by Lola StVil
Betty nods and smiles. I catch myself again and shake my head and force a laugh.
“That’s all in the past now. We were just kids then. He was probably just surprised to see me.”
“We were just kids too, remember, dear?” Betty says, nodding to William. She winks at me. “But yeah, he could have been surprised to see you in your own diner because clearly, he didn’t come here for that.”
“I have to get back to work,” I say.
Betty laughs.
“Good luck with that, dear,” she calls after me.
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit and fucking double dammit. Why couldn’t he have just stayed away? My stomach is in knots, and my head is spinning. How can he still have such an effect on me after all these years?
I try to tell myself it wasn’t him having that effect on me. I was just shocked to see him, that’s all. It doesn’t work. It’s him. He’s always had that effect on me, only back then, I welcomed it. It doesn’t matter what impact he has on me. My heart made that mistake once, and this time around, I’m keeping my head firmly in control.
I go back to the counter and pick up a plate with no idea where it’s going. I turn and crash into one of the waitresses. I drop the plate, and she drops one of the cups she was holding.
“Watch where you’re going,” I snap.
Her face falls. “I’m so sorry. I’ll clean it up right away,” she whispers.
“No,” I say, catching her arm as she tries to scuttle away. “I’m sorry. It was my fault, and I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I’ll clean it up.”
“We need a redo on table eight’s order,” Cassie shouts through to the kitchen.
She’s carrying a broom and dustpan, and she crouches down and begins to sweep up the mess. I crouch beside her, and the waitress sees her chance to move away.
“Go home, Grey,” Cassie says.
I shake my head.
“I’m okay.”
“Bullshit. Your head’s not in the game. I can finish up here and lock up for the night. Just go. I’m not offering again, so go while you can.”
Her tone is light, but she’s telling me what I need to hear. I’m of no use here, and I’m likely to just upset people. I’ve already managed to upset Jenny, the waitress I snapped at. I nod my head.
“I can feel a migraine starting, so yeah, maybe I should just go home. Will you tell Jenny I’m sorry again?”
Cassie nods, and I go through to my office and grab my purse. I leave out of the delivery door so none of the customers can see me leaving and feel the need to talk about it. The ones who notice will talk anyway, but at least I don’t have to risk hearing it.
I go home to my apartment above the diner and sit down on the couch. I don’t even turn on the TV or the radio. I just sit there, staring at the wall, trying not to think about Holden.
After a few minutes, I jump to my feet and start pacing the floor. I can’t just sit here wallowing. I need to get out. But where should I go? I can’t go back to the diner and face the gossips right now.
I know what I need. My best friend. Cannon will know what to say. He’ll be able to make me see this isn’t a big deal.
Oh, girl, who are you kidding?
Of course he won’t. He’ll make it out to be the world’s biggest drama, but he’ll make me laugh along the way, and I think that’s probably exactly what I need right now.
I grab my purse again and head out. I walk like a woman on a mission, fast, my head held high. I am not a fucking mess, I say over and over again in my head. If only I could make myself believe it.
I reach Cannon’s place. He lives in a small ground-floor apartment just off Main Street, and I tap my fingernails against his window as I pass by it on my way to the door. He buzzes me in without bothering with the intercom, which is usually broken anyway.
He opens his apartment door as I reach it.
“Girl, tell me everything,” he says, handing me a glass of wine excitedly.
“You know he’s back?” I ask, confused.
“Of course I know. I’ve been waiting for you,” he says in a theatrical tone.
Talk about ruining my moment.
“What the fuck? How do you know? And do you have to say ‘I’ve been waiting for you’ like that? It’s so creepy,” I say, taking the wine as I go in.
Cannon closes the door and follows me to the living room. I throw myself onto his small cream colored couch and pick up a throw pillow, clutching it to my chest.
“So many questions.” Cannon grins. “Yes, I have to use that voice. It’s not creepy, it’s ... mysterious.”
I roll my eyes.
“And I know because it’s a small town and people talk. You, my darling, are the talk of the town for sure. In fact, I bet there’s already a video on YouTube of the moment the bell rang, and people realized who waltzed through that door and locked eyes with you across the crowded diner …”
“Wait. What?” I say, my eyes opening wide in shock.
Cannon laughs at my reaction.
“Christ, Grey, I’m joking. I just knew you’d be at work, and I figured that’s how it went down. Judging by your reaction, I’m guessing I hit it right on the nose.”
I nod and cringe slightly.
“Spot-on,” I say. “And then he walked over to me, and I acted like I barely remember him.”
“Nice. He deserved it,” Cannon says with a sincerity I wish I felt. “So, I assume you need another drink of some kind?”
“Yes. Something stronger than this,” I say, handing him the empty wineglass.
“Is it a one, a two, or a three?” Cannon asks.
I can’t help but smile. I knew he’d make me smile, but I didn’t think he’d manage it this quickly.
I meet his eyes and try to keep a straight face as I let out the words.
“Code three.”
“Oh, girl, Charlie Sheen; Cannon is here for you. We will make this all better.”
Cannon’s disaster scale is an inside joke that’s been running for years between us. Whenever one of us is going through any kind of crisis, we scale the severity one to three. One is a boozy brunch, which is a relatively small disaster requiring a glass or two of wine. Two is a Friday night with the girls, which means a medium-sized disaster that a few shots and a daiquiri or two can fix, and three is a full-scale disaster of epic proportions, or a “Charlie Sheen” as we lovingly call it.
He breezes out of the room. I hear cupboard doors being opened, and various banging and clattering sounds. I hear the whizzing sound of a blender and the clinking of glasses, and I know instantly this is going to be messy.
Cannon comes back into the room with two glasses and a pitcher of margaritas. He hands a glass to me and fills it. I take a sip and wince.
“Wow, that’s strong,” I say. “How much tequila is in this thing?”
“A lot,” Cannon admits. “I asked myself what Charlie Sheen would do, so I tripled the booze, and here we are.
“Cheers,” he says, raising his glass. He nods to his cell phone as he sits down beside me.
“My dealer is on speed dial if you need anything else,” he adds.
I laugh and punch him playfully in the arm.
“Charlie Sheen would do it,” Cannon points out.
“I think my life is enough of a mess without taking my life advice from him,” I say.
“Fair point,” Cannon agrees.
He sips his drink and sucks in air through his teeth.
“It’s a killer alright,” he comments.
My mind wanders back to Holden, and I force myself to push away the image of him. How good he looked, how he has barely changed, and how hurt he looked when I brushed him off and pretended him being there didn’t affect me.
“You’re so lucky,” I sigh to Cannon. “Straight men are so fucking complicated, like one day they say they love you, the next they’re gone, and then they just walk back into your life like nothing ever happened. All the good ones are gay.”
&nb
sp; “You only think that because you don’t have to date them,” Cannon says. “Trust me, gay men can be bastards as well. The trick is not letting them get close enough to break your heart. Anyway, enough of this woe-is-me bullshit from you. Tell me the good stuff—is Holden as hot now as he was then?”
He wiggles his eyebrows as he says it, and despite the pain in my heart, I can’t help but laugh. I think about his question.
I think about how his black fitted T-shirt hugged his tight abs. I remember how his jaw clenched and his eyes clouded over when he saw me. I remember how my body heated up and my legs went weak, how I ached for his muscular hand to grab hold of me, for his mouth to claim mine. My nipples get hard, and my pussy gets wet.
“You know he looks good. He looks damn good,” I say, shaking my head while sipping my drink.
“He looks exactly how I imagined he would. The same as when he was here, but different. He lost that boyish look—his face looks aged, but not in a bad way. But his eyes haven’t changed. They still have that sparkle, that playful look that made me fall for him in the first place. Fucking hell, Cannon, why is he here? Why did he have to come back after all these years?”
“You know why he’s here,” Cannon gently points out. I look up and take a big gulp of my drink.
“His time in the military is up,” he finishes. “I heard he is going to be a surgeon.”
“Yeah, I get that, and I suppose he had to come back here until he found somewhere else to go, despite his dad. But why come looking for me? It’s taken me years to bury those feelings, and in seconds ... just seconds … he bulldozed that wall and brought them all flooding back. Why couldn’t he just stay away from me? I can’t do this again, Cannon. I just can’t. He left me, and he never looked back. Why would he do that? How could he do that?”
I can hear the whine in my voice, and it irritates me. I take another long drink of my cocktail to try to drown it all out. I realize my glass is empty and pour another.
“Easy, tiger.” Cannon grins. “Last time you drank margaritas, you decided to dance on my coffee table, and you fell off and busted my TV.”
“You needed a new one anyway; thanks to me you have a TV from this century.”
“True; so let’s not break this one. I had a hard enough time explaining that to the hospital.”
“Is this a Charlie Sheen or not, Mom?” I snap a little more harshly than I would have liked. “You made it,” I point out.
He nods and grins. “I know. I wasn’t quick enough to get the last show on video … well, the good part anyway. I won’t make that mistake twice.” He winks.
I laugh and shake my head.
“You’re not supposed to be enjoying my misery,” I point out. “You’re supposed to be helping me to figure this shit out.”
“There’s only one person who can give you answers, Grey. Well, the ones you want anyway, and it’s not me,” Cannon replies, serious now.
“I can’t do that again,” I say.
“You said that once already,” he points out gently. “But if you really need those answers, you’ll have to bring yourself to talk to him.”
I open my mouth to protest, but Cannon isn’t finished.
“You didn’t come here so I could give you answers. You came for one of two reasons: A, you want to hide from Holden, or B, you came here so I would talk you into facing Holden. Because that’s the only way you’ll ever be able to really move on.”
He knows me so well, and he’s right. I knew he wouldn’t let me hide out. And I also knew he would tell me to face Holden, and I knew that once Cannon suggested talking to Holden, it wouldn’t feel like such a bad idea.
The thing is though, I’m not sure if I really want the answers or if I need them so that I can move on. A part of me always hoped that he would come back for me and that when he did I could find a way to forgive him. He would ride me off into the sunset, and we could live happily ever after or some shit. But then a whole year passed without even a call or a letter. That year was hell. Cannon helped me get through. There were days it felt like the air was literally so heavy, every breath I took felt like a part of me crumbled into tiny pieces and drifted away into the wind. Those days, Cannon would hold me for hours and tell me everything good about myself even when I didn’t want to listen.
Then two years went by and still no letter. It didn’t hurt any less, but breathing became a little easier. Then three. I was taking a few classes at the community college to get my business degree so I could take over the diner one day. That’s always been my dream: take over the diner and raise a family there just like my family always has. I had to let go of part of that dream. I couldn’t even think of dating anyone after Holden. He was my world, and he walked away. I found a way to push the thought of us aside and try to be as happy as possible. A way to exist. The diner is all I have left.
I won’t let Holden or anyone else tear my heart into tiny fucking pieces again. But I still deserve answers. I chug the rest of my drink and jump off the sofa. He will tell me everything. It’s now or never.
CHAPTER FIVE
HOLDEN
I have spent the last few hours walking around town, wandering aimlessly, trying to make sense of Grey’s total lack of emotion when she saw me. I mean, how could she be so casual?
I stopped at some of my and Grey’s old spots. The spot in the sand dunes down at the beach where we had our first date and our first kiss. The small creek behind the playground where Grey and I would pretend to be pirates and go on epic quests and treasure hunts.
I couldn’t help myself; they were just there, calling out to me, reminding me of how good we were together, how we could always make each other laugh. I tried to focus only on that—on the good memories—but of course, then my mind went somewhere darker, and I remembered how we used to say we could get through anything together. How I promised her forever and left when we were only seventeen. It doesn’t matter that I had no real choice in the matter. It only matters that I hurt her.
I keep seeing the half smile she gave me in the diner when I finally closed the distance between us, hearing her casual greeting. The distance was only a couple feet of black-and-white linoleum, but it might as well have been a chasm filled with molten lava because whatever it was between us kept us miles apart.
Her indifference toward me was so much worse than her being angry with me would have been. Angry would have been easier. Angry I would have known how to deal with. But this cool indifference? That stings. Like really fucking stings. It’s like she barely even knew me. Like I was someone she said hello to in passing in the hallways at school or studied with once or twice at the library.
Her reaction was much harder for me to swallow than any of the scenarios I played out in my head. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy going in, but I didn’t know it would be impossible. Although I’m not ready to give up on her.
I’ll never give up on her.
I have to convince her not to give up on me. That’s doable.
Isn’t it?
It has to be. I have to find a way to get through to her, to show her that I’ve changed, and I’ll never let her down again.
I get back to the house as I try to figure out what the fuck I can say or do to help Grey remember how good we were together. To make her remember how I made her feel. Because unless I can help her remember the good times, I’ll just be somebody she used to know.
I go in the house putting up a wall; I know my father is home. I have no idea how he feels about me being home, but I’m sure my mother told him. I guess it’s time to find out. I find my parents in the living room watching TV.
“Hi honey,” Mom greets me as I come in.
She’s wearing her robe, her hair still wet from her shower. She stands up.
“You know what? I think I would like a nice hot bath in the tub,” she says.
She flits out of the room without waiting for my father or me to react.
“Subtle,” I mutter.
My father
picks up the remote and mutes the TV.
“Your mother is under the impression we should talk. Put the past behind us,” my father says. He nods toward an armchair. “Sit down.”
It isn’t a request, and I bristle at his tone. I’m not a fucking kid he can just boss around anymore. I cross my arms.
“Holden, you’re not a child anymore, so stop acting like one. I refuse to have any sort of conversation with someone who looks like he’ll bolt the second things get real,” my father says.
I open my mouth to tell him to go fuck himself, but I bite my tongue. He kind of has a point. I have nothing to say to him, and I certainly don’t want to hear whatever apology he’s got planned, but my mom has to live here too, and I don’t want to make things awkward for her. If I plan on staying here, I need to at least find a way to be in the same room with my father without there being an atmosphere. And standing huffing in the doorway isn’t the action of a man; it’s the action of a moody teenager, and as much as being back here makes me feel like nothing has changed, I have. I’ve grown up. I make my decision, and I go and sit down.
“Your mom is right,” my father says. “It’s time to let go of the past and start over. I know you probably want to apologize for the way you behaved as a teenager, but that’s in the past now, and …”
I cut him off, shocked that he would even think such a ridiculous thing.
“Wait, you think I’m the one who should apologize?”
“Yes, I—”
I cut him off. “You sent me away,” I snap.
“What was I supposed to do? Sit back and watch you throw your life away? When you started to pull away from Rick and Zeke and the guys you were always friends with and got in with those hooligans, I had to do something. You’d only known them a couple weeks and look what happened. What do you think would have been next, Holden?”
“I was just a kid. Admittedly, they weren’t good friends or good people, but it was your job to make me see that, not throw me away like trash,” I reply.
My father rolls his eyes.
“I saved you from destroying your life, and you know it as well as I do,” he says, raising his voice slightly. “And if you think I’m going to apologize for that, then you’ve got another thing coming.”
