Where Forever Ends: Maplewood Falls: Book One

by Street, K.

It was just after ten in the morning, and if I was going to people today, I needed to be caffeinated as soon as possible. I went into the kitchen, dropped the boots to the floor with a thud, and then plopped the bags along with my socks on the island before starting the coffee.

  While I waited for it to brew, I cleaned out the purse I was currently using. Receipts crumpled between my fingertips, and change rattled around the fabric lining the bottom. I discarded the trash and gathered the coins. I was transferring my keep pile to the hobo bag when I noticed a folded piece of paper inside an unzipped interior pocket.

  Curious, I reached for it.

  The page, creased and worn with age, crinkled as my fingers flattened it.

  Familiar script stared back at me, stealing my breath. The letters were uppercase, penned with meticulous precision. So many words, but it was the first three that caused my chest to ache.

  Behind tightly closed lids, I saw him.

  Warm olive skin. Square jaw, peppered with just a hint of dark stubble. Rich chocolate-brown eyes dancing with love and innuendo, the same way they always did whenever he said those three words.

  For three hundred fifty-six days, I’d survived.

  I waged war, never truly allowing myself to succumb to grief because Knox’s well-being was so much more important than mine. I tamped down my sadness and fought against my tears, only allowing them to fall when the strain of holding it all in became unbearable. Even then, I only let go just enough to release the pressure.

  But this …

  God. It’s too much.

  It hurts.

  There was no way to stop the tidal wave of agony that slammed into me with enough force to leave broken bones in its wake.

  “Colin.” His name was a trembling whisper on my lips.

  Good morning, sweetheart.

  Those three words.

  I heard them clearly. As if he were standing here in this very room with me.

  The husky sound of his voice was so real; it dropped me to my knees.

  A guttural wail ripped from my throat.

  For three hundred fifty-six days, I’d survived.

  On day three hundred fifty-seven, I wanted to die.

  Seventeen

  Jase

  Saylor’s SUV was parked in the driveway when I pulled in.

  I grabbed the box covered in dinosaur paper off the seat, opened my door, and stepped out of the cab. The package was heavy and looked as though it had been wrapped by a three-year-old. I doubted Knox would care, so I didn’t either.

  When I stepped onto the porch, I debated for a few seconds about leaving the gift by the front door. The thought was immediately abandoned when I heard a cry from inside the house. My hand went to the knob.

  The door was unlocked.

  “Saylor?” I called out as I stepped inside and shut the door.

  A keening wail caused the hair at my nape to rise. Shoving Knox’s gift aside, I moved toward the ungodly sound.

  “Saylor?” My tone was sharp and panicked.

  I rounded the corner into the kitchen and saw her on the floor.

  She was on her knees. Her head bowed. Long, silky blonde hair hanging like a curtain.

  I dropped to the hardwood beside her. “Socks! What’s wrong?” I scanned what I could see of her body, looking for blood, for some sign of injury, but I came up empty.

  Knox. Where is he?

  Alarm bells went off in my head. My gut twisted.

  Is he outside, alone?

  “Is it Knox? Is he hurt?”

  Her cries didn’t subside, but she vigorously shook her head. The motion caused her hair to swish from side to side, and that was when I noticed something in her hands.

  Fists clenched around a sheet of paper pressed against her chest.

  It looked like a note of some sort.

  And I knew. Whatever this was about had to do with Colin.

  Saylor was breaking right in front of me.

  No. That was wrong.

  She wasn’t breaking. She was already broken. Her soul bleeding out.

  I had to touch her. Comfort her. Something. Any-fucking-thing to make her tears stop.

  I shifted her hair out of the way, cupped her cheeks, and slowly lifted her head. Hot tears spilled down her face. The rough pads of my thumbs skimmed the tender skin beneath her eyes, collecting the salty wetness, but the more I wiped away her tears, the faster they came.

  “Tell me what’s wrong,” I pleaded.

  Bottomless pools of pain peered up at me, silently begging me to do something. I scooped her onto my lap and cradled her against my chest. Anguish racked her body. Tormented cries fell from her lips.

  She buried her face in the crook of my neck. I tightened my hold and gently rocked our bodies.

  “Shh,” I whispered. “Just breathe.”

  I didn’t force her to talk. She wouldn’t be able to get the words out. The only thing I could do was embrace her.

  We sat on the floor like that for a long time. My arms around her, holding her broken pieces together.

  The force of Saylor’s relentless sobs shook our bodies. Her tears soaked through the red-and-black flannel I wore and the T-shirt underneath it.

  My gaze moved to her bare feet. I ran my palm over the top of them, instantly realizing how cold they were despite how warmly she was dressed.

  “We’re going to go sit on the couch.” I slid one arm under her bent knees, so I could shift her off my lap to stand.

  Saylor wrapped her arms around my neck. The paper she still held crumpled in my ear.

  “J-J-Jase.”

  The desperation in her voice destroyed me as she clung to my body.

  I wanted my name on her lips to mean something, but I knew it didn’t. She needed an anchor, and I was here.

  Since she refused to let me put her down, I had no choice but to carry her. Given our awkward position, I needed her help.

  “It’s all right. I’ve got you. Just hold on, okay?”

  Her grip tightened.

  I used one arm to hold her against me and my other to push off with. It took some maneuvering, but I managed to get to my feet without dropping her.

  There was a pair of socks on the counter. I picked them up and balled them in my fist before adjusting Saylor in my arms and carrying her into the living room.

  After we were situated on the couch, I uncuffed her socks and grinned despite myself. They were soft and gray with pink frosted doughnuts on them. Glazed and Confused was printed on the sides. I slipped the socks on her feet. Then, I reached for the throw that was draped over the arm of the couch and tucked it around her.

  Saylor was still crying, but at least her sobs had subsided. How she had any tears left was beyond me.

  My cheek rested against the top of her head, and I breathed her in. I’d hold her as long as she needed me to, for as long as she’d let me. I didn’t care that I was going to miss my flight. I’d catch another one. Right now, all that mattered was Saylor. She was all I could see.

  Saylor cried herself to sleep in my arms. Her grip on the paper she’d been clutching loosened, and I set it on the table in front of the sofa. I was curious about what had sent her over the edge but not enough to invade her privacy.

  I held her for a long time, enjoying the way she curled into me. Granted, she had no control over her subconscious, but that didn’t stop me from trying like hell to memorize the feel of her in my arms. Maybe it made me an asshole or a glutton for punishment, but I didn’t give a damn.

  Just a few more minutes, and then I’ll let her go.

  I gently laid her down, careful not to wake her, and went to the bathroom. Then, I stepped onto the porch, leaving the door ajar so that I could hear her if she woke up. After I changed my flight, I called my parents.

  “Hello?” my mom answered.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Jase? Are you at the airport?”

  “About that. There’s been a slight change of plans.”

  “Jase Mich
ael Turner, please tell me you’re not about to break your mama’s heart.”

  “Relax, Mom. I’m coming. I’m just taking a later flight.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  I glanced over my shoulder, peering through the open crack at Saylor. Her back was to me, and she was tucked into a ball beneath the blanket. I moved away from the door, not wanting to risk the chance of waking her.

  “Everything’s fine. I’m flying out tomorrow night on the red-eye, so I won’t land until seven on Monday morning.”

  She was quiet for a beat. I didn’t have to see her face to know she was trying to figure out the things I wasn’t saying. “All right, I’ll let your dad know.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll use a car service or call a cab.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” she huffed.

  There was no use in arguing with her. “I’ll send Dad a text with my flight number and gate info.”

  “All right. And, Jase?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy. We’ll talk when you get here.”

  I chuckled. “See you Monday.”

  “Have a safe flight, honey. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  I hung up the phone, went inside, and quietly closed the door. Taking a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs, I scrolled through social media for a few minutes until Saylor stirred in her sleep.

  There was no way of knowing how she was going to react when she came to, so I moved to the end of the couch to be closer to her.

  It wasn’t long before her swollen eyelids fluttered open.

  “Jase.” Her voice was raw from all the screaming she’d done earlier.

  “What can I do?”

  Saylor pushed herself up. Her eyes shone with tears as she spoke, “The letter? Where is it?”

  “Right here.” I grabbed the note from the table and gave it to her.

  She took it from my hand without opening it. Instead, she cupped her palms around it and brought it to her chest. “Thank you.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.”

  “All right. I’ll be back in a second.” I’d bet money she was dehydrated, given how much she had cried, so I went into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. “Here.”

  She moved the letter to one hand and used her free one to take the glass. “Thank you.”

  Saylor took a few sips before glancing at me.

  I remembered the day we had gone to lunch. How she gave me time to tell her about Candace. Saylor waited me out. She hadn’t pushed.

  Now, it was my turn. I’d wait all day long if that was what it took.

  “I w-was—” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and started over. “I was switching purses, and I found a note.”

  “From Colin?” I knew the answer, but I asked her anyway.

  She set the glass on the table and wiped her eyes. “Sometimes, he’d leave them on the pillow or taped to the steering wheel of my car.” Her tears came faster. “I-I m-miss him.”

  She was breaking my fucking heart.

  “It h-hurts so much. I just want it to stop hurting.”

  I moved closer, wrapping her in a hug. One arm around her back and the other stroking her hair. “Let it go, Saylor. You don’t have to be the strong one. Not right now.”

  Eighteen

  Saylor

  “Let it go, Saylor. You don’t have to be the strong one. Not right now.”

  Jase’s words repeated in my mind. He was giving me permission to fall apart.

  My arms went around his neck, and what Jase said next opened the floodgates.

  “I won’t let you drown. I promise.”

  Before, I’d had to keep it together for Knox’s sake. Falling apart was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

  Until now.

  Until Jase.

  I let Colin’s letter fall onto the couch, fisted the material of Jase’s flannel shirt in my hands, and allowed the tears to quietly fall, giving myself over to the sorrow. Because Jase wasn’t going to let me drown. Earlier, my soul had shattered, but this was different. These tears were cathartic. They were acceptance. A journey through grief was a process, and I’d read somewhere that acceptance was the last stage.

  Is it though?

  Moving through loss wasn’t a designated path. It wasn’t an addiction to overcome. AA wouldn’t fix it. It had no twelve-step program. No chip or token showing how far you had come. Grief was infinite. Categorized in a Rolodex of bullshit stages. Sometimes, you went through all of them in the same day and circled back to the beginning.

  I didn’t know how much time had passed when I finally gathered myself and whispered, “Th-thank you,” next to his ear.

  “I’ll always be here for you,” he softly replied.

  I sighed heavily and pulled away. My raw skin burned as I wiped the tears from my face. For the first time since Jase had arrived, I wondered why he was here.

  I looked at him with a puzzled expression. “Easton’s in Atlanta.”

  “I know. I was on my way to the airport, but I wanted to drop off a gift for Knox before I left.”

  My hands went to my heart. “He really likes you, you know. This morning, Knox asked if you could come over to play basketball. It seems you’ve got quite the little fan.”

  “He’s a great kid, and the feeling is mutual.”

  “You didn’t need to get him a present.”

  He shrugged. “I wanted to.”

  “Thank you. For everything. I’m not sure what I would have done without you. I should let you go though. You’re going to miss your flight.”

  “It’s fine.”

  I dropped my gaze, not wanting to meet his eyes. I didn’t want to add guilt to all the other emotions running through me. “You already missed it, didn’t you?”

  “It’s fine,” he repeated. “I’m taking the red-eye to Seattle tomorrow night.”

  “Jase, I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, look at me.”

  But I couldn’t.

  Jase hooked a finger under my chin, lifting my eyes to meet his. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  The way he looked at me told me he meant it.

  As his hand fell away, he asked, “Are you hungry?”

  I wasn’t, not really, but I needed to eat something. “A little.” I tucked my hair behind my ears and sighed. “I have so much to do.”

  “Like what?”

  “I was planning to do some Christmas shopping since Knox is spending the night with my parents, and I need to get a tree.”

  Shopping was the last thing I wanted to do. The very thought of leaving the house turned my insides out.

  “Come on.”

  My eyes widened. “What do you mean, come on?”

  “We’re going to grab food, and then we can go shopping. I’ll even take you to get a tree.”

  “Jase—”

  “I’m not taking no for an answer, Socks,” he cut off my words.

  I stared at his outstretched hand.

  “Come on,” he pushed. “You don’t need to be alone, and I have nothing better to do. Christmas is in five days.”

  I laughed in spite of myself and put my hand in his. “Well, when you put it like that.”

  He pulled me to my feet.

  “Just let me wash my face.”

  “All right.”

  I stepped around Jase and grabbed Colin’s letter from the couch. “I’ll be right back,” I told him as I headed down the hall.

  I walked into my room and placed the folded note on my dresser without reading it. My heart couldn’t take any more of a beating. I’d read it later when I was alone.

  I crossed the hall to the bathroom and closed the door. After I blew my nose, I used the toilet and then washed my hands before braving a look at myself.

  Standing in front of the mirror, I took in my reflection and groaned. Bloodshot eyes stared back at me. My eyelids were red-r
immed and swollen. And my face was splotchy with bright pink welts along my cheekbones.

  I grabbed a washcloth from the linen closet, dipped it into the stream of water, and wrung it out. No amount of face-washing was going to erase all the ugly crying I had done. I pressed the cool, wet cloth against my sensitive skin and breathed deeply. My exhale came out as a stuttered sigh.

  When I exited the bathroom, I didn’t look any better than when I’d walked in. I didn’t bother with makeup because it wouldn’t help matters. Not to mention, my face literally hurt from all the crying I had done.

  My stomach was still knotted from emotional upheaval.

  I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. The last thing I wanted to do was venture out. I fought like hell not to succumb to the desire to crawl into bed, burrow beneath the covers, and hide from the world. But I had responsibilities. I had a little boy who expected a Christmas tree and a visit from Santa.

  And Jase.

  He’d gathered my broken pieces off the floor. He missed his flight and lost a day with his family to take care of me. Today, Jase had been the buoy that kept me from drowning.

  My thoughts turned to Colin. I opened my eyes and ran my right index fingertip over my left ring finger. Wherever Colin was, I knew with every part of me that he would hate that I was stuck. I was existing but not living. He’d want me to let him go.

  I blinked back the threat of fresh tears.

  “I’ll try,” I whispered the promise, hoping that Colin heard.

  Cabinets opened and closed. The sound drew my attention. I squared my shoulders and ambled toward the kitchen.

  The smell of coffee hit my nose when I walked in.

  Jase held out a to-go cup. “I wasn’t sure how long the coffee had been sitting, so I made a fresh pot. It’s black. I don’t know how you take it, but I left room for cream.”

  I offered him a soft smile. “Thank you.”

  I set the coffee on the counter, opened the fridge, and reached for the vanilla creamer. I poured some into my cup and then held it out to Jase.

  “No, thanks. Just black.”

  I closed the lid on the creamer and put it away.

  “Ready?” he asked.