by Kate Stacy
While everyone celebrates, I slip away quietly, finding a dark corner for me and my thoughts.
FOUR
Ryan
Cracking open a beer, I lean against the windowsill and look around the empty living room. I’ve spent more than a third of my life living in this house. If these walls could talk, they’d tell one hell of a story.
Memories. Betrayal. Secrets. Lies. Pain.
It wasn’t all bad.
But these walls don’t remind me of happy times. Not anymore.
Living here this past year has been unbearable. I think we’ve all come to terms with needing a fresh start. A new beginning. We need to leave this place and the constant reminders behind.
“That was the last of it. Locked up the truck…” Adam’s words drag me from my thoughts. “You ready for this, man?” He asks, noticing my mood.
“More than ready. Finally realizing I should have made this decision a lot sooner.”
“Yeah, well…” He pauses, running his fingers through his hair. “That’s partially on me. I just...I really hoped she’d come to her damn senses. Especially after mom...” He lets the sentence trail off, knowing he doesn’t need to finish it. We’ve had this conversation too many times already.
I fucking hate seeing my best friend look so worn down and defeated. I’m sure if I looked in the mirror, I wouldn’t look much better. It’s been one hell of a year. For all of us. I can only hope that moving to Blackwood is the right thing to do. I hope Adam gets the answers and closure he needs to move forward with his life. I know how it is to feel stuck, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, especially not the man I consider my brother.
Tired of staring at blank walls and bare floors, I move outside and sit on the top step of the porch. Adam’s not far behind. He drops down next to me, handing me another beer and opening his own.
“How long ‘til Hannah’s home?”
I pull my phone from my pocket to check the time. “Cannon should be bringing her home anytime now.”
“I wish he’d pack up and come with us. Won’t be the same without him.”
“That’ll never happen, not with the baby on the way. And you know that girl isn’t about to leave Florida.”
I shake my head and take a long pull from my bottle.
I don’t have to say a word. Neither of us can stand the girl Cannon is dating. Hell, Cannon doesn’t even like her that much and barely tolerates her on a good day, but he wants that baby more than anything. I’d bet money that she got knocked up intentionally because she knew he was gonna break up with her, and now she holds the baby over his head, using the pregnancy to get whatever she wants from him. I think deep down he knows, but he won’t take any risks, won’t do anything to piss her off.
Makes me wonder if all women are shady as fuck, or just the ones we seem to attract. And as usual, thinking about women makes me think about her.
Gorgeous.
Mystery girl.
The one I can’t forget.
I can’t lie. I fucking hate that I didn’t get her real name.
Waking up after that amazing night, I was disappointed to find her gone. No name, note, number...not a damn thing left behind except the scratches down my back and a long reel of visuals branded forever in my mind. It’s never been that fucking good. I remember every single second of that night. Even now, the smell of strawberries makes my dick hard. Not only do I regret not getting her name, I regret not getting to truly taste her.
I think about her far more often than I should, even though she’s the last thing I should be thinking about. My life is too complicated. I’ve got too much else to focus on right now. Moving to a new state. Starting over at a new station. Helping Hannah adjust to all the changes, ensuring she’s effectively dealing with all the ways life has let her down. I don’t have the luxury of fantasizing about a woman I may never see again. Then again, Blackwood is a small town.
“Damn. I really need to meet this girl.” Adam says.
I look over at him, brows furrowed.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Ry, come on man. How long have we been friends?” The asshole actually rolls his eyes at me. “You’re twisted up over that girl you hooked up with when you went up to North Carolina. You even get this dumbass lovesick look on your face whenever you think about her.”
Scrubbing my hand down my face, I sigh. “I shouldn’t have told you about that night, especially not about her. You’re never gonna let it go, are you?”
“Not a chance, brother. You shouldn’t either.” He laughs as he stands, clapping me on the back before disappearing through the screen door. “Besides,” he hollers through the house, “you know the deal...no secrets.”
I’m quiet, picking at the label on my beer when he rejoins me moments later. “Look, Ry. I already told you I think you should track this girl down once you get settled in up there. She obviously left a lasting impression. It’s been over a month and you still can’t get her out of your head. Maybe that means something.”
Maybe he’s right, but despite his reminder about the no secrets agreement, I’m not going to tell him that.
Forgetting about her is impossible. Believe me, I’ve tried. She was so fucking unexpected. I know it was only supposed to be one night, but there’s no denying I wanted more. I still want more.
Too bad we can’t always get what we want.
I’m not at a point in my life where I should be chasing down a girl I spent one night with, no matter how incredible it may have been. I should also consider the fact that she obviously doesn’t want to be found. She vanished without a trace, leaving me no way to get in touch with her. Her actions made it blatantly clear she wasn’t interested in anything more.
“It’s okay for you to move on, ya know.” He says, staring out into the yard. “It’s been a year now, and you know as well as I do...the Elena we knew and loved left long before that. She’s not coming back.”
Again, he’s probably right. But this has nothing to do with hoping, or even wanting her to come back. I tell him as much. “It’s not about that. At all. Part of me will always love her. I mean, how can I not? But I stopped being in love with her a long time ago.”
Elena is a difficult topic for all of us. When she walked away, she destroyed whatever was left of our relationship. More importantly, she destroyed our family. Even if she were to come back, I’m not sure forgiveness is possible. At least not from me. We’re only now starting to pick up whatever pieces we can. Moving to Blackwood is a chance for us to start over somewhere that doesn’t hold all these terrible memories, a chance to create a new beginning. One we need desperately.
Our conversation stops when we see Cannon’s Jeep turn the corner.
It isn’t one that Hannah needs to hear. Though she deserves it, I try not to badmouth Elena when Hannah’s around. I try to avoid talking about her at all. I’ve tried to protect Hannah, to shield her from unnecessary hurt. Unfortunately, none of us predicted Elena walking away, or any of the truths we uncovered after she was gone. I can’t believe I was so fucking blind, but my eyes are wide open now. I won’t let her toxicity touch Hannah. Never again.
FIVE
Camille
The bell over the top of the door rings.
Without looking away from the back of Kathy’s head, I open with the salon’s usual greeting, “Welcome to Stylus, do you have an appoint—” I glance up to see its Macy. “Oh, it’s only you.”
I turn my attention back to my client and Macy playfully scoffs.
“Damn. I thought you’d have a better greeting for your bestie, especially since I brought you lunch.” She holds up a bag from the diner down the street and wiggles it as she walks toward me. “Your favorite turkey club, with a side of fried green tomatoes.”
My stomach chooses that precise moment to growl.
“Well, would ya look at that, ladies!” I announce. “My favorite girl in the whole world de
cided to pay us a little visit! Everyone say ‘hello.’”
A round of laughter is followed by a chorus of greetings.
Everyone around here is used to our silly antics.
I’ve worked at Stylus since my junior year of high school, and Macy’s been coming in a couple times a week for lunch from the beginning. I started out as a receptionist, scheduling appointments and sweeping floors. Now, I practically run the place. Maybe one day I’ll have enough money to buy the business from Ginger, but until then, I’m perfectly content as a stylist. I worked hard to get to where I am, and I love my job.
“I’m almost done here,” I tell her. “I’ll meet you in the back in fifteen.”
She nods, hugs Ginger, and disappears through the door to the back rooms.
We’ve got all hands on deck today, but we’re booked solid. I’ve barely had time to squeeze in a bathroom break, let alone stop to eat, but I’m starving. I was running late this morning and skipped breakfast. If I don’t get something in my stomach soon, there’s no way I’ll make it through the rest of the day. I spent all morning fighting a headache and dizzy spells. Ginger was ready to send me home an hour after I got here, but I promised her I was fine to work. She’s been watching me closely, but I’ve already agreed to go see my doctor on my next day off if I still feel like this. Today isn’t the first day it’s happened, so I know she’s worried. Ginger is more than my boss. She’s family. She and Grams have been best friends practically their whole lives.
As soon as I’m finished with Kathy’s style, I take her payment, schedule her next appointment, and hurry to clean up my station. My next client isn’t here yet, so I’ve got a small window of time to work with.
“Ginger, I’ll be back in ten.” I tell her as I make my way to the back.
“Take at least fifteen, hon. I’ll get Betsy set up when she gets here.”
I know better than to argue, so I simply thank her and disappear through the door.
Stylus is more than a hair salon. We also do nails, waxes, and massages. I hustle down the back hallway, past the specialty rooms, straight into the break room. I’m barely through the door when Macy slides my food across the table.
Plopping my ass down in a chair, I inhale half of my club sandwich while Macy watches with wide-eyed fascination. My table manners are usually much better than this, but I’m too hungry to worry about being polite.
“Don’t judge me,” I say with a mouthful of food.
She reaches over, stealing one of my fried green tomatoes with a smirk.
“I’ll bite you. I swear I will. I haven’t eaten all day, I’m starving, and I don’t have a lot of time.”
“Someone’s hangry.”
Fried green tomatoes are one of my favorite foods, especially when they’re served with the sriracha mayo the diner makes in-house. Not the healthiest thing in the world, but we’re in the south, we’re all about comfort food. Pulling the tomatoes out of her reach, I grab one, dip it in the sauce, and take a huge bite. The second it touches my tongue, my stomach churns violently.
Without swallowing, I spring from the chair and take off down the hall. My knees barely hit the floor before everything I ate comes right back up.
In the back of my mind, I’m hoping we don’t have clients in any of the specialty rooms because I didn’t even close the bathroom door. I can’t focus too much on that though, I’m too busy retching into the toilet with tears streaming down my face.
“You okay, babe?” Macy asks, slipping into the room with me. She closes the door behind her before coming over to hold my hair back.
Shaking my head, I retch again. Once the convulsions stop, I catch my breath enough to speak. “The tomatoes are bad.”
“Uhh. Pretty sure the tomatoes aren’t the problem.”
I use the paper towel she hands me to wipe my face as I try to stand. A wave of dizziness washes over me and I drop back to the floor, hovering over the toilet bowl again. Just when I think I can’t possibly have anything left in my body to throw up, my stomach proves me wrong. Macy stays with me, rubbing my back and offering words of comfort. Not only is she my best friend, she’s a nurse, so it comes with the territory.
By the time I’m done, my throat is sore, the muscles in my abdomen strain like I spent an hour doing crunches, and my entire body is flushed.
Macy helps me stand and leads me back to the break room. Once she’s sure I’m comfortable in one of the chairs, she cleans up the food and tells me she’ll be back. She returns almost instantly with Ginger in tow. One look at me and she’s made her decision.
“Go home. Don’t come back until you’ve seen your doctor.”
“What about—”
“Girl, get your ass out of my salon. Your clients will understand. You need to take care of yourself before worrying about anyone else. Don’t make me call your grandmother.”
Knowing I don’t have a choice—no way do I want to deal with Grams—I nod and wait while Macy grabs my bag. Ginger gives me a quick hug and a promise to take care of my clients before disappearing back to the front. I walk with Macy to her car—since she refuses to let me drive—and slip into the passenger seat.
Feeling completely wrung out, I lean my head against the window, the cool glass providing slight relief for the warmth and pain in my head. Macy, thankfully, remains silent on the quick drive to my apartment.
I’ve never been more grateful for having a unit on the ground floor. I let us in the apartment, dropping my bag on the bench inside the front door. I make a beeline for the bathroom, needing to brush my teeth to rid my mouth of the horrible taste. Macy follows close behind, but it isn’t until she reaches in her purse and pulls out a long white box that I realize why.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“You’ve been feeling like crap for weeks.”
“There’s no way. I…” I trail off, shaking my head, protesting the possibility. “Do you just carry those damn things around in your purse?”
“Don’t try to change the subject. I had a feeling you might need them. Now, humor me,” she insists, shoving the box into my hands.
With a sigh, I turn away from her, shutting myself in the bathroom. Taking a deep breath, I lean against the door and look down at the box in my hands.
“It was the damn tomatoes,” I mutter to myself.
“It wasn’t the tomatoes, Camille!” she shouts through the door. “I ate one too and I’m perfectly fine!”
“Go away, Macy! Let me pee in peace.”
“Fine! I’ll be waiting in the kitchen with wine!”
I pull the door open. “Why wine?”
“Because one way or another, one of us will need it,” she says with an innocent lift of her shoulder as she walks away.
Closing the door again, I open the box, take out the folded paper, and read the instructions.
Twice.
I unwrap the foil package and pee on the stupid little stick.
Now I wait.
She’s wrong. She has to be.
I know the instructions said to set it on a flat surface, but I can’t bring myself to move. Holding the test in my hand, I stare as pink moves across the window, forming two little pink lines.
Fuck.
It’s wrong. It has to be wrong.
Dropping the test on the counter, I reach beside me and tear the other package from the box, open it and repeat the steps.
I manage to set it down on the counter this time and stare at the window.
I watch, waiting for different results.
Pink washes across the little window once more.
Two. Pink. Lines.
Double fuck.
This cannot be happening right now.
I pick up the tests, staring at them as if the results will change. I need the results to change.
I don’t know how long I sit there, but my mind stays in a fog until Macy knocks on the door. I don’t respond until she knocks again.
/>
“Cami, how’s it goin’ in there?”
“I...umm...I’ll be out in a minute.”
I stand, pull up my leggings, and quickly wash my hands. When I open the bathroom door, she’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest with a glass of wine in one hand, watching me expectantly.
“I’m pregnant.”
“Wow. Okay. I thought...well...shit.”
A laugh bubbles up from the bottom of my belly.
“I can’t believe this. We did everything right. I mean...I’m on birth control. He used a condom for fuck’s sake! How in the hell did this happen? I can’t be pregnant, Macy. I can’t. One time. I’ve had sex one fucking time in six and a half years and somehow, I end up pregnant through two forms of birth control! What the hell am I gonna do? I can’t have a baby by myself! Oh my God! What is my family gonna think? I don’t even know his name! They’re gonna be so disappointed in me. I...I—”
“Breathe, Cami.”
My rambling rant ends in a flood of tears when Macy wraps her arms around me.
She guides me to my living room, moving me to the sofa. I drop down, pulling my knees up in front of me. Macy goes to the kitchen, bringing back the bottle of wine she opened while I was in the bathroom. Sitting next to me, she pours more into the glass, filling it to the brim. Relaxing back, she looks over at me.
“I have questions. Lots of questions. Really important questions.”
I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say. Don’t know where to start. She knows me well enough to know this, so she doesn’t wait for a response from me.
“First off...one time in six and a half years? How is that possible? You’re the biggest flirt I know!”
My mouth opens, but no words come out. I take a breath and try again.
“Flirting isn’t sex, Mace. I’ve only had sex with one person, and that was in high school.”
There’s more to that particular story, but now isn’t the time to get into those details. In fact, it’s a secret I’d prefer to take to my grave. She doesn’t need to know. No one does.
