by JL Mac
“It’s complicated,” I murmur.
“Sweet girl, tell the man. Least that way he will understand that you have run from him because that was your idea of protecting him because as it sits, he just thinks you don’t want him.”
“I know,” I say resignedly.
Hours later save for the music coming from my laptop, the house is quiet and my hair still damp from the long shower I took where I tried to sort out my own thoughts. I swallow hard and stare down at my cellphone.
“Just do it,” I mumble to myself. I quickly go to my settings and unblock Sy’s phone number then type out a text message and hit the send button before I can back out.
Me: What are you listening to?
Several minutes pass and my phone remains silent. No response. I’d be lying if I claimed that fact didn’t make an ache the size of Texas spread out in every direction in my chest.
I toss my phone on my pillow and sit down at the foot of the bed. Feeling a growing sense of urgency to find Sy and talk to him, I grab the keys to my rental, which thank god isn’t a compact green roller skate. Slipping my index finger through the key ring, I twirl the keys around my finger.
I fire a text off to Bethany who is in Ellie’s old bedroom down the hall.
Me: It’s weird for me to drive by Sy’s house to see if he’s home, isn’t it?
Bethany: I mean… is it weird-ish? Yes. Is it Glenn Close, Fatal Attraction weird? No. Want me to go with?
With her text she includes a GIF of a dancing Chihuahua dog. I snort as I text back thanking her for her input but passing on the chaperone. I fire off a text to Momma letting her know that I am going for a drive. She simply sends back a thumbs up. Glancing at my clothes I shrug, happy to go as I am, in yoga pants, a tank top, and flats. It’s not like I plan to get out of my car.
The streets through Palmetto Grove are peaceful and quiet, even on a Saturday night. Most folks are already at home, tucked in for the night. The diners and boutiques and stores are closing for the night, flipping their lights off and turning their signage to closed. With my windows rolled down, I take the streets through town, soaking up the sights and the stillness. A sense of being at home comes over me that I haven’t felt in such a terribly long time. My smile is full and sincere and likely makes me look like a total lunatic given that tears are also collecting in my eyes. They’re happy tears though. My feelings toward my hometown have been a great obstacle for me. It has been very high on the priority list regarding issues I have been working through at my therapy sessions with Doctor Banker. She will be glad to hear that I am not crawling out of my own skin to escape the place I should love. Looking around, listening to the crickets, hearing the occasional car driving down the road, it does feel homey and safe. It feels welcoming and reminiscent of a simpler life.
This was Teddy’s beloved hometown where he painted it red as much as he could before he left for the Army. He loved Palmetto Grove and the folks in it. Ellie adores our hometown and the kids she teaches at the same elementary school my niece or nephew will probably attend. Those kids are the same kids at the church on Sunday and at the annual fair. This place is one big family and my hatred for one period in my life that traumatized me deeply, stained my view of this place and everyone in it. I hate that it has taken me this long to separate the two, to draw a clear line between that sort of ugliness and the beautiful community we have here. I could have been assaulted in any town, it just happened to be here and Palmetto Grove had nothing to do with it. But, in my mind, the whole place was a crime scene that made me break out in hives.
I may not be healed, and maybe I never will be but I am better and that has to count for something. It better, anyway. I have a brand new baby niece or nephew coming in a matter of weeks and I intend to be here every chance I get. If being a key figure in his or her life means I have to keep putting in the work to get over my past, then that is precisely what I am happy to do. I’ll keep working toward finding as much peace as possible. I will figure out what the new Rae and Sy looks like. Maybe we will be awkward around each other forever, but I hope not.
I hope we can… I don’t know what I hope for and a big part of me is afraid to hope for anything at all. Still, I am willing to make peace with Sy and figure out where we stand. Of course when I ran from him a year ago he warned me to not expect that I could just waltz back into town and into his life whenever I felt inclined to. I didn’t take that warning lightly. Still…
As I’m driving through town, taking street by street, mentally cataloguing the businesses that are new while admiring the ones that have been around my entire life, my cellphone buzzes in the cup holder of my rental car. I pull off the road and put the shifter in park to check my phone. I ignore the butterflies in my stomach.
S:- You wanna know what I’m listening to, you’re welcome to come to the bayou and find out.
You really wanna do that? Self-Preservation chimes in, uninvited and I cram her away, refusing to go the rabbit hole that is internal debate. The only answer I have for Self-Preservation is to do a U-turn in the center of town and aim myself toward the secret bayou behind the baseball fields and a mass of giant trees.
Like it is muscle memory, even I the dark I maneuver my rental car around the baseball complex and over the walking paths, around the edge of the tree line. The bayou comes into view, its surface mirroring the moonlight above. Sy’s truck is parked close to the water where I can see him standing on the bank. I park behind his truck and hop out suddenly regretting not wearing clothes suitable for public.
“Hey,” I say quietly as I ease up to where he is.
“Shush,” he says holding his finger to his lips with one hand while holding a fishing rod in the other. “Hear that?”
“I don’t hear anything,” I whisper.
“That’s cause I’m not listenin’ to music, Rae.”
“Oh. Right.” Suddenly nervous by his mood I back away ready to get in my car and leave. “Catch anything?” I ask mostly in a perfunctory way. Like, what the hell else do you ask someone that’s fishing?
“Nothing but that’s not why I’m fishing.”
“If you don’t want to catch anything then why are you fishing?”
“I fish to relieve stress, to think.”
“Right.” I nod to his back, looking around at the place that holds so many memories for both of us. I turn away from Sy and meander away, my eyes finding the old magnolia in the moonlight. I wander over to it and illuminate my cellphone screen to look at the trunk, nearly fearful that the old heart around our initials has somehow worn away like we did. Without turning to confirm his presence, I say the first thing that comes to mind.
“Remember when you carved this? You said well it’s there now so why don’t we see how it ages,” I mock his deep voice. “I guess it didn’t age too well did it?” I say quietly, tracing my fingertips over the old carving in the magnolia’s trunk.
“It’s endured some wear and tear, yeah,” he finally says on a sigh, sounding tired. I turn to face him. He’s beautiful here in the moonlight, the breeze off the bayou lifting his wavy brown hair off his forehead. “Been through some storms—more than we know I’m sure, but it’s still standing, still rooted, it’s still right here, though I don’t know exactly how,” he says looking me squarely in the eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt at the same moment he asks, “What happened?”
I look at him with a confused expression and shake my head. “With what?”
“Don’t play games with me, Rae. Aren’t we beyond that now? Your momma already summarized it for me but I am beginning to think maybe she’s just trying to spare my feelings while covering your ass. What happened?”
Oh.
“It’s all in the past. I’m over it.” I reply, but the tears gathering on my lashes do nothing to corroborate my story.
“Yeah you look it,” he deadpans. “Tell. Me,” he demands again, stepping closer to me. I attempt to back away but he snags me around the waist and h
auls me toward him.
“Look at me,” he orders.
“I—don’t…” I begin shakily.
“Tell me,” he insists. “Why’d I lose you?”
“You don’t want to know, and I don’t want to say,” I whimper shaking my head. “I know you think you want to know every little detail about what happened back then but Sy, I’ve spent years keeping it from you because it’s not pretty,” I warn. Sy’s features go from appearing irritated, even disgusted with me, to dread.
“Tell me. It’s bad. I know it’s gotta be bad. Just put me outta my misery, Rae.”
“That’s going to hurt.”
“I understand pain.”
“Yeah, well I do too, but I don’t think you’ll understand this. I don’t even understand it.”
“Try me. Please.” Minutes stretch out between us and I start to wonder if I should just run. Again.
“Please,” he repeats and the look on his face is crippling for me.
“I screwed up. I knew I did. I was so heartbroken when I broke up with you. For a whole week I cried myself into a coma. I realized I’d rather try to make it work with you no matter what than to be without you.” I press my palm to my chest, hoping my heart will stop racing.
“I went after… I—I went to talk to you a week after I ended it and I saw you with Brooklyn so I didn’t go through with it. I turned around and left. I got so mad and jealous.” I shake my head.
“You tried to come back to me?” He squints his eyes at me and his voice has softened. I nod and fight against the anxiety trying to unleash itself on me.
“And then—I—had to—work,” I go on between big gulps of air. “I was dumb—That night I went with a guy I knew—from work. I thought I wanted to get back at you. I just didn’t want to hurt. I was so stupid, and I didn’t want to go through with it after all and when things got out of hand, I asked him to stop—I begged and I tried to fight but—I—I couldn’t,” I whimper, even though I am trying my absolute best to tell him the truth as calmly as I can. Still, a torrent of tears begins pouring down my face. “He was too heavy and too drunk and he just wouldn’t stop,” I say, confessing my ugly truth that oozes the same misery I felt that night. “He got me pregnant,” I confess through a cracked voice. Sy gasps then wraps his arms around me and scoops me up in his arms, our bodies colliding violently. I cry in Sy’s shaking arms until I feel I can go on and tell the rest of the horrid story.
“I planned my abortion for my eighteenth birthday, alone. I hadn’t told a soul. I was afraid to. By the time I got to the clinic, I was torn about going through with it. It didn’t matter in the end, because the baby wasn’t there anymore. I felt like it knew I wished it away,” I hiccup as fresh tears trail down my face. “I couldn’t believe that had happened to me,” I sniffle. “I didn’t want to believe it or take responsibility for it. I wanted to blame everyone else. Including you.” My eyes feel as though they turn unseeing and dull. “I blamed myself and everyone else,” I say then finally stop talking to look up at Sy.
“You don’t want to say it or maybe you can’t,” he says, his voice breaking. “So I’ll say it for you. You blame me and every time my name comes across your mind or you lay eyes on my face you see his too,” he says so sadly that my heart breaks all over again. “And I don’t blame you one bit,” he adds, swallowing roughly.
“Sy, I did blame you back then,” I say feeling so ashamed. “I’ve been in therapy for a while and I’m making headway. I don’t blame you anymore. I don’t blame me anymore. I just want us back. I want you. I ran from you last time because Gene is right about my reputation harming BCF and I refuse to allow that, but I’ll honor our pact right now, if I’m still what you want. If we’re still what you want. Ask me again and I’ll say yes. I swear, we can try to figure out the rest,” I ramble on, pleading with him, searching his handsome face for cues. Tears of his own slip out of the corners of his eyes but he wipes them away fast. He sniffs then clears his throat as mine closes because I can feel the impact of his words before he even utters them.
“No.” Sy shakes his head with his lips pinched tightly together. “This is not what I wanted for you, for us. I’m so sorry, Rae,” he says on a whisper with his lips pressed to the top of my head. “Come on, I’ll follow you to make sure you get home okay,” he says, and I get the distinct feeling that for the very first time, Sylas Broussard doesn’t want to be near me at all, and he doesn’t want to be my Gabriel Oak. I can’t blame him. I said it all along and I tried warning him. I—we are tainted. Even so, I can’t seem to convince my heart to stop wanting him.
Chapter 33
Sylas
I didn’t want to believe Rae’s momma when she’d stressed to me the seriousness of the secret Rae was keeping from me, the one she swore Rae had kept from everyone, her included. Just as my mom had relayed to me.
I convinced myself that she was just trying to provide me with me something to blame for us not working out while at the same time giving Rae an excuse for the way she is. My gut knew something bad had happened. I saw the anxiety weighing her down. I saw the frayed nerves she walks around with. It was clear to me that she had some degree of PTSD. I saw that a mile off but never in a million fucking years would I have imagined… this. Maybe I didn’t want to think it could be as bad as it is. Maybe I thought Rae was untouchable. Maybe the idea of something so awful happening to someone then them going on to be so successful and outwardly strong, put together… that seemed unlikely at best. But it isn’t because that’s exactly the case with Rae.
Something unthinkable happened.
Some piece of shit, motherfucker put his hands on Rae—my Rae—and forced himself on her. Some sack of shit did unspeakable damage to her in every way and left a baby in her belly. He left her with the burden of having to make adult choices when she was just a teenager. She went through hell all alone.
And she was right to blame me.
Had I not enlisted in the Marine Corps, had I not assumed we would workout no matter what, had I not agreed to give goddamn Brooklyn Jones a ride home that day, Rae would have been left unscathed.
The minute she told me the truth, including that she had only taken off on me again because she worried how her affiliation with me may affect BCF, I had the urge to run away. I felt so fucking responsible and guilty and ashamed for not being there for her in the way she needs. She’s one hell of a woman that deserves the world and yet she’s in fucking DC alone and convinced that she should stay that way.
“Had I known,” I mutter. “Jesus, fuck, Snow.” The knot in my throat doubles in size and I attempt to wash it down with more beer. Worse still, she wants to make good on our deal, she’s willing to marry me and I knew right away I had to tell her no. None of that shit about last night is what I had pictured for Rae and I. When I close my eyes and try to picture my ring on Rae’s finger I only see her beautiful, crumpled, tear-stained face, her mesmerizing blue eyes turned dull under the weight of the miserable hell she’s been stuck in all alone for over a decade. My god. Rae.
My phone begins buzzing again and I silence it, not looking at the fifteenth text message Rae has sent to me, asking that we talk, asking that I think about what she said, asking that I don’t take responsibility for an event that very obviously was my fault. Pure fury, and the desire to murder and maim, grips me by the throat and I grab my phone, ignoring her texts only so I can ask one question.
Me: Who was he?
Snow: It doesn’t matter. Can we please talk? I replay the entire thing in my head, picking out clues. She worked with some guy that seemed like a loser with eyes for Rae. Was it him? What was that fucker’s name?
Me: Tell me who. You said it was someone at work. Was it that asshole James, Josh, John whatever his name was?
Snow: Don’t, Sy. He isn’t worth it. Hunting him down won’t change what happened.
Me: Kicking the shit out of him until he’s not moving anymore oughta make me feel a whole lot better though.
&n
bsp; Snow: Yeah well that makes one of you because the rest of the world gets to then visit you in prison and no one wins. Please.
Me: Fine.
Snow: Can we PLEASE talk?
Me: I’m sorry Rae, for everything. More than you’ll ever know. I need some time to process all of this. She doesn’t text message anything for a while after that and I hate it. I feel awful. My head is spinning and I just need a bit to process this revelation. Finally my phone buzzes in my hand with an incoming text message.
Snow: I understand.
I’m glad one of us does.
“So what are you going to do?” Chick asks from my couch with his fingers tapping away on his phone, likely to a new the woman of the week. Chick can’t hold down a relationship if his ass end was strapped on top of it. I season our steaks and flip them over, to season the other as I try to come up with an answer.
“I don’t know. Nothin?” I shrug, because I don’t truly know what the hell to say. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do from here on out when it comes to Rae. We have to get along, we need to move past the things in our history, but I don’t feel I can. It’s Rae and I’m me. I’ll always love Rae. Always. But I’ll always hate me for causing her so much pain. Always. So do I just avoid her? Take a page from her playbook and turn into a ghost? Would she hurt more or less if I vanished on her? Either way, it’s a moot point to even consider it because Doug and El want me to be their baby’s godfather and I have no doubt in my mind Rae is the godmother. So… will our interaction be limited to hollow how do you do’s at holidays, birthdays and the like? I guess. I don’t bother bombarding Chick with my inner thoughts because he’s not truly listening anyway judging by how closely he’s focused on whoever he’s texting. I sneak up behind him and look at the text.
“Bethany?” I ask, shocked but not.
“Fucker!” Chick throws a couch pillow at me. “Yeah, if you must nose into my business the answer is yeah, Bethany. She’s… interesting. I like her a lot.” Chick shrugs.
