to serve as many people as possible. They deserve it and I need it. Helping them is my therapy.

  As busy as I am, I can’t focus. Not with the possibility of seeing Raegan Potter weighing heavily on my mind. I try doing menial tasks instead of focusing on the big fish waiting to be fried. Doing mundane things is a whole hell of a lot better than stewing about Rae and her coming to town. I’m not sure when she gets in or if she’s even still coming. She could be down the road at her momma’s right this moment.

  My truck keys are burning a hole in my jeans pocket, but I don’t want to be that creep that drives by, looking to see who is there. I shouldn’t care if she’s there—I wish I didn’t—but it’s just not the case. I heard my mom and dad betting on whether she will actually follow through and make it to Ellie’s wedding. Mom has twenty bucks on her showing up. Dad doesn’t believe she’s going to… and me? Well, I don’t really know how I feel because I was once a Raegan Potter expert what feels like a forever ago. The woman she is today—the one I have seen on the news a bunch—is a fucking stranger. She’s rigid and frosty and lacks all charms and traces of being a girl from Palmetto Grove.

  I’m minding my business, rigging up new fishing tackle for my next trip down to the bay, tying careful knots in line when my cell begins vibrating in my jeans pocket. I glance at the screen and swipe to answer.

  “Yeah,” I say to Chick on the line.

  “You smell that?” he says sniffing exaggeratedly into the phone. I can hear the grin in his voice and loud music in the background telling me he must be out on the town—probably Rock and Bowl given it is Thursday and Chick’s habits didn’t change much since high school. Chick has that tone—the one that makes me think he’s the cat who caught the mouse.

  “What?” I put down the fishing reel I am re-stringing and lean back in my couch, snagging my beer off the end table as I go.

  “Smells like an IOU that you’re about to issue to yours truly,” he says sounding awful proud of himself.

  “And what in the hell could you possibly do for me that would possess me to owe you a damn thing you shithead?” I chuckle and take a long pull from my beer.

  “Two words, fucker. Raegan. Potter.” That gets my attention in a hurry.

  “What about her?” I lean forward in my seat, planting my feet like I’m ready to take off. For what, I haven’t the slightest idea. The fact that even the mention of her name has elicited this reaction from me not going unacknowledged.

  “She’s with me here at the bowling alley. She split for the bathroom so I figured I’d give my good old buddy a heads up that she’s back home and she’s on her third beer and second shot.”

  “Hmm,” I say considering how that makes me feel. I lean back again, propping my feet up on the coffee table and hum. “She’s in town,” I state more than ask. I take a moment to consider what I should do with this information. I could ignore it, tell him to have a nice night and that I’ll catch him later. I could march up there and drag her out by her hair and have a big fight, finally hashing things out after all these years so I can put Raegan out of my mind once and for all. Is that what I want? I’m not so sure. I could handle this situation either of those ways or…

  Or I could do something entirely different. A slow grin tilts my lips up and I come to a decision.

  “She up there with just you?”

  “Yep Kayleigh from work cancelled on me so it’s just Rae and me hangin’ out, havin’ drinks. Just like old times,” he says so fucking tickled with himself.

  “Do me a favor and make sure she earns a righteous hangover for her birthday tomorrow.”

  “You got it. I totally forgot it’s her birthday tomorrow.”

  “It’s an awfully special one too,” I add, still grinning like a loon. “If she’s hammered, don’t let her drive. She can pass out at your place.”

  “Of course.”

  “Oh and Chick?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Keep your paws off my girl,” I warn him, dead serious. He laughs at that.

  “I make no promises! I just had her in one hell of a hug and damn she’s curvy and soft in all the right places—” he hums appreciatively.

  “Hey asshole,” I growl through my teeth.

  “Buddy, we thought she was hot in high school but you should see the woman now,” he goes on and whistles. “The TV don’t do her justice, man.”

  “You tryin’ to test me Chick? ‘Cause you know I’m all too happy to kick your ass if that’s what the occasion calls for.”

  He laughs breathlessly for a stretch before gaining his composure. “Yeah, you still got it bad for Rae. I know. And sexy or not, I like my balls attached to my body. I ain’t touchin’ your woman,” he laughs.

  “Good and I mean it about the hangover. I want her feeling like hell tomorrow.”

  “Got it. She’s walkin’ back now. Gotta go,” he says swiftly then ends the call.

  I sit staring at the wall for a moment, hoping for some clarity on what to do now. I’m mad at her. I miss her. I could kill her. I wish I could have her. I get to my feet and go to the shelf on the far side of my living room. I pluck a familiar old book from the shelf and breath in the scent of the pages as I flip through them. Call me sentimental but I just can’t bring myself to toss out this worn copy of a book all about a man pining for a stubborn woman he can’t have. I smile thinking back on reading this book for the very first time in tenth grade for a class I only took because Rae was taking it too and it becomes clear to me.

  Whether Rae wants me or not, I want her. I never gave a shit about her shooting me down back then and I still don’t care. I have nothing to lose. Can’t lose something you don’t have in the first place. I’ll confront her, demand answers once and for all. I’ll remind her of the pact she made that I already know she won’t honor. That would be too easy and easy isn
’t in Rae’s vocabulary. I’ll do what I have always done best. I’ll bug her to death and burrow beneath her skin because I can and she allows it—or she did back then. I can’t be sure about the woman she is today but I damn sure plan to find out. Maybe I’ll get her exactly where I want her then I’ll ghost on her just like she ghosted on me a decade ago. Let her see how that feels, wondering what the hell went wrong.

  I open the browser on my phone and Google her name and click on the first image of her I see. The ink black hair I used to run my fingers through is glossy and done up like a movie star. Her familiar locks are styled in loose waves that hang just beyond her shoulders. She’s at some event of some sort and she’s dressed like a celebrity, every delicious looking curve molding the sapphire blue velvet dress to her body. Her lips are rose red and her eyes are the same vivid blue I’ve seen in my dreams countless times.

  “Fuck me,” I groan, pressing my palm to my chest hating that she’s so damn gorgeous, hating that she has such an effect on me. Even after everything. Even after a decade.

  And she’s supposed to be mine, but she isn’t.

  It makes the ache from her absence that much more acute. Unfortunately her rumored shitty personality does little to turn me off. Rae has always readily bared her teeth with me. If there is anyone on the planet immune to her sass and vacant threats, it’s me.

  She’s back.

  The breathtaking woman I swore I would marry one day is back in town, and I am itching to be the first person she sees bright and early in the morning. She ripped my fucking heart out and I’ve been hung up on her for the last decade. She’s going to hate life in the morning if I have any say about it. “Couldn’t happen to a nicer person,” I deadpan, talking to myself as stare at the picture of her on the screen of my cell phone.

  Chapter 5

  Raegan

  There are a few certainties about hanging out with Chick that I had totally forgotten. One, he’s a lady’s man. Two, he loves beer. Three, he also loves tequila. Four, he’s great at pressuring his peers into doing dumb things they really should refrain from. Five, he’s a lot of fun to spend time with.