by Rae, Harloe
“I’m not even sure what to do with that,” I tell him honestly.
Gavin sighs. “That’s part of the problem. You should’ve saved the singing for a rainy day.”
“I can make other gestures,” I grumble.
“Don’t send flowers or dick pics. That’s lame.”
“I wasn’t going to.” Although, she might’ve appreciated a snapshot of my cock at one point.
“You’re still a shitty liar.” He chuckles.
“What do you suggest?”
He gives a quick jerk of his head. “Nice try. You’re in the doghouse, not me. Be creative. In the meantime, get some knee pads and brush up on your begging skills. Prepare a speech or three. Kneel until your balls shrivel and vanish altogether. You won’t need ’em without her anyway.”
“Awesome,” I say with a bitter lilt. But that gets the rusty gears in my brain turning. For now, I grab my cell and tap the text icon.
Me: Hey. Hello. Just saying hi. And for the record, I’m not giving up until you talk to me.
Even if she just says fuck off or something along those lines. It’s what I deserve. That doesn’t mean it won’t hurt, but I can’t stand the idea of her hating me. I click send and watch as my words morph into a blue bubble. That message joins the fifteen others I sent before. All of them left unread with zero chance of response. Her clear refusal to answer won’t deter me.
Gavin lifts his chin at my phone. “Any luck?”
“Not yet.”
He brings his mug of beer to his lips. “Keep trying. I have a good feeling.”
I drift a palm across the sore spot of my shredded abdomen. If only I shared the same confidence.
I lower my fist as my latest knock goes unanswered. Not that I’m surprised. This is a similar response to the slew of calls and texts I’ve made in an attempt to connect with Audria. Packages with sentimental items that I’ve dropped off have received the same fate as well. One sliver of light in all this recent darkness is my assumption that she’s accepted the gifts. Otherwise shandy cans, boxes of fish I personally caught and prepared, milk jugs, and sacks of straight-from-the-stalk corn cobs would still be on her porch. That doesn’t mean she didn’t immediately discard my efforts into her dumpster.
That possibility stains my tongue with a bitter tang. I try not to let the defeat show, but I practically leave a bloody trail behind me. Two weeks is too long without hearing her voice. A gust of frigid windchill bites me in the ass, and I shudder against the onslaught. If it weren’t for these sporadic bursts, I could loiter out here all day. Her resolve will weaken eventually, even if it’s just to tell me off.
“She’s not home.”
I turn toward the feminine voice delivering that seemingly helpful piece of intel. Perhaps Audria isn’t avoiding me too aggressively after all. Sondra stands on the sidewalk, offering me a lopsided smile that trembles with sympathy.
I set my latest peace offering—a crate of farm-fresh eggs—on Audria’s stoop and stride toward her waiting neighbor. “Where is she?”
Her grin fades and takes any illusion of comfort with it. “Gone.”
That one word has the impact of a semi crashing through my chest. “When did she leave?”
Sondra laughs. “Not permanently. Just for the day. Bea took her to Des Moines.”
A big city, of course. But I don’t let that knowledge turn my mood sour. I force myself to take a deep breath. The burst of cold air does little to calm my racing thoughts. “Okay, that’s good. I’m glad she’s doing something fun this weekend.”
“You sure do stop by often.” She motions to the box I just delivered.
“I’m trying to make amends. We got into a pretty nasty fight.”
“Well, I bet she’s taking notice. This is a busy time of year with her job.” It’s a brushoff, but I appreciate the effort.
I’ve been tempted to swing by the school, but bothering Audria while she’s teaching seems like crossing a line. A hidden sense warns me that forcing her to face me would be a horrible idea. I listen to that wise voice, albeit unwillingly. The reception I would receive might not be positive—or pleasant—for any unsuspecting bystanders. The last thing I want is to cause a scene and ruin any perceived traction I’ve managed to make.
Another frosty breeze slaps me in the face, as if to yank my damn head from the clouds. How ironic, considering none fill the sky. I tilt my face and confirm that fact for lack of anything better to do. This is apparently how I waste meaningless minutes on end without awareness.
Sondra clears her throat, dragging me out of the daze. I don’t know how my mind wandered to begin with. Sondra stares at me expectantly when I regain proper focus. Damn, how long was I coasting on smoke up there?
I scratch at the flush burning across my jaw. “Uh, sorry. I’m a bit sleep-deprived.”
Her eyebrows are still raised. “You do seem a tad frazzled, no offense.”
A limp shrug jostles an ache in my shoulder. Everything fucking hurts lately. “None taken, and I deserve it regardless. Did Audria tell you what happened between us?”
Sondra drops her gaze, suddenly finding a pile of snow more interesting. “A little, but I haven’t seen much of her myself. She revealed enough that I should probably call you an asshole.”
“I deserve that.” I sigh.
“You certainly do. What gives, Reeve?” She taps her chunky boot against the icy concrete.
I grip the back of my neck. “That’s the same question I’ve been asking myself for weeks. I don’t have a good enough answer, other than I was trying to ease the burden.”
“Ouch, no wonder Audria is pissed. Please tell me you don’t see her as an inconvenience.”
“No, of course not. If anything, I’m the one complicating this.” I scrub my face with a gloved hand. “Which is how I got myself in trouble to begin with. I thought it was the right thing to do, for her sake. I don’t want her to feel obligated to stay.”
Sondra squints as a streak of sunlight casts over us. “Why would she?”
“Because we’d still be together.” That pesky hidden sense warns me this could be a trap. I ignore the gut instinct with a heavy exhale. “So, why wait until she leaves in June? I thought ending things with her before we got more… invested would be for the best.”
“Why did you have to end things at all?”
The need to defend myself rears up. “What’s the alternative?”
She huffs with a roll of her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Be rational adults and talk through this massive blockade before it becomes a critical issue? Try being reasonable? Predict this would’ve happened to begin with?”
“Yeah, if only those options occurred to me while I was blowing shit out of proportion.”
“If only,” she snips. “I didn’t take you for a quitter. All good looks and charm but no glory?”
A familiar knot tightens in my gut. I don’t need her to tell me all the ways I screw up. “Does this look like quitting? I’m not visiting for a leisurely stroll, Sondra. I can only do so much when the other person won’t reply. For all I know, Audria is just getting more upset that I’m bothering her.”
Sondra crosses her arms. “If that were the case, you would’ve heard it from her. Silence isn’t always a bad thing, Reeve. It means she’s mad but still clinging onto what happened. She hasn’t let go or detached. You have something left to fight for. Being angry is better than nothing. If she didn’t care or wanted to be left alone, you’d be the first to know about it. She’ll answer you once the sting wears off. Then you’ll have a shot at redemption.”
“Really?” My dubious tone escapes in a puff of steam.
She just stares at me with the sort of blank expression Gavin has been wearing quite often around me. I’ve come to understand that it means I’m being an idiot.
“Yes, really. Just be patient. I’m sure she’s hurt and trying to figure out the best way to handle that.”
My chin tucks on its own as the strain swoops in. “I
just miss her, Sondra. She’s avoiding me on purpose, and that hurts. I just… miss her.” Recycling the same phrases is where I’m at on the creative level. My brain seems to become more sloppy with each passing beat. Having a solitary focus certainly makes functioning on fumes easier.
“Keep doing what you’re doing. Is two weeks your limit? How about if she’s still using the silent treatment in a month? Will you surrender then?”
“No,” I mumble.
“What’s the goal after she talks to you? Settle for trying long distance after she’s back in Minnesota?”
I shuffle my feet in the slush. “That’s not ideal, but I’m willing to accept whatever she’ll give me. I’d be happy with her friendship.”
“No, you wouldn’t. Don’t lie.”
“At this point, I’ll settle for a single conversation.”
“Well, damn.” She inhales a lungful of air. “Do you know my history, Reeve?”
“Not really, other than you’re not originally from Bam.”
“I used to live in Chicago, one of the largest cities in the United States. I love the bright lights and shiny skyscrapers. Riding the subway is a breeze. There’s nothing quite like downtown traffic, all the hustle and bustle. The convenience of stopping at a hot dog vendor on the street corner is fantastic.” She smacks her lips for emphasis.
I scratch an itch under my stocking cap. “Okay?”
Sondra fixes her gaze on mine. “Do you think I regret moving to Bampton Valley, Reeve? That I made a sacrifice by giving up a huge part of my past? Did I choose wrong by making a home in this small town after growing up in a totally opposite environment?”
Audria must have filled her in on my comments. I grunt at the implications I made. “No, that’s what you wanted.”
“Exactly,” she huffs in exasperation. “Don’t make assumptions.”
“Too late.” I spew a silent string of expletives.
“For taking charge and implying you can decide what’s best? Absolutely. But this thing you have with Audria isn’t a lost cause.”
“I hope you’re right,” I mumble.
“You can count on it. I have experience, remember? Do I miss the city? Of course. But I would miss Bam more. I bet the same goes for Audria. All it takes is one major piece to complete the puzzle. Figure it out, Reeve. Give her a reason to stay.” Sondra pats my chest. “And a shitload of groveling.”
For the first time in nearly a week, my chest feels lighter. “A day hasn’t gone by without her receiving something from me.”
“Go bigger, and better. Make her believe you.” Her voice rings with the type of conviction that hypes up rallies. She should be a motivational speaker.
Seeking her out over Gavin would’ve saved me a shitload of suffering, and beer money.
“I’ve been sending her gifts.” I pitch a thumb over my shoulder.
Sondra quirks a brow. “And how’s that working for you?”
“Piss-poor at best.”
“What you truly need to offer is already in reach and what she wants most. Audria might be willing to give up her entire life in the city. The least you can do is give her a reason,” she reminds. “Fight for her. Show her that you mean it.”
Perhaps I’ve found another ally in this gruesome battle. “You’re a good friend, Sondra. No wonder Audria has fallen for Bam.”
Her cackle ends on a snort, plumes of steam rushing from her nose. “Feel free to take all the credit for that, Reeve. I know you want to.”
I burrow into the popped collar of my coat. “Nah, it’s a team effort.”
“I’ll tell her you were here, okay? I’m not sure it’ll do much.” She pats my arm.
“Any reinforcements are greatly appreciated. I’m striking out on my own.” That truth is still a sour pill to choke down, even with this newfound boost.
“You’re a good guy, Reeve.”
“Let’s hope you’re not the only one who thinks so. Thanks for listening to me ramble.”
“It wasn’t such a chore. I guarantee Audria is crazy about you.”
“More like crazy for getting involved with me.”
Sondra shakes her head with another laugh. “No, doofus. I meant what I said. Quit being a downer. I haven’t known her long, but she speaks from the heart. Hers only talks about you. That’s something to cherish.”
And something I will never take for granted again.
I stand in front of the Promethean board, watching my students finish their snowman projects. They’ve been diligently cutting and gluing for the last thirty minutes without pause. Sometimes all it takes is cotton balls, construction paper, and glitter to entertain them. Will I be able to recreate a similar flow next week? There’s only one way to find out—not that I have other options.
“All right, class. While you’re putting those finishing touches on Frosty, I have an important announcement before you leave for the weekend.” I wait until they give me their attention, or at least to the standard for a room full of second graders. “This is my final day as your teacher. Mrs. Johnson will be returning on Monday.”
A chorus of disappointed groans echoes toward me. The sound, although sad, spreads a blanket of cozy warmth over me. Several wide-eyed stares seek mine, as if misunderstanding. This news isn’t a secret by any stretch of the imagination. Considering that they’re constantly distracted at their age, I’ve repeated this speech at least once per day this week.
My smile trembles at the corners while I prepare to deliver a farewell worthy of these gracious children. They made my maiden dive into teaching sleek and smooth without so much as a splash. “I’ll still be in the building, covering for Mrs. Chasid. That means we’ll pass each other in the hallways.”
“But that’s fifth grade,” Danny whines.
“It is,” I confirm.
“Can Mrs. Johnson teach that class instead? Then you can stay with us.” Polly’s suggestion accompanies a wide grin.
A long sigh hunches my shoulders. “That’s not how the schedule is set, unfortunately. You’re going to love Mrs. Johnson and forget all about me.”
“No way, Miss Griffin. We love you too much,” Tallie says.
I glance at the colorful displays of artwork and assignments adorning the wall. “I’ll miss you all very much, and I promise to visit often.”
Gabby steps forward, carrying a gift bag that she got from who knows where. She thrusts it directly into my arms. “This is for you, from all of us.”
“You guys got me a present? No way.” Stinging heat attacks my eyes. I’m a goner. A glance at the clock shows I made it a solid four hours without the threat of tears. It might be a new record in these past three weeks.
“Open it!” they shout as a unified voice.
I sniffle in earnest while lifting folds of tissue paper. Nestled on the bottom is a shirt. When I unfold the white fabric, our class picture from the fall greets me. On the back is a squiggly collection of their signatures. The effort of stopping the emotion from trickling out is useless. I wipe the moisture away, but more droplets drift down my cheeks.
“Don’t be sad,” Gabby whispers.
“These are happy tears, kiddo.” I press a palm over my mouth to muffle a sob. Being buried deep in the feels has gotten me into one pickle after another recently. I clear my throat and address the entire class. “Thank you all so much. I’ll treasure this forever.”
“Put it on,” they chant.
Who am I to deny such a request? I tug the cotton over my head without worrying about tact. “Perfect fit. Now I have something to remember my favorite students by.”
“You’re not supposed to have favorites,” Kurtis scolds.
“I won’t tell if you don’t.” I press a finger to my lips.
Giggles and nods fill the room. The urge to send them off with an epic goodbye fills my chest, but stringing a sentence together is suddenly a challenge. My throat clenches as I try to express what they mean to me. More tears leak from my eyes faster than I can swipe the dr
ips away. This personalized memento steals my composure, leaving me without the ability to form adequate words. Instead, I kneel and allow them to tackle me in a group hug. The dismissal bell sounds while we’re still in a tangle. Rather than the typical rush, the students shuffle off with a somber gait. A fresh ache stabs at my belly. I hate to be responsible for dulling their moods.
A solo kiddo separates from the pack and smashes herself into my side. “I don’t want you to go.”
I ruffle Gabby’s hair. “You’ll still see me around, sweetie. I’ll just be right down the hall.”
Her little fingers grip onto my jeans. “But you aren’t friends with Uncle Ree anymore. I liked seeing you with him. You smiled more, and we got to hang out with the horses. That was super fun.”
As if she’d driven a fist straight into my ribs, I almost fold in half. “It’s not that I don’t like your uncle, Gabby. We just haven’t been talking as much lately.”
“Why not? Did he make you mad? My mama said Uncle Ree is a turkey butt.” She slaps a hand over her gap-toothed grin.
I laugh along with her. “That’s a good nickname for him.”
“He’s been really grouchy. I guess he feels bad.”
The countless attempts he’s made to contact me would support that. “I think you’re right, Gabby.”
She beams at me. “You always tell me I’m super smart.”
“And that’s the truth.” Similar to the agony of being apart from Reeve. But that’s not a secret I should share with his niece. “Did you know that when two people disagree, they’re both usually at fault? At least a little bit.” I’m tossing myself under the bus more than anyone.
Her humorous gasp almost draws another laugh from me. “So, Uncle Ree is mad at you? That doesn’t make sense because he seems super sad. But does that mean you’ll forgive him? I’m sure he misses you. He probably didn’t act like a turkey butt on purpose.”
I stifle a smile at her rambling. This girl makes quite the matchmaker. “It’s very difficult to stay mad at your uncle.”
