by Rae, Kelsie
Dammit, Sway! Why’d you have to run? I curse in my head before pushing decline and sliding the phone back into my front pocket. My duffle firmly in hand, I wave the Uber driver goodbye after he pulls up to the curb then walk to security.
I refuse to admit that my eyes are scanning the strangers peppered throughout the vicinity as I place my bag on the x-ray machine belt, but I catch myself doing it more times than I can count. It only seems to heighten my anxiety.
However, when I reach the gate, my shoulders slump in defeat, and my fists clench around the letter she’d written and left on our hotel bed.
She’s not coming.
I screwed everything up.
Again.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sway
After abandoning Anthony on the ferry, I rushed to the hotel, packed my bag, scribbled a note that I couldn’t be more ashamed of, then escaped to the airport. Handing my credit card to the flight attendant, I requested the earliest flight to New Hampshire––damn the price––and was lucky enough to get a redeye.
I didn’t sleep a wink, but it didn’t matter. I was too afraid to close my eyes, anyway because a small part of me knew I’d only see Anthony’s hurt expression. It didn’t stop me from using other forms of torture, though. Like the pictures I’d collected of the both of us throughout our short…whatever we were.
Licking my lips, I grab my phone and turn it on, ignoring the texts and missed calls from Anthony as I dial my dad.
“Hey, Swayze Girl. Did you land safely?”
I nod before remembering that he can’t see me. Clearing my throat, I search for my happy voice, but it sounds forced. “Hey. Yeah.”
“Okay, I’ll swing around and come pick you up.”
“Thanks.” I laugh dryly when the sound that slips past my lips sounds like an eighty-year-old smoker instead of my own voice.
Minutes later, I slump into the passenger seat of my dad’s Subaru while hugging my duffle bag to my chest as if it’s my very own teddy bear.
Where’s Tobias when I need him?
* * *
“There a reason you had me pick you up instead of riding back with Anthony?” my dad probes as he merges the car onto the freeway.
I give him the side-eye because I was taught it’s impolite to say, “Duh!”
“Come on, Swayze Girl. Talk to me.”
Gah! If I had a nickel for every time someone said that to me this weekend, I’d be rich.
“Come on,” he repeats, using the same tone he does when the cats are being skittish.
“Anthony and I broke up.” There. I said it.
With his face pinched in concern, my dad glances my way before staring back at the road. Reaching forward, he turns off the radio, and I know I’m in for quite the conversation.
“I thought you and Anthony weren’t a couple. That you were just having fun.”
“So did I, but….” Our conversation echoes in my mind, bringing a fresh wave of tears with it.
“But what?” my dad pushes.
“But he wanted more.” My voice cracks on the last word.
“Oh, Swayze Girl.” He shakes his head, and I can’t tell if he’s disappointed in the situation, or at me in particular.
My hackles rise, replacing my overwhelming sadness with anger. “Don’t ‘Oh, Swayze Girl’ me, Dad. You don’t know what it’s like,” I bite out.
“No offense, Sway, but you’re the one who doesn’t know what it’s like. You’ve never been in love.”
“That’s debatable,” I mumble under my breath as I look out the window.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
He clears his throat. “Listen, if you love him then you know you’d do anything for him. That everything you thought mattered fades into the background, and the only thing you really care about is the other person and their happiness. Am I right?”
With a clenched jaw, I spit, “Of course, you’re right! Why do you think I let him go?”
“Stop punishing yourself right this minute, Sway. And stop making Anthony’s decisions for him. Do you think he’s happy right now? That he doesn’t love you enough to be with you no matter what? Through thick and thin?”
I lick my lips and give him a scathing look, but I don’t bother to respond as I pull my duffle bag a little closer to my chest and turn my attention back to the blurring trees outside. Yes. I’m pouting while praying he’ll drop this stupid conversation so I can move on and let Anthony go.
“You can’t have kids, Sway.” The bluntness in which he says it is like ripping off a damn Band-Aid.
My head swivels back to him, my mouth open in shock at his audacity. “Excuse me?”
“You can’t have kids. I know it sucks. I know it’s one of the hardest trials you’ll ever have to overcome, but you need to stop letting it hold you back. You need to stop using it as an excuse not to let people in.”
A tear trickles down my cheek, but I don’t bother to brush it away. Instead, it slowly rolls off my chin and lands on the duffle bag in my lap. I watch as the thick material soaks up the moisture, barely leaving a small blotch on the fabric as if my sadness is inconsequential.
“How dare you say that to me, Dad.” The hurt in my voice is louder than a siren.
“Someone needs to. Honey, that boy loves you. He wants you. Why won’t you give yourself to him?”
“Because I can’t give him everything he wants. You don’t understand.”
“Yes. I do. I love you and your sisters more than anything else in the world, but if your mama had come to me when we were dating and told me she couldn’t have kids, do you know what I would’ve said? I would’ve told her that it didn’t change the way I felt. That I would love her no matter what. In sickness and in health, Swayze Girl. That’s the promise I was willing to make when I asked her to marry me.”
“He hasn’t asked me that,” I argue, though it falls flat.
“Because you won’t let him get close enough to even consider it. You’re holding him––and everyone else––at arm’s length because you think you’re broken. But you’re not. You’re one of the strongest women I know. And one of the most selfless too. He’d be an idiot not to love every inch of you, and from what I can gather, he does. Have you told him about your past? Have you told him you can’t have kids?”
I don’t bother to answer because he already knows the truth. Tucking my hair behind my ear, I chew on my inner cheek and wait for him to continue, even though I’m dreading every word he might utter.
“That’s what I thought. So the pain he’s in right now? The pain you’re in? Not only is it unnecessary, but it isn’t fair to him. He doesn’t know why you’re scared, or why you’re pushing him away. And I’d bet my last dollar that he thinks it’s because he’s not good enough. That you don’t want him. It’s selfish to keep him in the dark, Swayze Girl. He’s a big boy, and he deserves to make his own choices…which includes letting him decide what he really wants in this life. And even if you’re not willing to pursue a relationship with him, which I think is ridiculous by the way, you owe him the truth. It’s the least you can do.”
My face feels hot as my dad reaches forward and turns the radio back on to fill the silence after getting off his soapbox. I know my dad. He might seem a little gruff or brash, but it always comes from a good place, and his words are usually right on the money.
And I guess that’s the part that really hurts. It’s that I know he’s right.
Chapter Thirty
Sway
By the time we pull up to my house, my eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, but my dad isn’t stupid enough to comment about it. My sisters, however, are a bunch of idiots.
“What the hell happened?” Skye shouts through the door as soon as my head is within view of the peephole.
The door swings open, and I see Saylor, her face painted with concern. She reaches for me, pulling me into a motherly hug. She is the oldest, after all. “Are you okay?”
; I shrug before dropping my bag in the entryway and reciprocating the hug.
My dad is a few steps behind me, but his long arms still find a way to pull me into his chest for a fatherly hug that turns into a Swayze sandwich with Saylor and my dad acting like the bread with me squished in the middle. Squeezing me tight, he mumbles, “Love you, Swayze Girl. I love every single thing about you, and that includes the little tidbits you see as flaws. But without them? You wouldn’t be you.” He drops a kiss to my pink hair before lifting his chin at his other daughters.
“Take care of her. I’ll see you guys for dinner next Sunday. And don’t forget to call your mama. She misses you guys and will be dying for an update.”
“Yes, Daddy,” Skye replies in a sickly sweet voice that’s so over the top it’s laughable.
“Kiss ass,” Saylor mutters.
My dad grins. “See ya, girls.”
Then he’s gone, leaving me with Saylor and Skye and my babies.
Speaking of which.
“Toby?” I call out as I walk further into the house in search of my comfort kitty. Hearing my voice, he comes running, and I find myself sitting right in the center of the hallway that leads to the family room, not giving a crap that I’m in the way of my sisters as he jumps onto my lap with a happy purr that tells me he’s glad I’m home.
Closing my eyes, I let his presence calm me while attempting to clear my chaotic thoughts that all revolve around a certain someone I’m missing more than ever. After a brief minute of silence, I peek behind my shoulder to see Saylor and Skye staring at me.
“How did everything go while I was gone?”
“Everything went fine here, but by the puffy face,” Skye wags her finger at me with her brows raised, “I’m going to assume the same doesn’t go for you?”
“Pretty crappy, actually. We broke up.”
“I thought you weren’t official?” Saylor asks.
“Don’t play dumb, Saylor. You’re a teacher. It doesn’t suit you,” Skye interjects. “We all know they were together. We all know they were madly in love. So what the hell happened?”
I roll my eyes. “I’ve already had this conversation with Dad. If you want the details, call Mama after she’s been given a recap from him. For now, I need ice cream and horror movies, stat.”
Saylor grimaces. “I don’t do horror movies. I can get my Star Wars on, though.”
“No deal. I’m the pathetic girl who just got dumped, so I get first pick.”
Popping out her hip, Skye gives me a look like she doesn’t believe me. “I call bullshit. There’s no way Anthony would’ve dumped you. I think you got scared and pushed him away.”
Saylor watches on the sidelines with intrigue dripping from her pores before she adds, “I agree. Sway’s got the stink of regret clinging to her. You dumped him. We’re going to give you tonight to hide away, but tomorrow, when he gets back, you’re going after him and groveling. Understand?”
With pinched brows, I mutter, “No comment. Just get me some freaking Ben & Jerry’s.”
They both grin. “Deal.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Anthony
I don’t bother going to work on Sunday. Because, why would I? The note was pretty damn clear. Plus, my hours are finished for community service. She’s already signed the paperwork. I was there because I wanted to be, and I felt needed. Now? The only thing I regret is that I didn’t officially adopt Jasper or Clover before I left, and now I have no idea how they’re doing, or if they need me. I know what it’s like to feel abandoned, and I hate the possibility that they’re feeling it with my absence too.
It’s getting late as I drive to the liquor store and purchase my weight in Fireball whiskey before going back to my tiny apartment and drinking straight from the bottle.
A third of the bottle in, I decide it’s a genius idea to hit up my ex for some insight.
Sober, I am not.
A snort escapes me as the voice of Yoda echoes through my skull. Sway’s sister would think I’m hilarious.
My fingers fumble as I dial Indie’s number from memory since I deleted it when she ran off with Rhett. After the third try, it finally connects.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Indie. Did ya miss me?”
There’s a pause before she replies, “Tony?”
“Ding, ding, ding!”
“Um, hi?”
“Hi. So how’s married laugh?” my voice slurs.
“Married laugh?”
“Life,” I correct myself. “How’s married life?”
Another pause. This one is longer than the last, and I pull my phone away from my ear to make sure we’re still connected. Yup.
“Is that why you’re calling, Tony? To ask about my married life?”
“Not really,” I admit as I scratch the back of my head. I need a haircut. It’s getting way too long. Maybe that’s why Sway didn’t want me. I was looking too shaggy. Like a dog or something. And since dogs are a cat’s nemesis and all, no wonder she hates me!
“Hey, how’s your dog?” I ask as memories of Indie and Rhett’s dog assault my pounding brain.
“Umm…he’s good. Are you okay, Tony? You sound….”
“Drunk?” I finish for her. “Yup. Very drunk. Very, very drunk. And bummed. I haven’t been bummed like this in forever, Indie.”
Her tone softens. “I’m so sorry, Tony. Why are you bummed?”
Laying back on the mattress, I look up at the ceiling as the room slowly starts to spin.
“Tony?” she repeats.
I close my eyes and concentrate. “I’m bummed because I’m unlovable.”
“That’s not true,” Indie argues. “Tony, I thought we’d moved past this.” Her voice goes softer and muffled as if she’s talking to someone on the other end, and I assume it’s Rhett, her husband. Wow. It’s weird to think of the term husband when it comes to Indie and not feel bad that it isn’t me.
Seconds later, she says into the speaker, “Honestly, I’m a little confused, Tony. Are you calling because of the wedding or something, and it stirred up old feelings?”
I laugh. Hard. In fact, it’s so hard that I find myself on the floor seconds later from rolling off the bed, clutching my stomach as the muscles burn from overuse.
When I finally catch my breath, I say, “No offense, Indie, but I never loved you like that. You were right. I can’t believe I’m saying that, but you really were. What we had? It was child’s play compared to the real deal, and I’m sorry that I didn’t see it.”
“Well, you sound like you’re experiencing it firsthand now,” she notes with hesitant curiosity.
“I was. And it sucks.”
“Was?”
“It’s over now.” I roll onto my side and start counting the dust bunnies under my bed. One, two, three––
“Why is it over? What happened?”
“She only wants me for my bod.” I laugh at the irony. “It’s kind of funny when I think about it. I mean, how many guys would kill to be in my position? No strings attached, hot as hell sex? And what did I do? I caught feelings. I’m such a joke. Why can’t I find someone to love me back? What’s wrong with me, Indie?” My laughter turns into a muted sob.
“Tony,” she sighs. “You’re not unlovable. In fact, you’re very lovable. Why do you think we stuck it out for as long as we did? I could see what a great guy you were. We just didn’t have that zing, ya know?”
“Boy, do I,” I mumble. I’ve felt the zing. I felt the zing so damn hard it knocked me on my ass and made me screw up the best thing that had ever happened to me. Stupid zing. I hate the zing. It’s like that damn vampire movie, Hotel Transylvania. Stupid movie. Stupid unrealistic expectations that set everyone up for failure.
I can’t believe I zinged. Threading my fingers through my shaggy dog hair, I tug on it harshly.
Indie’s feminine voice pulls me back from any further self-loathing. “But I don’t think a zing can be one-sided. Not when it’s the real deal.”
>
“Bullshit. You didn’t see the way she rejected me, Indie.”
“Did she tell you why she rejected you?” Indie prods.
I scoff. “Of course not. The girl is like a damn vault. You should’ve seen the way she clammed up. Hell, she makes our lack of communication skills seem like the freaking United Nations.”
My stupid joke brings Indie’s tinkling laughter through the speaker, and I find myself smiling in response. “You’re never this drunk, Tony. I haven’t seen the funny side of you in forever.”
“I’m not funny. I’m angry.”
“Angry you don’t have answers,” she clarifies. “Sounds to me like you need to try again. Even if it’s only for closure. I know you, Tony. You run from your problems instead of facing them head-on. This problem? Whatever is going on between you and your girl? You need to put your big boy pants on and confront her. But maybe do it when you’re sober this time.”
Again, I chuckle as memories of my white knight attempt with Indie flash through my brain. I was such a dumbass. How did I not recognize how terrible we were with each other? Indie was never meant for me. She was meant for Rhett. And me? I like to think I’m meant for Sway…the same way I know she’s meant for me. The only question now is, how the hell do I prove it to her?
“Thanks, Indie.”
“Anytime, Tony. Invite me to the wedding, okay?”
“Oh, like how you invited me to yours?” I return, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
She laughs. “Touché. But you can’t blame me for being a little hesitant. I mean, it was pretty fast.”
“I’ll say,” I mumble before adding a little louder, “Tell Rhett hi.”
“Oh, he’s right here,” she explains.
His baritone voice filters through the speaker. “Hey, dumbass. Did you go barreling through any doors this time?”
