by Alex Rosa
“I know. That’s not what I want.”
“What do you want, Caiden, because for the life of me I can’t figure out what that is. Your sad looks, or funny jabs, or the way you stare at me like you want to hold me but push me away. I can’t take it. None of this feels fair.”
“Ask me,” he says placing himself right in front of me; too close.
“Ask you what?”
“You’re right. I’m the one with all the questions, but it’s only because I never thought I’d get the opportunity to ask them, so I’m all over the place trying to get answers to things I never understood. Your book flipped my world upside down, and coping with that all these years has been hard. Ask me whatever you want.”
Being put on the spot so suddenly, I lose my train of thought, and I try not to stare at the fact that his swim trunks hang effortlessly on his strong, perfect hips. The V dipping into the waistband of his shorts is as defined as much as our names in this stupid tree.
“I don’t know where to start, other than with what I’m feeling right now.”
“Then say it.”
I don’t hesitate. I’m sick of overthinking. I need answers just as much as he does. “Why didn’t you chase me then, all those years ago? Not that I needed to be chased, but why not try harder? It seems so easy for you now. You never once considered doing the long-distance thing for me. If you love Kristen more, then I understand, but just say it and I’ll drop this whole thing. Just tell me the truth; you’re not going to hurt my feelings.”
Lies.
He lets out a long sigh, his eyes dropping to the ground. He runs a hand over his chin, then tugs on his bottom lip. His eyes are blazing as they pin me to the spot, so much so that I take a step back, stumbling into the tree behind me.
“I did chase you.”
He doesn’t go on. He lets the words hang. I try and process them, but it doesn’t compute.
“You did not,” I respond.
He steps forward, looming over me. Our bubble is back, and I hate that I feel safe and that I’m not afraid of the honesty that comes with it.
“I did,” he repeats, but doesn’t elaborate.
“I would have heard about it.”
He shakes his head. “Brandon and CeeCee swore never to tell because it would have done more damage than help things.”
“What about my mom, did she know?”
His face falls. “She did, but she was also there for the aftermath.”
This fact stings. My mom never stopped shielding me from what she thought might hurt. Why does everyone have this need to protect me? Haven’t I proven that I can hack it?
“Caiden, don’t start a conversation you can’t finish, because this information is going to kill me, so you better explain yourself.”
He grits his teeth, and I can see the fear in the depths of his eyes. “After you left, I was a wreck. At first I was a hermit, occupying myself with staying home. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Your mom was sorta lost, too, without you, and to busy myself, I was over all the time, helping her with menial stuff. It was this stupid way for me to feel close to you. You dropped me and never tried to reach out.”
“We—I didn’t leave on the best of terms. You made it very clear that if I left, that was it.”
“I was an idiot. I thought about things more during that time than I ever have. I’d consider calling you, then back out. I was hurt and scared. There was always this lingering doubt. Then, I don’t know what happened. I woke up one morning needing to see you. I needed you, and this whole letting-you-go thing felt like the stupidest thing I ever did. I didn’t care about the rights or wrongs. I figured I’d make it work somehow. So I bought a plane ticket that morning.”
Taking in a deep breath, I shake my head, too afraid to speak.
He nods in retaliation, going on, “I did,” he confirms. “I was ready to chase you. I wanted you. You need to know that part. You had only been gone two months, and I was floundering. I thought that no matter what, I would make it work.” He releases a long breath, turning away from me but placing his palm against the trunk to the right side of my face, leaning into me.
“I got to the airport, and all I had was this half-filled duffle bag. Brandon dropped me off, and I went to the gate to wait for my flight. But I started chickening out again. I had too much time to kill. I started to think about all the reasons you might have left all over again, because I knew what I was doing was a huge risk. I didn’t want to hold you back, and suddenly it dawned on me that me making you choose in the first place was me doing that exact thing. I freaked out.” He stops, his eyes flickering with the painful memory as he shifts his footing, trying to resituate his thoughts.
“I worried that if I ran to you, that I’d be part of something you needed to keep afloat, and I’d be holding you back in an entirely different way. We were kids, only nineteen, I know. We’ve covered that. But I wanted the best for you, and suddenly in that moment my rash decision to see you felt like such a selfish thing. I was selfish once with making you choose, but I didn’t want to do that again. You knew where you were going. You knew what you wanted. The damage had been done, and you chose to leave. I understand now that it wasn’t you not choosing me, but in that sad, sad moment, I loved you too much to let you destroy what you were already working so hard for. I felt defeated, but for once I felt okay with it. I did try calling you in the airport to tell you all of this. I half hoped you’d talk me into getting onto the plane, to tell me you were going stir crazy, like me, or,” he pauses, “or you’d confirm what I was feeling. That it was better I stayed in Colorado. You didn’t pick up your phone, and I don’t blame you for it. I knew you were still angry. But… I returned my ticket at check-in. I only got half of the amount back and used that to take a bus back home. I took the bus and then walked from the station straight to your mom’s house. She told me to go with my gut, and that she wanted what was best for the both of us. I didn’t know what that was. So I just went with the flow, losing myself in the tasks of life, trying to keep busy all over again, knowing that you were on a path you wanted, and I had to try and find mine without interrupting yours.”
“My mom knew how much I missed you,” I blurt out. “So did CeeCee.”
His free hand reaches out and strums against my forearm tucked tightly against my chest, and each little tap disrupts the rhythm of my heart. It’s too much.
“They didn’t talk to me about you. No one would. Your mom only said that if it was meant to be, it would happen, and that only time would tell. I got pissed off every time she’d say it, and then she’d yell at me for the string of profanities that followed. Then she’d make me do yard work to blow off the steam.”
“I did need you,” I respond, gulping down the words. “If I had known you were—”
“No Hailey, as much as I wish things had been different, I don’t know if I would change it. You got what you wanted.”
I let out a huff, shooting him a glare, but getting lost in his eyes just the same. “That’s so unfair of you to say. You gave up on me. I never wanted to let you go. It was never supposed to be about sacrifice.”
“I know it seems like I gave up on you, but it was all about preserving my own heart, too. I had never dealt with that sort of emptiness. I stayed busy, Hailey, and I know this won’t make sense, but staying close with your mom was the only thing that got me through. I got to hear the tiniest updates about you that she’d allow. When you got your first chapter written, when you finished the novel, the ton of agents you queried, to getting the publishing deal. I knew about it all. It was the only thing that kept me alive and kicking. I was so proud of you.” He lifts his hand to brush a piece of hair away from my face. I hold still even though I want to lean into his touch.
“I drove all the way to Denver to buy a copy of your book. It was like this piece of you that I was allowed to have, even if I had to share it with the world. Believe me when I say I never forgot about you. I didn’t date anyone for years,
Hailey. Although, I was lost and reckless. I threw myself into finding a purpose. The rough and strenuous work of being at the station just fit me. I got to work off all this pent-up aggression I felt with life. Eventually though, being so angry at myself started getting old. I wasn’t living, and you never came back home. I started to realize you might never come back. Also, it started getting harder for me to ever consider leaving PineCrest. Your life in LA was getting better and better, and I knew I was a reminder of a failure.”
“You are a reminder of why my heart aches, not that we failed. You don’t get over your first love, Caid.”
“I know. But I had told myself that after four years it was time to move on, but don’t ever think I wanted to. It was never over in my mind.”
“I’m so mad at you right now.”
He shrugs, and it makes me angrier.
“I didn’t have anyone to help with how I was feeling,” I say. “You know how I fixed my heart?”
He nudges his chin up, telling me to go on, and I hate that he’s so close to my face.
“I wrote a fucking book about it, that’s how.”
His eyes go wide, as if he never considered the book as a coping mechanism.
“That’s how I moved on,” I add. “We both had to find our ways to move on, and I did, and obviously so have you. And that’s okay! It’s hard for us, I get it, but we can forgive each other now.”
I’m trying to find a way to calm my out-of-control heartbeats and to somehow stomach this feral look overcoming his features as he stares, but it’s hard to multitask with him around me like this. I want so much of what I can’t have. He must know it. He’s got to feel it.
“You know, if that’s the case, Hailey, then why write the book the way you did? If it’s all about the fact I was such a dick and made you choose, then why write this alternate reality as the way to move on?”
My face is heating up fast, and I have nowhere to run with him so close. He’s talking about the one topic I’ve been dreading. The ending.
“I told you, it was cathartic. That’s the nice thing about writing fiction. You can write what you want.”
“Is that what you wanted then, Hailey? For us to work out?”
He leans in, the humid heat of his breath skimming over my lips, and I so desperately want to see whether he tastes the same, or whether he’d kiss me with the same frantic need he did when we were teens. But I’m finding I can’t breathe. Alarms are going off in my head. I’m not nineteen anymore; I’m twenty-four, with five years of heartbreak experience.
I close my eyes. I have to, in order to go on.
“Don’t you dare kiss me, Caiden Anderson. It’s not fair to me, and it’s not fair to your girlfriend.” My eyes fly open, and he leans back just an inch, obviously perplexed by my outburst.
My lips are stammering, but I try to keep my words crisp, licking my lips, wishing he’d kiss me anyway, but I know that it’s wrong. It’s all wrong. “You were right before. We can’t change the past, but what’s done is done. You have a girlfriend, and I’m here for only one reason: my mom.” My jaw spasms at those words, because that’s not entirely true, but I’m so hurt from the night before, and him standing before me, and the wanting look in his eyes, that it kills me. “Don’t forget, Caiden, I’m going to be leaving eventually all over again. So anything you might be feeling is only going to last a little while. I’d hate for you to do something you’ll regret, like kissing me. You’re going to go back to living your life that doesn’t include me, and that’s okay.”
I keep saying things are okay, but why does my heart tremble each time I say it?
“It’s not like that, Hailey.”
“It has to be; don’t you get that? I’m here now, but it doesn’t change the lives we built for ourselves. We had our chance.”
His face, only inches away from mine, tenses all over again, from the muscles around his eyes to the ones around his perfect mouth.
“Let’s stop pretending that there’s hope for us. I’m thankful for you, Caiden, I am,” I add even though each word, and each inhale and exhale, feels like sandpaper against my insides. Sometimes doing the right thing hurts.
“I missed you. It’s not supposed to be like this,” he blurts out as if to salvage whatever moment we had, but it’s not enough.
I shake my head, my eyes watering. I wish I could say the same because it would be true, but that’s not how this can work. I wipe the corners of my eyes. “Are you listening to me? Stop missing me, Caiden. Go call your girlfriend.”
He’s staring at me solemnly, hurt and regret riddled into every tense muscle in his body now. His eyes are trying to tell me something he can’t seem to say, and I’m too terrified of what it might be.
I sigh, finding the confidence I didn’t know I had as I step out of his encompassing presence and away from him. “I wish it wasn’t this way either,” I say, responding to his look. “But we just have to deal with everything now, Caid. We’re okay, please know that. We can be friends, but this whole emotional entanglement we have going on doesn’t need to be there anymore. Let me go.” My hand comes up to my chest, clawing at my heart, because if anything is painful, it’s those words. Telling him to let me go when I’d hate it if he did is excruciating, but I don’t take it back.
I take another step away. “And I know you’re going to hate this, but I’m bringing Gabe Samuels to the party tonight. Figured I should warn you.”
I turn around, starting my walk back toward our friends, leaving him to think.
“Hailey!”
I shouldn’t turn around, but there’s something in his tone that strikes a chord, compelling me to swivel around. “What, Caiden?”
Tugging on that plump bottom lip that’s as swollen as mine from being chewed raw with nerves, he says, “You asked me something earlier, and you need to know that it was never about wanting to be in a long-distance relationship. When I started to date Kristen, she was already living in Denver for school. I only did it because it was easier that way. Giving my heart to someone who I’d only see every couple weeks felt more doable than doing it all at once. I didn’t consider it when you left, only because the idea of not having you every day seemed impossible. I think it’s important you understand the difference.”
I nod. He smiles. I walk away hating that I didn’t get the last word.
Chapter Eight
My boots crunch onto the dry pine needles as I hop from my car. I pull in a deep breath, loving the smell of the raging bonfire I can already see in the distance. It’s almost more nostalgic than the pine smell it twists around.
I smooth my hands over my ribs, remembering it took me the entire evening to pick out a dress. And by pick out a dress, I mean pick from the four that I brought.
I stared. I tried on. I threw it across the room.
Rinse and repeat.
Sometimes I’d stop to pace the porch outside, needing a gust of fresh air as the day wound down since leaving the lakeshore.
The words let me go have been ringing in my head like a gong.
Why did I have to say those words?
I reassure myself that it was the right thing to say by putting one foot in front of the other, counting my strides until I’m at the party’s edge.
Peering down at my clothes, I tug down the hem anxiously, reminding myself that after the ruthless deliberation, I ended up choosing my strappy dark navy dress that cuts off on my long legs mid-thigh and fits snugly against my hips. I told myself it’s the warm, humid summer evening that had me convinced, but I’m beginning to question my own sincerity.
It’s like I’m playing with matches.
Which reminds me of the blazing bonfire, my eyes flying to the center, noticing the fire is lit from three large wood pallets piled upon each other, and around it the expansive area is packed with people. Music blares from speakers sitting on the back of a pickup truck next to another truck harboring the many ice chests of drinks. It’s the large bonfire, with its tall pluming fla
mes, that acts as the centerpiece to the party, like a beacon.
