Love Me Like I Love You

by Willow Winters

  “Yeah,” I said. “Let’s start with the lasagna.”

  She laughed. “I thought I saw you eyeing that.”

  I held out my phone. “Put your number in my phone and I’ll text you. We can set something up for this week?”

  “Sounds good, Gunner.” She handed my phone back to me, and I fired off a text message so she could save my number.

  My fingers drummed on the steering wheel as the minutes ticked by, and I stared at the house I’d pulled in front of. A lamp was illuminating the front window, and the same lace curtains I remembered were drawn.

  A few minutes ago I’d caught sight of a shadowy figure moving through the living room. She was home. I just had to walk up the sagging porch steps and knock on the door.

  Declan’s window was dark, and only a small crack in the plaid curtains could be seen. I wondered if his room had changed at all and if the tacky-tack had lost its strength. Would his posters be on the floor? Still hanging? Would Ms. Young have changed his room?

  We’d left for the field party from here. His bed had been unmade, and the bottle of vodka we’d each taken a shot from had been hidden in a false-bottom drawer he’d made for his desk.

  Would that still be there?

  I ripped my gaze away from his window, taking one last breath before I opened the truck door and stepped out, closing it behind me, never breaking eye contact with the house I’d spent just as much time at as my own.

  The lawn was littered with leaves and a few pieces of trash. The garden Ms. Young had once been so proud of, and doted on as much as she did Declan, was nothing but dead branches and leaves now.

  The railing on the left side of the porch was missing a couple of spindles, and the paint on the doorframe was curling and peeling.

  Declan would hate this.

  If he was where he should be—with me, in the majors—his mom would be living in her dream house with a huge garden filled with flowers, vegetables, and fruit. She’d probably have a greenhouse for the plants that didn’t survive well in the Texas heat. It’d always been her dream to garden and be completely farm to table.

  When we’d come to Declan’s house after school, there hadn’t been pizza rolls or pop tarts waiting for us; there would be a veggie tray with homemade ranch dressing.

  I pressed down on the doorbell but didn’t hear any sound. No one moved toward the door. I looked at the bell; the glowing light behind the white center wasn’t there. It was just another thing that had been broken.

  I swear, Dec, I’ll make this right. Guilt consumed my gut, ravaging me from the inside out. I shouldn’t have waited so long to face my demons. And I had a long list of them. Stepping foot in this town and facing my best friend’s mom were just the top ones on the list.

  I bit back the curse that wanted to spill from my lips. No one knew I was here, and I’d been hiding out at the inn or Mom’s place since coming back to town. The friends I’d lost or left remained here. They were either in the cemetery with Declan or living here. And I hadn’t faced any of them.

  When tragedy strikes a group of people, the pieces don’t always fall back together and sometimes they no longer fit.

  All my regrets and mistakes were wrapped up in this town.

  I raised my fist to knock on the door, so I could start correcting them. One by one.

  The door creaked open and, for the first time in ten years, I stood facing my best friend’s mom. Her eyes were the same as his. I had to look away because looking directly at her brought back the image of his lifeless eyes.

  Dull blonde hair hung limply around her face. She was thin with deep, pronounced frown lines around her mouth. Her skin, which had been tan year round, because of how much time she spent in the sun, was pale.

  She was a shadow of her former self.

  “Gunner?” She choked, taking a step back as if I’d just shot her in the chest.

  “It’s been too long, Ms. Young. How’re you?”

  She launched herself at me, tucking her head in my neck. Her body heaved as she sobbed. I tightened my hold on her and whispered promises I hoped I could keep. Promises to her and to Declan.

  Chapter 9

  Delilah

  “You don’t need to call your parents again. You called right after we left, and we’ve only been gone for ten minutes,” Makenna said. The gold bracelets on her wrist jingled as she waved her hands in the air as she spoke. Makenna had been my best friend since I’d moved to Hawk Valley.

  “What if Shayla shows up?” I asked, running my thumb across the screen of my phone. The display lit up, showing off a picture of Tucker with my arms wrapped around him from behind. A smear of icing was dashed across my cheek, and my mouth was open in laughter. Tucker’s face was full of cake and icing; a huge glob of it hung from his chin. His bright green eyes and smile, with a missing front tooth, were the only parts of him visible through the mess. “I should go home.”

  “No.” Makenna parked her car and turned toward me, taking the phone from my hand before dropping it in the cupholder. My eyes stayed on the photo of Tuck and me until the screen went to sleep. “You don’t want Tuck to find out yet. Things need to stay normal. If you’re hovering over him, he’s going to start to be worried. And he’s with your parents. You know your parents would go scorched earth before they’d let anything harm a single hair on his head.”

  I nodded. She was right. Dad wasn’t a man to be messed with when it came to his family. He’d become his own one-person army if he thought there was a threat.

  I inhaled through my nose and let it out gently through my mouth. My hand lay on my chest, feeling the rise and fall of my breath. I nodded again. “Okay.”

  “Now, let’s go see what trouble we can raise.”

  Makenna swung her long legs out of the car. Her high-heeled boots crunched against the gravel lot. She was out and standing before I’d even removed my seatbelt. I unfolded from the car and walked around the hood to meet her. The Watering Hole’s neon blue sign blinked against the dark sky. There wasn’t much of a nightlife in Hawk Valley compared to Austin, but there was something for everyone. Thick cedar pillars held up the A-line tin roof. Music spilled from the large open windows and front door.

  Mark sat on his usual stool, taking admission. A button on his red-checkered shirt was perilously close to popping on his protruding belly. His black leather jacket fit snugly around his arms and back and had no hope of zipping in the front.

  He looked up from the phone in his hand when he heard heels crossing the parking lot. His brilliant white smile was highlighted by his bushy beard. I smiled back and held out my arms for a hug.

  “How you doin’, pretty girl? Colt is inside.”

  Makenna scoffed when she heard my brother’s name. They were like oil and water when together, and anyone in their path could be burned.

  “Hiya, handsome.” I kissed Mark’s cheek and held out a crisp ten-dollar bill.

  “You know your money is no good with me. Y’all are on the house, as always.”

  “One of these days, you’re going to take my money.”

  “Not a chance in hell.” He ran a hand through his beard. “Well, if you stop bringing me treats then we might need to have a talk.”

  His eyes cast down to the small purse hanging from my shoulder. Disappointment colored his features and I smiled. Makenna stepped forward and kissed his cheek. “You know she’d never forget about you. You’re our favorite. The only thing in that purse is something for you.”

  I opened the purse and emptied it. I pulled out a small cellophane bag packed with the cookies I’d made that week. Complete with a red bow, Mark’s favorite color, holding the cellophane closed.

  Makenna and I said goodbye and walked inside. She stepped around me, grabbed my hand, and led me up to the bar. I scanned the area, looking for my brother. I spotted him sitting on a barstool, a beer bottle tilted toward his lips as he watched Makenna strut across the wood floor, cracking leftover peanut shells under her heels. She wiggled he
r way into a spot a few barstools down from Colt, leaning over the bar and waving her hand for Dustin, the bartender.

  I tapped Makenna on the shoulder and signaled that I was going over to Colt for a minute. She nodded and faced forward, ignoring Colt’s penetrating gaze.

  “Hey.” I wrapped my arm around Foster’s neck. He was one of my brother’s best friends. He squeezed me so hard my shoes left the floor. When he put me back down, I turned to the other guy, Ridge. It was the same song and dance with him, a tight hug. Colt leaned forward and ruffled the top of my head, never having outgrown the annoying older brother phase.

  Ridge was like Colt and me, outsiders who’d come here as adults. Foster was born and raised in Hawk Valley, just like Makenna. Foster and Ridge worked at the fire station attached to the police station. Since Colt met them, they’d pretty much been inseparable.

  “Where’s Tuck?” Colt asked.

  “With Mom and Dad.” I ran my nervous palms over the front of my jeans and wiped away the sweat. I looked over my shoulder toward the door and started wondering all over again if I should leave.

  “Where he’s perfectly safe,” Makenna said as she walked up and handed my drink to me. She glared at Colt. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

  “She’s right,” Colt said, not taking his eyes off Makenna, who now refused to look at him.

  Foster hooked an arm around my neck and tugged me in close. I wrapped my arm around his waist and leaned my head against his chest. He kissed the top of my head. “We won’t let anything happen to your boy.”

  I twisted the toe of my boot over a peanut shell, watching it crumble to dust, and breathed slowly to bring my heart rate back down.

  “Holy shit,” Foster said. I looked up at him, but his eyes were on the entrance. His eyebrows were raised and his eyes wide as a slow smile spread across his face.

  “Oh my god,” Makenna whispered. She was also looking at the door, but her surprised face wasn’t breaking out in a happy smile; she was turning paler by the second. She brought her beer bottle to her lips with her shaking hand. She was blinking rapidly like she was brushing away tears from her eyes.

  I squeezed her hand between mine as I turned toward the door, wondering what had gotten her out of sorts. I scanned the area until I spotted the man who had been on my mind since I’d met him.

  Chapter 10

  Gunner

  The Watering Hole hadn’t been around when I’d lived here, not that I could’ve gone anyway. Sneaking into a bar with a fake ID was a lot harder in a town where everyone knew everyone.

  The man at the front tilted his head and ran his hand through his thick beard before pointing at me. “You’re Gunner Gentry.”

  I stuffed a hand into my pocket. Around here, knowing me wasn’t always related to baseball. “Yeah, I am.”

  “I caught you and that friend of yours on my back property shooting BB guns at beer cans.”

  I looked up and eyed him again. I can’t say I’d gotten a good look at the man that day while Declan and I were running away and he was chasing us, yelling.

  “Get off my property,” the man yelled as he stood from his barstool. “Recognize me now?”

  I laughed. “Yeah, it rings a bell.”

  “I was real sorry to hear your friend was one of the ones lost that night. Shook the whole damn town.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck and coughed. “Yeah, it did.”

  I’d buried as much of my past as I could. I didn’t talk about my burned arm in interviews. I stayed away from the topic and stayed as private as I could. That didn’t mean fans, reporters, and outfield hecklers didn’t find the information on their own, but I didn’t supply it.

  It was strange walking back into the town where it had all happened and everyone knew what I’d lost that night. What we’d all lost that night. It wasn’t only Declan who’d died. And it wasn’t only me who’d walked away with life-changing injuries. Even if someone had walked away without a burn on their skin, I didn’t think anyone could ever forget the screams, the smells. Every moment that I could remember, every hazy memory, was seared into my mind. Some I didn’t know if they were real or if I’d fabricated them.

  “Have a good night,” I said and strode into the bar. I stood in the front looking around for any face I’d recognize. It only took about a second before I saw Foster, and his face lit up as he saw me.

  This was why I’d chosen this place. I knew I needed to quit hiding and get out there, let some people know that I was back. If everything went my way, I’d be spending a lot more time in this town.

  A grin started to spread across my face but died when I saw the girl tucked under Foster’s arm. Shit. Were they together? Was that Tuck’s dad? I thought she was single.

  I regained the smile and started walking toward them, and the breath died in my throat as I met a pair of tear-filled eyes. Another mistake. Another sucker punch in the gut.

  Makenna. Declan’s longtime girlfriend. She was a part of him, a part I hadn’t been able to face. I’d thought she was cool and hadn’t minded when she hung out with Declan and me, but how did you face your best friend’s girlfriend when he was no longer breathing? How did you keep seeing her when the only thing that bound you together was gone?

  I searched for the hate, waiting for it to fill her eyes, but it wasn’t there. She should hate me. The only reason Dec was dead was because of me. He’d saved me and left her behind because of it. His death had affected more people than mine ever could have.

  That guilt had consumed me for years. And even now, ten years later, it only took seeing the two most important people in Declan’s life to know that it should’ve been me. He would’ve done far more good in this world. He was better in every fucking way.

  My boots were glued to the floor beneath my feet. I couldn’t move, only stare into the eyes of Makenna. She hadn’t broken eye contact either, but her tears were leaking down her face. A man came up behind her, looking concerned, and placed his hands on her shoulders. I wasn’t sure she even noticed he was there. He glared at me.

  I stepped forward. “Makenna,” I whispered.

  Makenna stepped out of the man’s arms and took the last few steps toward me. She stared at me and then tucked her head against my chest as her arms wound around my waist. I hugged her back and bent my head so I could quietly speak to her. “I’m so sorry. I…I’m just sorry for all of it.”

  She released me and wiped away the tears that had gathered underneath her eyes. “It’s been a long time, Gun. It’s good to see you.”

  I nodded and ran a hand through my hair, tugging on the ends. I was at a loss for words. I didn’t think the first person I’d run into would be Makenna.

  I turned to Foster and Delilah. He still had his arm around her shoulders. I gave her a tight smile and a simple nod before focusing on Foster. He released her and wrapped me in a crushing hug complete with a few backslaps.

  “It’s been too long, asshole.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, it has been. Way too long.”

  Foster released me and turned to stand by my side. “That big guy is Colt, he’s a sheriff’s deputy in town, but he wishes he was a firefighter, so he hangs around.”

  “Not even in your dreams would I switch to the other side,” the man grumbled. He’d been the one behind Makenna. He was still glaring at me.

  I stuck out my hand. “Gunner Gentry.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He eyed my hand for a moment before shaking it.

  Foster pointed to the only other person in the group I didn’t know, but he looked strangely familiar. He stood quietly in the background and kept his gaze turned away from mine. Until he finally looked at me. And recognition hit.

  The scent of burned flesh filled my nostrils, and flashing lights took over my vision. I could still feel the scratchy sheets of the gurney beneath me and the pain radiating through my entire body. I reached out the fist I could raise and grabbed the first firefighter that passed me. “Where is he?” My voice w
as raw, and each syllable felt like I was pushing a white-hot branding iron down my throat.

  “Who?” he asked.

  “Declan. Declan Young. He was with me. He’s dead. I saw it. Please tell me I’m wrong. Fuck. Tell me I’m wrong.” Tears washed through the ash on my cheeks.

  “I don’t know where he is. I wasn’t the one that pulled you out.” He looked over his shoulder and had a silent conversation with someone out of my field of vision. His entire body sagged a moment later.

  “I’m sorry,” he said when he faced me again. He grabbed my uninjured hand and held on tight as he looked me straight in the eye. I could see how sorry he was and how much this affected him. I felt his pain, with my own, swirling around me. It was too much.

  All of it was too much.

  I gritted my teeth and spoke through the pain that was consuming every inch of me. I felt inside out. “I have to be there when you tell his mom. I have to. I have to be there. Fuck. Makenna. Where’s Makenna?”

  An EMT started to roll my gurney away as I begged to be there when Declan’s mom found out. The firefighter held onto my hand as long as he could.

  And now, ten years later, he was standing in front of me. I hadn’t been the type of man to pray in a very long time. I believed in the baseball gods, the ones that took a scrappy underdog team and raised them to glory, defeating everyone in their path against all the odds. The ones that served justice when needed and the ones that could quiet an entire stadium during an impossible and magic moment. But right now, if there was a big man upstairs, he was having the time of his life giving me this night. He was cracking up. Declan was probably next to him, giving him ideas.

  I couldn’t help but glance at the ceiling for a split second.

  I knew this man remembered me, just as I remembered him.

  “Did you hear me, Gunner?” Foster asked.

  I shook my head to clear my thoughts and vicious memories. “No. Sorry, man.”