by Street, K.
I smiled. “If only you were younger.”
He grinned and strode from my room.
“Hey, Jase,” I called out.
He backtracked and stood in the doorway.
“Thanks for not freaking out.”
“You’re welcome. But you should probably never do that again, not until you’re at least eighteen.”
“Absolutely not. And we should definitely keep this between us.”
He winked. “Good idea.”
I closed my bedroom door, shutting myself inside the room, and then I sat down on my bed. My smile was as wide as the Grand Canyon even though I had made a fool of myself. I hoped, someday, when all the years between us ceased to matter, he’d see me as more than his best friend’s little sister.
“Socks!” Jase’s voice yanked me from my trip down memory lane. He took me in from the top of my head to my socked feet. He lifted his stare, meeting my eyes with a smirk on his face. “Look at you. It’s been a long time.” Strong arms wrapped me in a hug and then lifted me off my feet.
A whiff of his cologne filled my nose. I laughed at the ridiculous nickname he’d given me when I was barely a teen. I’d had a life-long obsession with socks—mismatched, colorful, fun prints or funny sayings, it didn’t matter. Some kids collected slap bracelets. I collected socks.
He set me back on the floor.
“Jase. How are you?”
“Good. Really good.”
I moved out of the way to let him inside. “Come on in. East is out back with Knox. Can I get you a beer?”
“Sure.”
I went back into the kitchen, and Jase fell in step behind me.
“What have you been up to?” I asked, opening the fridge. I retrieved two beers and passed one to him, meeting his gaze.
“Thanks.” He reached for the bottle opener on the counter and popped the cap from the bottle before passing the opener to me. “Little of this. Little of that.” He took a swig of his beer and then leaned back against the counter. “How are you?” His tone went soft then, revealing concern.
“I’m okay.”
“Say, I’m so sorry about Colin.”
“Thanks.” I lowered my eyes, extremely interested in the label on the beer bottle.
As if he could sense my discomfort, he changed the subject. “How do you like Maplewood Falls?”
“From what I’ve seen so far, I really like it here. It’s beautiful.”
Maplewood Falls resided in a valley between two peaks in the North Georgia Blue Ridge Mountains. Beautiful and quaint, embodying every quintessential small town in America.
Quiet fell between us.
The doorbell rang, and this time, I knew it had to be our parents.
“That’s probably Mom and Dad.”
“I’m gonna step out back and chat with your brother.”
Jase went one direction, and I went the other.
When I opened the door, I found our parents, Caroline and Brent Chadwick, on the other side.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, baby.” She pulled me into her arms. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She gave me a quick peck on the cheek and then stepped back to look at me.
I braced myself against her scrutinizing glare.
“Oh, honey, you’re thin as a waif.”
“And you exaggerate.” I forced a smile. “Knox is excited to see you.”
“Aww. I just love him. Where is my grandson anyway?”
“He’s outside with East.” The words were barely out of my mouth before she headed through the house and out the door that led to the backyard.
My father stepped inside and closed the door. His gaze roamed over me, inspecting me for wounds, and then he pulled me into an embrace.
Resting my head on my dad’s chest, I breathed in his cinnamon and coffee scent.
“You okay, Tater Tot?”
A lump rose in my throat. Something about being in my father’s arms made me feel like a little girl again. Protected and loved. Like I didn’t have to be strong because his shoulders had been built to carry the weight of the world. My dad had never worn a cape, but nevertheless, he remained my hero.
“I’m okay, Daddy.”
“It’s a good thing you never went into politics.”
“Why is that?”
His hands gently gripped my shoulders. “You’re a terrible liar.” He chuckled.
“I’m fine.”
“Not yet. But you will be.”
“You sound so sure.”
His large, warm palms cupped my cheeks. “Time doesn’t heal all wounds, but when enough of it passes, it gets easier to breathe. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Understand?”
I nodded.
Then, my dad planted a kiss on the crown of my head. “How about you grab your old man a beer?”
“All right.”
He kept his arm around me as we walked into the kitchen.
I slipped from his hold, took a beer from the fridge, and opened it before giving it to my father.
Like Easton, our father was tall. Though the two didn’t have the same build. Easton’s muscular frame was a result of time spent at the gym and performing demolition on his various renovation projects. Dad was lean, more athletic in stature. He’d been a runner for as long as I could remember. At sixty-two years old, his hair was more salt than pepper. Underneath the suit and tie he wore to work as a corporate tax attorney lived a jeans-and-polo kind of guy.
He and Mom would celebrate their thirty-fifth anniversary early next year. Even after all that time, the two of them were still madly in love with each other. That fact made me happy and sad at the same time.
“Thanks for the beer, Tater Tot. I should go make sure your brother has the grill under control. You know how that boy is with fire.” He winked at me, and we both laughed. Then, he went out the door.
Easton might be great with a pencil and a hammer, but combustibles were a different story. He’d once singed the hair off his forearms from lighting the gas grill when we were younger.
I plated the onion I had sliced earlier, washed and dried the green leaf lettuce, and cut a tomato. Next, I gathered the condiments and got out the cheese for the burgers. My hands were full when the back door opened.
“Need some help?” Mom asked.
I emptied everything I held onto the counter. “Do you want to take a platter outside for East? He’ll need one for the burgers and hot dogs.”
She walked over to one of the upper cabinets and opened it. Dishes clattered together as she slipped out the one she needed.
“You look tired, Saylor.”
“You’re thin as a waif.”
“You look tired.”
Her concern felt like criticism.
“Mom, I’m fine. Really.”
She clutched the dish to her chest and met my gaze. “I’m happy you’re closer. You know, you could have stayed with us. That big ol’ house is too quiet.”
I refrained from the strong urge to roll my eyes. Even though I was grown, my mama wouldn’t think twice about slapping me.
“Mom, we’ve been over this.”
“We would’ve loved to have you. That’s all I’m saying. I don’t know why you didn’t come home before.”
She means well, I reminded myself.
“How’s Knox adjusting?”
After a few beats and an internal debate, I decided to tell her the truth. “He hasn’t been sleeping very well.”
“It’s going to take time for him to adapt.”
My stare fell to the counter as a fresh wave of guilt crashed into me. “I couldn’t stay, but I didn’t think leaving it all behind would be so hard. Or how Knox would have such a hard time …” My voice trailed off.
“Oh, my sweet girl.” The platter made a clacking sound against the granite before my mother engulfed me in a hug.
I returned it, but I didn’t let myself linger in her arms because, if I did, the facade I had so carefully constructed would crumble.
; “We should get out there.” I eased from her embrace. “The boys are probably starving.”
“Aren’t they always?” she asked, only half-joking.
I slipped on my shoes by the back door and washed my hands.
Between the two of us, we managed to carry out the fixings for the burgers, the platter, and the buns.
“Mommy!” Knox barreled into my legs just as I set everything on the large patio table.
“Hey, little man. Are you hungry?” I turned to face him and knelt to his level.
He jumped up and down. “I wanna play ball.”
“Silly boy. You need to eat first. Do you want a hot dog?”
“Um … yes.”
“All right, let’s go inside and wash up.”
I stood and took Knox by the hand. “I’ll be right back,” I called over my shoulder as we went inside.
We made our way back to the kitchen just as Jase walked inside.
“You’re not leaving, are you? There’s plenty of food.”
Jase’s expression was unreadable as I waited for a response.
Six
Jase
I thought about Saylor’s question as I took her in, sadness beneath the surface of her baby-blue eyes.
Her blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail. Her makeup-free face showcased the smattering of freckles dusting her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She wore a heather-gray sweatshirt with Vols stamped across the chest in Tennessee orange. Dark skinny jeans fit her like a second skin and drew my eyes downward.
She had shoes on now, but peeking out from inside those rubber soles were the socks I’d seen earlier. They were green and gray with snails on them and had Snailed It printed above the toes.
While I didn’t have a foot fetish, I had always found Saylor’s sock obsession amusing. The fact that she hadn’t outgrown it amused me even more.
My mouth tipped into a grin. Before, when I’d held Saylor in my arms, I’d felt this hum of energy. A connection I couldn’t put into words.
“Jase? Yoo-hoo, Jase?”
The fact that Saylor had been speaking to me finally registered. “Sorry.”
“I asked if you wanted to stay. There’s plenty of food.”
“Thanks, but I should really get going. I just stopped by to go over a few things with East.”
My gaze traveled to the little boy who stood beside Saylor. I stepped closer, bent low, and stuck out my hand. “It was nice to meet you, Knox.”
He looked at my hand and then up to his mother.
“It’s okay,” she assured him.
Knox’s small palm slid into mine. “Nice to meet you.”
I released his hand and stood. “It’s good to see you, Socks.”
“Yeah. You, too.”
“Mommy, I wanna hot dog.”
Saylor smiled at her little boy. “One second.”
“It’s fine. You should go.” I stepped out of the way.
“Good idea. I hungry,” Knox said.
“I promise, you’re not going to starve.” She rolled her eyes at her son.
I smiled at them both, then fixed my eyes on Saylor. “Take care of yourself. I’ll see you around.”
“Bye, Jase.”
I walked out the door, got in my truck, and drove away.
Leaving had been the last thing I wanted to do, but I couldn’t stay. Not when all I wanted to do was get wrapped up in her.
Seven
Saylor
Dad and East were in the living room, watching a football game and keeping an eye on Knox, while Mom and I were on cleanup duty.
Mom’s back was to me as she loaded the dishwasher. “It was lovely to see Jase, wasn’t it?”
“Sure,” I agreed absently.
She dried her hands on a dish towel and then turned to face me. “It’s been nearly a year,” she stated softly.
The fork I was using to place the leftovers in a baggie halted midair.
Does she think I need to be reminded?
“Two hundred ninety-four days.” The words came out in a whisper, and I cleared my throat. “I know exactly how long it has been, Mom. Did you have a point?”
The prongs of the utensil stabbed into the last hot dog. I slipped it into the bag and dropped the silverware against the counter. The metal hit the surface with a clatter that echoed around us. I didn’t look at my mother as I zipped the plastic together and tossed it into the fridge.
“You can’t bring him back, baby.” The gentleness of her words did nothing to dull the pain they inflicted.
My hands clenched at my sides. Anger simmered just below my exterior as I turned to face her. “I know damn well I can’t bring him back, but I still wish to God with everything that I am, I could.”
“We loved Colin. He was a part of our family. I never meant to upset you. I just hate seeing you so sad and alone. I’m so sorry, honey.”
“No, Mom, I’m sorry. I’m sorry my husband died. I’m sorry my being sad is such a burden for you. But I am not alone. I have Knox.”
She crossed the space between us and attempted to draw me into a hug.
Barely restrained irritation made my body rigid.
Mom pulled back and rested her hands on my shoulders. “You know what I mean. You have so much life ahead of you. One day, your heart will heal, and you’ll be able to move on.”
Move on.
The phrase was rubbing alcohol poured into a gaping wound.
I took a step back and then another. Biting words burned the tip of my tongue. Before I could stop myself, the words spewed from my lips. “You think it’s that simple? That I can just move on, Mother? Grief doesn’t have an expiration date.”
“Saylor … I—”
“No!” I cut her off. “Your husband is in the next room.” My finger jabbed the air and tears stung my eyes. “You haven’t a single clue what it’s like to wake up and reach for someone who should be there but isn’t. You don’t call his cell just so you can hear his voice.” I swiped at my tears and then continued, “You don’t cry because you’re starting to forget the way he smelled or the sound of his laugh. Your heart doesn’t break for your little boy because he will never remember his daddy.”
Tears welled in my mother’s eyes. “Honey.”
I ignored the plea in her voice, the same way I ignored the snot dripping from my nose. “You have no idea what this is like, Mom. So, please don’t stand here and talk to me about finding love again or moving on!”
My words landed like a slap, snapping the air between us.
I was splayed wide open. Raw and bloody.
I grabbed a paper towel and wiped my face, and then I walked past her and into the living room.
Easton sat on the couch, with Knox on his lap. If he or Dad heard what transpired between Mom and me, they didn’t let on.
I opened my arms to my son. “It’s bath time, little man.”
Usually, it took some convincing, and I didn’t know if my tears were the reason or if he was tired, but he willingly came to me. He dropped his head onto my shoulder, and I breathed in his scent. A mixture of sweat, dirt, grass, and little boy.
He nuzzled into my neck. “Love you, Mommy.”
“Love you, little man,” I whispered against his ear, as I made my escape.
Knox’s arms around my neck were the only thing holding me together.
* * *
Our parents had left hours ago after my mom and I apologized to each other. It wouldn’t be the last time she pushed me, nor would it be the last time I pushed back. Our relationship just worked that way. Mom’s heart was in the right place. Still, I felt like the world’s worst daughter. The last thing I needed was her mothering me. Or voicing her opinion on something she couldn’t understand.
That’s the thing about grief. You can’t understand it, unless you have firsthand experience. Losing a parent or grandparent isn’t the same as losing a spouse. Losing a sibling isn’t the same as losing a child. Each loss is utterly devastating. One doesn’t hurt
more deeply than another. They’re just different.
Aside from the ambient noises, the house remained still.
Knox had fallen asleep, and as far as I knew, East had, too.
I, on the other hand, lay awake, staring into the darkness. I tried everything, but sleep wouldn’t come. First, I counted sheep. Then, I played several variations of the alphabet game before finally naming off all the US state capitals. Focusing my attention on nonsensical things seemed far better than allowing my mind to wander where it shouldn’t.
To a man who wasn’t my husband.
To the warmth that had bloomed in my belly when he hugged me. A simple hug that had lasted no more than a few seconds, but I still thought about it hours later. How good it had felt when he swept me into his strong arms and how his woodsy smell permeated my nose. I had forgotten what it felt like to be held by someone.
Guilt burrowed beneath my skin.
I love Colin. So, why am I thinking about Jase?
I rolled over onto my side, facing the window, a sense of betrayal twisting my gut.
Moonlight trickled through the parted slats of the wide white blinds.
I reached for Colin’s pillow—one of a handful of his things I had kept. I hugged it to my chest, burying my face in the billowy softness, and searched for his clean, soapy scent I knew I wouldn’t find.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I whispered the words to a ghost.
Instead of fighting the tears that brimmed my eyes, I gave in to them. Only by a fraction. Enough to relieve the pressure but not to assuage the pain.
The harder I tried to lock down my grief, the more my soul splintered. The inevitable breakdown would come eventually; it was only a matter of time. Despite that fact, I would try like hell to keep it at bay. Falling apart was a luxury I didn’t have.
Not yet.
Eight
Saylor
I pulled my SUV into the paved lot of Happy Hearts Preschool and killed the engine.
“Ready, little man?” I asked, glancing in the rearview mirror at Knox.
He stared out the window, taking in his surroundings.
