by Ginger Scott
Minutes pass without a word…without a breath. For a second, I swear Trevor is crying, but he’s fast to wipe the tears away. On instinct, I put my other hand on top of his, squeezing it. Trevor lets me, but only for a brief second before he pulls away and stands, turning away from me. I hear a few more sniffles, and then he goes back to packing his suitcase.
“Like I said, you can stay here…if you need to,” Trevor says, finishing up his packing, and zipping up his bag. I don’t respond, but instead slide the ring from my pocket, leave it on the bed, and back out of the room. I retreat to the kitchen for coffee. I sip on a cup for a few more minutes while Trevor finishes packing, and I hear him drag his bags through the front door. I watch from the window as he puts them in the trunk and gets in the car. Seconds later, he’s gone.
And I’m back to being alone.
All I can think about is Cody, finding him, and telling him everything—how Jim threatened me, why I tried to stay away. I have my only final exam tomorrow, and part of me hopes Cody will be at the study session. I know it’s where he should be, but I also know it’s not where his heart is—all of his attention is ten miles away with the last thing his father built.
I go anyway, full of hope. The room is packed, more so than on regular weekend study sessions, but I know the second I step foot in the room Cody isn’t here. I gravitate to the seat I sat in the first time I saw him. Habit, I guess, though I’ve only been here once or twice. Somehow I feel like being here, sitting there, is a connection to him.
I spend the first 30 minutes watching the clock and spreading out my books and papers, pretending to soak them in, though I’m really only staring at them until the words blur together.
I’ll be lucky to scrape by with a D on my final exam—and that’s fine. I’ll get a C overall, and that’s enough. I quit caring about my grades the second I got that phone call from Caroline, the moment I went eye-to-eye with Mac’s killer, the instant Cody’s tires sped away from me.
Without even thinking, I push the send button, and I realize I’ve been staring at my message to Cody all this time. I just sent it—like floating a feather in the wind and hoping it gets noticed.
I’m worried. I love you. Please talk to me.
The rest of the study session passes, and I learn nothing. Cody never returns my message either. I’m frantic by the time I get back to my car, and I toss my backpack into my backseat and speed down the highway—right to the driveway for his shop.
The Jake’s sign is gone, only an empty pole standing against the gray sky. The windows are all boarded, and the tires once chained to the side of the shop are gone. I drive all the way in, holding my breath. He has to be here; there’s nowhere else for him to go. This…this…is Cody’s home.
I see one of the bay doors open when I reach the building. Bolt cutters are on the ground in front, and the broken lock next to it. Cody’s truck is pulled in, and the door is only rolled halfway up.
I’m slow and quiet getting out of my car, not wanting to scare him. I wait outside the door for a few minutes, just listening. Gabe’s talking to him, asking him about tools, books and receipts, but I don’t hear Cody’s voice at first. I know he’s in there; I can hear the shuffling of at least two pairs of feet.
“Codes, I don’t know what any of this stuff is. Either you’re going to have to look at it, or we should just take it all,” Gabe says.
“We can’t take it all. Someone will notice,” Cody says, and his voice halts my breathing. I knew I would see him again, knew I would find him. But I still had doubt, and I was terrified that the last words he said to me would be it—all I would remember.
I’m on the verge of a panic attack standing feet away from him, around the corner. My mouth is watery, and my body is shaking. Despite the 30-degree temperature outside, I’m covered in sweat. I need to go in, but I can’t seem to get my feet to carry me.
With eyes closed, I breathe in deeply and grip the cement wall next to me and follow it around the corner, ducking just enough to clear the door. I can tell I’m inside—the voices sound different, and the floor beneath me is slick. The smell of oil is still in the air, and I know if I just keep my eyes closed, I’ll picture everything just as it was.
I open them anyway, though, and the reality slams me in the chest. The walls are bare, the cars are gone, and most of Cody’s boxes have disappeared. It’s devastating—his entire worth, his entire being, erased in a blink.
I can’t help the words that escape me softly. “Oh my god,” I squeak, covering my mouth with my hand, and flashing to Gabe and Cody. They both drop the books that are in their hands and turn to face me, startled at first. Gabe’s expression quickly changes—at first happy to see me and then nervous, his lips tight and his eyes shifting to Cody.
Cody’s body language is obvious. His arms fold in front of him, and his eyes look down at his feet, his jaw flexing with the gnashing of his teeth. He’s angry, but he’s also broken and lost. I recognize it—I’ve worn it.
“Charlie…” Cody starts, shaking his head from side-to-side, his eyes not moving from his feet. His shoulders fall, but he never picks his head up. “What are you doing here?”
It stabs my insides when he speaks. How could I be anywhere else? Why would he think this isn’t exactly where I want—where I need to be?
“I sent you a text,” I say, my lips dry, and my mouth sticky as I talk. “You...never wrote back.”
“Yeah, uh…I’ve been kinda busy?” he says, holding his hands out to the side, pointing to the ruins left around him.
“I want to help,” I say, taking a step forward. But Cody raises his head, and his eyes pierce me when they meet mine. He doesn’t want me here, and I can tell there are things he wants to say simmering under his surface.
“Just go home, Charlie,” he says, turning away from me.
“I don’t have one,” I shoot back, my voice breaking when I speak.
“Yeah, well…whose fault is that,” Cody says, his words making me wince. My eyes are stinging, and I’m barely holding on. Gabe smacks Cody on the arm, and I can see him mouth something to him, but Cody just shakes his head and continues pulling binders out of boxes on the work table.
“You’re not being fair. You don’t understand…” I start, my words coming out stronger this time.
Cody drops the binder back in the box and slaps his hands flat on the table before he turns around and walks at me deliberately, stopping only inches away from my face. His breath smells of whiskey, but he’s not drunk. His eyes are tired and heavy—the blue duller, and the whites red. I want to reach for him, but I know it will only make him run, so I keep my hands at my sides, running my fingers along the seams of my jeans, picking at the threads.
“Tell me what’s fair, Charlie. Tell me! Because I’d love to know! I’d love to know how you fall in love with someone, and then they sell you out to your goddamned enemy!” he says forcefully, pursing his lips and sucking in his top one like it’s the only thing preventing him from saying something more, something he’ll regret even more.
“It was Jim, Cody! Trevor found out, said it was his plan all along,” I start, but Cody interrupts me.
“Yeah, I’ve heard that…buying time, lining up his investor, blah blah. Trevor called me yesterday,” Cody says.
The news of Trevor’s call catches me off guard, and I squint, looking down, trying to understand how and when. And why he would talk to Trevor and not me. “Trevor called?” I say, my bravado gone.
“Yeah…Trevor called,” he says over his shoulder, going back to work and almost ignoring me completely.
Minutes go by, and Cody busies himself, never coming back to me, not as much as looking in my direction. I look at Gabe, who’s sitting with his feet dangling from the edge of the worktable. He shakes his head no and shrugs, not able to help. My stomach is twitching with nerves, and soon the frustration builds inside me to the point of explosion. I reach down and grab a wrench from one of the toolboxes and throw it at
the back wall with every bit of force in my body, in Cody’s view, and it leaves a dent in its wake.
“Fuck, Charlie!? What the hell?” Cody says, charging back over to me.
“You won’t listen!” I scream, reaching down and picking up a hammer. I tilt my arm, ready to throw, but Cody grips my elbow and works the tool from my hand. I jerk my arm away—even though all I want in this world is for him to leave his hand on me—and take several steps back, showing him how hurt I am.
“Fine, I’m listening,” he says, dropping the tool back in its box and folding his arms again, defensively.
“I saw Jim, Cody. The day after you and I…after the first time,” I half whisper, raising my eyebrows, aware that Gabe is hearing everything we say. “He knew. I don’t know how, but he knew. And he told me that if I broke it off with Trevor, that he’d do something…to you!”
Cody breathes slowly through his nose, his eyes holding me hostage. He’s chewing at the inside of his cheek, not blinking, but staring. I’m desperate to know what he’s thinking, to hear his voice again, to touch him, so I move toward him. But he only takes a step back and lowers his brow.
“You tell me this…now? You just thought you’d, what? Chance it? Or maybe you just didn’t give a shit if I lost the shop, just as long as you had a good time. Just as long as you had an out from your fake-ass relationship?” The words barely leave his mouth before I slap him, and I want to take it back the moment I do. But Cody is quick to move away.
“Cody, I’m sor…” I start.
“Just stop, Charlie,” he says, holding his hand flat in the air. “Just stop this thing you’re trying to do. There’s nothing here anymore.”
“But…I chose you, Cody! That’s why I was afraid…because of Jim. But I chose you—I chose you anyway,” I’m crying now.
Cody stares at me; the silence is smothering. “But you didn’t really give me a choice, did you? You chose for me, Charlie. You chose…for me.”
He smacks his hand flat against his chest as he speaks, just to punctuate the words—drive home his point. My heart burns, and I’m sure everything left inside me that was beautiful and good just died right here in Jake’s old garage. All I can see is Cody’s back as he walks away, his fingers threaded together behind his neck, and his knuckles cracking. I hear the office door slam shut, and as soon as he’s out of view, I break down completely, not even trying to temper the whimpers that are escaping my lips.
Gabe’s arms are around me within seconds, and I grip the fabric of his sweatshirt and bury my face under his chin.
“Girly…he didn’t mean it. He’s just torn up. He’s lost,” Gabe says, but I can’t get past what Cody said. I didn’t let him choose. And if I did, he wouldn’t have chosen me.
“Yes…yes, he did,” I say, holding on to that single percent of myself that still believes—Mac’s faint voice telling me to fight, telling me to battle.
Gabe pulls away from me, holding me on either shoulder and forcing me to look at him. “No, he didn’t,” he says, waiting until I nod in understanding. He pulls his phone from his pocket and dials, and I’m relieved to hear his conversation.
“Our girl needs a home. You okay with company?” he says, his mouth a half-smirk as he speaks, and his eyes locked on mine like he’s afraid to look away, afraid that I’ll fall apart if he does.
“Yeah, you got it. I’ll tell her,” he says, hanging up and tucking his phone into the back pocket of his jeans.
“Jessie says you have to pick up dinner. She’s not cooking,” he says, his smile soft and understanding. I’m stuck looking at him, stuck in this moment, even though I know staying will only make it worse. “Go on. He’ll be a’right. I’ve got him, Charlie. It’s my turn to take care of Cody, okay? I won’t fail—I promise.”
And I know he won’t. I pull my keys from my front pocket and shuffle back out into the cold to my car. I’m not sure if I’ve run stoplights or blown stop signs, I’m so distracted during my drive. I do manage to remember to pull through a drive-thru for burgers before I get to Jessie and Gabe’s house.
Their place is small, and it’s on a street tucked behind an industrial part of town. The train whistle is familiar; it reminds me of Mac’s house, and I stop to listen to it before I knock on the blue door of the tiny white house. Jessie welcomes me in, telling me to hurry before the food gets cold, and we eat in front of the TV.
She doesn’t waste any time when dinner’s done, unfolding the sofa and converting it to a bed, tossing flannel blankets on top and pulling a pillow from a small trunk that doubles as a coffee table.
“The train comes every hour. You get used to it,” she says, her lips tight in a flat smile. She’s purposely not talking about him, instead pretending this is normal, like it was part of our plan—something we would have done if Cody never existed. And I love her for it.
We shut the lights out by eight, and I know there’s no way Jessie is falling asleep. But she pretends. I lay awake for hours, counting the train six times before I hear the door slide open quietly and watch Gabe empty his pockets on the kitchen counter. He slips his sweatshirt over his head, drops it to the floor, and pulls his shoes from his feet to leave them by the door. He’s tiptoeing along the back of the sofa around me when I whisper.
“Thank you, Gabe,” I say. My thanks for far more than the pillow under my head, and he knows what I mean. He bends down and presses his lips on my forehead, pulling my blanket up on my body and tucking it along my back. His bedroom door closes seconds later.
The train whistles five more times before the sun rises, and I never shut my eyes.
Chapter 20: The Prettiest of Pictures
“Seriously, I don’t even know why you’re looking at apartments. You can stay with us next semester. We don’t mind,” Jessie says as she walks around the tiny apartment, the sixth one we’ve looked at today.
I don’t mind this one. The kitchen is nice, and it’s exactly halfway between school and my internship, which I plan to extend now that I’m no longer leaving for Washington.
“You and Gabe need your space,” I say, lifting one side of my mouth in a half grin. “Besides, the couch? Yeah, that’s shit to sleep on.”
Jessie laughs a little, and finally nods.
“Yeah, I know. But you’ve only been there for a week, and I’ve kinda gotten used to you…you know? Being, like…my roommate?” she’s kicking the floor while she talks, and it’s funny to see a girl whose wearing studs around her wrists turn shy.
“I know what you mean,” I smile back. “Hey, though…now you can come over here, especially when Gabe is driving you nuts!”
She laughs at that and heads back into the bedroom to look around a little more. I’m pretty settled on this place, and I know I can afford the rent on what’s left in my bank account and the small stipend I make at my internship.
We head to the front office and finish the lease agreement before lunch. Another perk to my new apartment is the proximity to three great restaurants. Jessie and I are trying out the deli today, but tonight Gabe’s coming over to help move a few things in that were left in my storage facility, and then we’ll splurge on the fancy Italian place.
I blow on my soup and sip at it slowly, keeping my gaze settled on my bowl. I know Jessie can tell I’m avoiding her—avoiding asking about him. I haven’t asked about him once in the last week, and she’s tried to talk to me about him every night. I always shut her down, but she’s got the advantage here—we’re in public, and my mouth is full of hot soup when she strikes.
“So he’s a fucking mess, you know?” she starts. She throws it out there—tempting bait—because she knows I’ll worry. She knows if I don’t ask now, it will gnaw away at me, and eventually I’ll come begging for details.
I’ve practiced this, prepared for this moment. This is where I pretend I don’t care, that I am unaffected and over him—or that I never loved him at all. Funny how the reality plays out so differently, though, because this tiny insight into Cody a
nd what he’s feeling has my heart burning a hole through my chest, it hurts so badly.
I fold my hands in my lap and just stare down at my thumbs. I hate that he’s hurting. I hate that I’m not there to help him with it. And I hate that I still love him after what he said.
“How bad?” I say, my eyes still staring into the steam rising from my bowl.
Jessie leans back in her seat and wipes her lips with her napkin, pushing her plate forward and folding her arms. She’s been waiting for this moment—an in.
“At his worst, and then worse than that,” she says, forcing my eyes up to hers. I’m expecting to see a hardened face—the angry one that comes to Cody’s defense. But I don’t. Instead, she looks worried, and she looks genuinely sorry for me.
“Where is he?” I ask, biting hard on my lower lip as I wait for her answer. I lie awake every night wondering if Cody’s near by, wondering if we’re listening to the same whistles of the train.
“He’s in Cleveland, staying with a friend of ours. His name’s Danny; we knew him from the tour,” she says, holding her breath, holding back more.
“Oh,” I say, moving my gaze back to my lap and reaching for my spoon.
“He knows you’re with us. That’s why…” she starts, but then she looks out the window, literally biting her tongue.
“Why what?” I ask, my voice a little louder now.
“That’s why he doesn’t come over. He’s afraid to see you,” she shrugs, then reaches for her pack of crackers and rips them open, crumbling them on the plate in front of her and picking at the pieces.
“Afraid to see me?” I say, my voice now drawing the attention of the older women sitting behind Jessie. I ignore their stares and whispers, and press on. “He says I didn’t give him a choice, Jessie, but he made his choice pretty fucking clear that night in Jake’s shop, and it’s obvious he blames me for everything that happened!”
Jessie stands up from our booth and throws twenty bucks down on the table, grabs her purse, and heads for the door, jerking her head forward and urging me to follow. Once we’re outside, she stops and props her foot up on a bike rack, tying a loose lace.
