by Renee Fowler
I’ll wait until I’m on the road tomorrow to call and break the news, or maybe after I get home. If I tell him now, he’ll say I’m being emotional and irrational. Hell, maybe I am. It’s a terrible thing, not being able to trust your own thought process. Maybe I really should wait a few days for the news of my dad’s death to sink in before I go making any rash decisions.
But as I leave with my bags the next morning, something tells me I’m never going to see this house or this city again.
Chapter Two
Noah
She traces a fingertip over my bicep and down my arm, outlining the half sleeve I’ve had done in bits and pieces over the years. “What’s up with all this?”
“It’s a tattoo,” I state plainly, rolling away from her and out of the bed.
“You’re really leaving already?”
I pull on my jeans and snag the black T-shirt up from the floor. “I’ve gotta be up early.”
“That makes two of us.” She tucks a piece of dirty blonde hair behind her ear, and pats the empty spot beside her. “Come back to bed, Noah. I’ll set the alarm for you.”
“Sorry, S—” What the hell was her name? Sandy. Stacey. Something that starts with an S. “Sugar, I don’t do sleepovers. I thought I told you that.”
She gives an exaggerated pout. “You got someone waiting on you at home?”
“As a matter of fact I do.”
Her plump lips smeared with ruined lipstick fall open, and she clutches the sheet up around her shoulders. I probably ought to just let her believe it because this isn’t going anywhere. She might not realize it yet, but she’ll figure it out soon enough.
Maybe I am a bit of an asshole at times, but even I can’t slink out of here with her thinking she’s the other woman. “Her name’s Lola. She’s got four legs, a waggy tail, and she’ll be mighty upset with me if I don’t show my face at home tonight,” I say, pulling the shirt down my torso.
Sandy, Stacey, or something that starts with an S gives me a relaxed smile. “Alright. Well, don’t be a stranger. See you around, Noah.”
“Yup.” No doubt I would see her again since I followed her home from my favorite watering hole. Maybe I’ll need to find a new place to unwind after work in the future.
Outside I snatch up the helmet from my seat, jam it down over head, and swing a leg over to climb on my ride. I flick up the kickstand, and roll back out of the gravel driveway. When the back wheel nudges asphalt, I turn the key in the ignition, and the engine roars to life.
Usually I love riding at night, but not this night. I’m in a foul mood. I shouldn’t have went home with her. I should’ve went back to my place and jerked off, but she looked a bit like Tori. She had that same straight blonde hair, and small frame, but she sounded nothing like her, and she didn’t shut up the whole damn time.
It’s pathetic. The whole thing is absolutely pathetic, and bizarre. Tori and me were only an item for about three years, and it’s going on eight since we were together. Six since I’ve laid eyes on her.
That last time I saw her should’ve cemented it for me. Tori walked right past me one day in town like I was nobody, and I guess to her I am.
If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve got to admit the two of us might not have lasted anyway. We were just kids when we got together, and she was way too good for me from the start. Tori was destined to go off to college and make something of herself, while I was doomed to spin my wheels in this little town, turning a wrench down at my uncle’s garage.
But it’s the way things ended, or never ended, I should say. It’s not like we broke up. We just stopped. Tori stopped loving me, and I never could do the same.
God knows I’ve tried. I moved away from Brockton for a few years. I took up with a string of women, a few who reminded me of her, and several that were nothing like her at all, but it didn’t work. I could never shake her all the way, and it was brutally unfair to those other girls.
Sandy, Stacey, or something that starts with an S deserves better than that, doesn’t she?
At home I park my bike under the awning, and go inside to greet Lola. The shaggy, golden retriever jumps all over me as I come through the door. “You’re the only girl I need nowadays, aren’t you?”
***
The garage is closed on Sundays, but we’re a bit behind, and I need something to do. I prefer being here by myself anyway, not having to listen to that shitty country music Buck likes so damn much. There aren’t people in and out, and I can actually get something done for a change.
I leave the bay doors open to let in some air. It’s not even eight, and it’s already warm. In a few hours, it’s going to be sweltering
Around ten I crawl out from beneath the Chevy, strip off my outer work shirt, and toss it in the direction of one of the rolling tool boxes. I step outside with a pop in one hand, and a pack of Camels in the other. Fucking nasty habit, I know. I keep quitting and picking it back up. I bet I’ve quit twenty times since Tori got ripped away from me.
That’s how I look at my life now. Before Tori and after Tori.
Before Tori, I might’ve smoked a few at a party here or there, but it wasn’t a habit. After Tori, it feels like all I do is try to manage my habits, and smoking ain’t so bad in relation to the others. That’s partially why I got Lola. It makes it easier not to fall into being a good for nothing drunk when I have that little lady waiting for me at home, depending on me and needing me to take care of her.
I suck down half the pop, all of one cigarette, and crush the butt under my boot. After I finish these back brakes, I’ll take Lola down to the river. I’ll probably bring a few beers along in a cooler, but just a few. Enough to pass the time while I wait for a fish to bite that I’ll end up throwing back.
Maybe I’ll call Natalie. She’s sort of like Sandy, Stacey, or something that starts with an S, but I know her name. I have her number stored in my phone. She’s pretty enough. I like her okay, but the best thing about Natalie is, she’s not expecting anything except the occasional good time. She’s got a kid, a demanding job, and not much patience for anything else. It’s easy. Harmless. Two people blowing off steam now and again. No chance of anyone getting hurt, and god knows I’ve hurt enough people to last a lifetime.
I light another cigarette, and pull out my phone to call Natalie. She answers on the third ring. “What’s up, Noah?”
“Not a whole helluva lot. What are you up to tonight, Nat?”
“Tonight’s no good for me. Actually this whole week is no good. What about Friday? You gonna be around?”
“Yeah, I’ll....” A car pulls through the open gate out front. When I catch sight of who’s behind the wheel, I damn near drop my phone. The cigarette dangling from the corner of my mouth tumbles to the ground.
“Noah?”
“Hmm?”
I can hear her kid screeching over the sound of cartoons in the background. “I gotta go. I’ll see you Friday,” Natalie says and the line goes dead.
It’s like one of those slow motion scenes in a movie as Tori climbs out of that Audi. My eyes widen as I drink in the sight of her. She’s not really dressed to be driving a car like that, cut off jean shorts, pink flip flops the same shade as the bra strap peeking out beneath her tank top. I force myself to pick my jaw up off the ground.
Her plump lips form a smile as she shoves the sunglasses up into her windblown, blonde hair. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be open today or not.”
Tori sounds exactly the same. She looks exactly the same. Small, compact curves. Tan legs and delicate ankles. Her toenails are painted blood red, but the varnish is chipped in a few spots. I swear to christ I want to drop down to my knees and kiss her pretty little feet. “W-We’re open,” I stutter.
“Thank god. My car has been making some weird noise for a few days. I’ve been meaning to bring it in and have someone look at it, but I’ve been… busy.” Her smile winks out. “I’m not sure what’s wrong. Should I pull it into an empty spot in the garage, o
r just hand you the keys?”
That brief, shining moment of elation vanishes. She still doesn’t have any clue who I am. Tori is here to get her car looked at, not to see me.
Even if she did remember me, which I already know she doesn’t, I look completely different from the guy she knew back in high school. I’m taller, more filled out now. I haven’t bothered to shave for weeks, and I’m covered in tattoos. Her eyes skitter over my exposed shoulder and upper arm. I reach in to grab one of the powder-blue work shirts hanging from a hook inside, and shrug it on to conceal those inked on memories.
I hold my hand out for her keys, and wince at the brief warmth of her skin against mine. It takes everything in me not to grab her, kiss her, make her remember. I’ve got to be in there somewhere. What we had couldn’t have just disappeared into thin air. I know we were young, but it was real. We really loved each other.
But it’s like that old saying—If a tree falls in the forest, and no one’s around to hear it, does it still make a sound?
If I loved Tori with every cell in my body for nearly three years and she can’t remember, did it really happen?
“Can you pop the hood?” The question comes out gruff and harsher than I intended. What the hell is wrong with me? It’s stupid to be mad at her for not remembering. It’s not her fault.
If there’s one of us standing there at fault, it’s me.
She nods, and slips back inside the driver’s seat. The hood springs up, and I prop it open. She comes back around, and I ask her to elaborate on this sound.
Tori growls and purses her lips to blow a raspberry. God, she’s adorable. I can’t help but laugh.
“Sorry, that’s probably not very descriptive,” she says.
“No, it’s… perfect. When did you say it started?”
“Somewhere in North Carolina. I should’ve stopped, but I had to get home as soon as possible. I didn’t have time.” Tori pauses to shake her head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. But I kept going for like five hundred miles, so I probably screwed something up bad. I hope not.”
Ducking under the hood, I peer down at the engine to keep from staring too intently at her. “What were you in such a rush for?”
“My father passed away. I needed to get back in time for his funeral.”
My head whips up to look at her. “He did?”
Tori nods slowly. “Did you know him?”
I let my cheeks puff up with air, and blow it back out slow. Know him? Yeah, I knew Kevin Nichols. The man hated my guts from the second he laid eyes on me. “I’m sorry, Tori. I know you two were close.”
“That’s what I hear.” She smoothes her hair over one shoulder, and looks off in the distance. “I guess you and I knew each other too.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” I say carefully.
“This is going to sound weird, but if you can pretend like we don’t… It’s just easier for me, if that makes sense. It probably doesn’t, but…”
“It makes sense.” I think I manage to keep the anguish out of my voice, and it does make perfect sense. Her stepmom explained it to me over seven years ago, the day she begged me to stop showing up there.
Being confronted by people she didn’t recognize upset Tori. It made her cry and panic. I was making it impossible for her to heal and move forward, so I did the very last thing in the world I wanted to do. I left her alone.
“Thank you, Buck,” she says, her eyes falling on the corner patch of the shirt I’d grabbed.
I open my mouth, about to correct her, but promptly close it again. Tori might not recognize me on sight, but I bet she remembers my name. I’m the idiot that showed up at the hospital repeatedly, even after she made it abundantly clear that she didn’t remember me, and didn’t want to remember me. I’m the nut case that wrote to her for years.
I didn’t stop until her dad told me she had a boyfriend, and to knock it off. About six months ago, I heard from someone in town, who heard from someone else, that she was engaged to be married.
She’s not wearing a wedding band or an engagement ring, but that might not mean anything. Tori never was much for jewelry, which makes all those stupid charms I sent her over the years even more stupid. I bet she threw them in the trash, right along with all those letters.
I should’ve saved the money I spent on those charms for a bracelet I never even had the chance to give her, and spent it on a shrink because there’s something wrong with my damn head. All these years, and she still gets to me this bad? It doesn’t make any sense.
Looking back at her, I force my face into a semblance of neutrality. “How about we pretend like we just met?” I thrust my hand out in her direction, and she takes it. Remember me. Please fucking remember me, babe. “It’s nice to meet you, Tori.”
She gives me a playful smile. “It’s nice to meet you too, Buck.”
There’s a slightly heated look on her face that makes me hope, but it’s gone in a flash, and I force myself to let go of her hand. “Wanna start it up, and I’ll take a listen?”
As soon as Tori disappears behind the raised hood, I rake both hands back through my hair, sucking in a stuttering breath at the same time.
Her car hums to life, startling me. I give my head a little shake to clear it, and turn my ear towards the purr that is a little out of time. I have her rev the engine and the true issue becomes evident.
I walk around and motion for Tori to turn off the car. “Sounds like you need a new exhaust, and probably new plugs.”
A line appears between her eyebrows. “How much will that cost?”
“Not much,” I promise. “But I’m gonna have to order that exhaust. It might take a few days.”
“Okay.” Tori quirks her lips to the side. “Should I just leave it here?”
“You can, and I’ll give you a ride back to your place if you want.”
“I’m sure my stepmom can come pick me up.”
“I don’t mind,” I say fast. “I was just getting ready to close up.”
“Okay. If you’re sure.”
I have her pull into the garage, and she waits while I close and lock the doors. When Tori catches sight of my ride, she skids to a stop. “That’s what you’re taking me home on?”
“Yeah?”
She chews on the corner of her bottom lip. “I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before.”
I turn my face away so she doesn’t see the smile I can’t suppress. She rode on the back of this very bike plenty, and I had her half undressed, bent over the seat of it more than a few times. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Tori. I’m a safe driver.”
“That may be, but my balance sucks now.”
“All you have to do is hang on to me.” I hold the bike helmet out in her direction. “I won’t let you fall.”
Again, I think to myself. I’ll never let her fall again.
Tori pulls her sunglasses down from her head, and tucks them into the purse slung across her body. “What are you going to wear?”
“I’ve got a hard head.” I rap my knuckles against my temple for emphasis, then fit the helmet over her hair gently, and adjust the strap beneath her chin. I’m experiencing a serious case of deja vu as I amble onto my bike, and she takes the spot behind me.
The first time I had to talk her into riding with me too. Her slender arms slide around my torso just as hesitantly as back then. She startles when the engine roars to life beneath us, exactly like when I was sixteen and she was fifteen.
I’m about to start away, when I remember to ask, “Where to?” like I haven’t dropped her off to her place more times than I can count.
She talks loud near my ear to be heard over the engine. Her breath is a warm, silky caress against the side of my neck. Between that and her softness pressed flush to my back, I’m already hard and straining against the fly of my jeans.
Remember me, babe. Please.
Just like that first time, she lets out an alarmed squeak when I rev the engine, and her arms c
lutch onto me in a strangling grip as we take off. A quarter mile up the road, at the first straight shot, I open it up a bit, and she lets loose a long, excited, ear-shattering squeal.
Maybe she doesn’t remember, but I do, and I’m smiling so hard my face hurts.
Chapter Three
Tori
It’s a shame this Buck guy knows me, because he is Hot with a capital H. But I don’t fool with men who knew me from before my accident. It’s too invasive. Sitting across from someone that understands things about me that I can’t comprehend myself is just plain weird, and it’s the biggest reason I moved away in the first place.
Peering over his shoulder at the road opening up in front of us, I try to ignore the solid feel of his midsection beneath my palms. Pressed so close against him, I can’t ignore his scent, soap, cigarettes, and motor oil. The three mingle together in an oddly pleasant way, familiar, although it doesn’t trigger any specific memory. With my chin resting on the back of his shoulder, my mouth is close to the back of his tan neck. I have a strong urge to press my lips against his skin there, to see what he tastes like.
Of course I would never do that for a number of reasons. I’m probably barking up the wrong tree with Buck anyway. I thought maybe I was getting a vibe back there at the garage, but the tattoo of a rainbow I spotted nestled in the midst of that half sleeve tells me I might not be Buck’s type.
Figures.
Not that it matters. I just lost my dad less than a week ago, and broke up with my fiance. I’m still not sure how long I’m sticking around Brockton. This would be the worst time ever to take up with someone new.
Right now I’m choosing not to worry about the future, which feels so uncertain, and the past, which is still mostly murky. For the first time in forever, I’m rooted firmly in the present while warm air washes over my bare arms and legs. The engine roars loud enough to drown out my thoughts as trees and houses whiz past in a blur. I can see the speedometer, and I know we’re not going too fast, but I’m experiencing the sensation of flying. My terror at riding on the back of his motorcycle quickly gives way to exhilaration. It’s still a little scary, but for some reason I feel completely safe with Buck at the wheel.
