Things We Never Got Over

by Lucy Score

  “And then you tried to buy her off,” Nash said.

  I closed my eyes. “I didn’t try to buy her off. I wanted to make sure she was taken care of.”

  And she’d thrown it back in my face.

  “And what part of that sentiment says ‘I don’t care about you’?” Lucian asked.

  “You can’t use cash as a replacement for actually showing up for someone.”

  Nash’s voice was miserable enough that I opened my eyes and looked at him. Really looked at him.

  Is that what he thought I’d done when I’d offered him the lottery money? When I’d all but shoved it down his throat.

  His career in law enforcement had been a sticking point for us. But rather than sit down and talk to him about it, I’d tried to pull his strings with the promise of a pile of cash. Enough that he’d never have to worry or work again. I saw it as taking care.

  “You should have kept the money. Maybe then you wouldn’t have ended up bleeding in a fucking ditch,” I said evenly.

  Nash shook his head. “You still don’t get it, do you, Knox?”

  “Get what? That you’re more stubborn than I am? That if you’d listened to me that carjacking coward wouldn’t have almost ended your life? By the way, Luce, you dig up anything yet?”

  “Working on it,” Lucian said.

  Nash ignored the sidebar. “You don’t get that I’d still put on that uniform. Even if I knew I was going to take another hit tomorrow. I’d still walk into that building your money paid for even if I knew it was my last day on earth. Because that’s what you fucking do when you love something. You show up. Even if you’re pissing your pants scared. And if you two don’t stay the fuck out of police business, or if you even think about going vigilante, I will throw both your asses in a cell.”

  “Agree to disagree,” Lucian said. Waylon’s tail thumped on the arm of the chair.

  “You about done?” I asked, suddenly too tired to fight.

  “About. You wanna do the right thing, you need to tell Naomi the real reason you let her go.”

  “Oh? And what’s the real reason?” I asked wearily.

  “That you’re scared down to your fucking bones that you’ll fall hard and end up like Dad. Like Liza J. That you won’t be able to hold up under the bad.”

  His words landed like arrows zeroing in on a bull’s-eye I didn’t know I was wearing.

  “It’s funny. I used to think my big brother was the smartest guy on the planet. Now, I realize he’s just a delusional fool.” He started for the door, pausing when he got to it. “You could have been happy, man. Not just safe. Happy. Like we used to be.”

  Lucian scooped Waylon onto the floor and followed him out the door.

  When they’d gone, taking my beer and their righteous frustrations with them, I sat in the dark and stared at the blank TV, doing my best not to think about what they’d said.

  I went so far as to start looking for large parcels of land far the fuck away from Knockemout.

  My phone signaled a text.

  Stef: Seriously? I warned you, man. You couldn’t have just not been a selfish dick?

  I tossed my phone aside and closed my eyes. Could it possibly be true that my best efforts to take care of the people I cared about amounted to me pushing a mountain of money between us? Money gave them security, and it protected me.

  The pounding on my door jolted Waylon awake.

  He gave a short sharp bark, then decided the chair was more comfortable and immediately went back to sleep.

  “Go the fuck away,” I called.

  “Open the damn door, Morgan.”

  It wasn’t Nash or Lucian back for round two. It was worse.

  I opened the door to find Naomi’s dad standing there in pajama pants and a sweatshirt. Lou looked pissed. But the bourbon I’d switched to after my last uninvited guests drank all my beer numbed me.

  “If you came here to punch me in the face, someone already beat you to it.”

  “Good. I hope it was Naomi,” Lou said, pushing his way inside.

  I really needed that 1,000 acres.

  “She’s too classy for that.”

  Lou stopped in the foyer and turned to face me. “She is. She’s also too hurt to see the truth.”

  “Why is everyone so obsessed with ‘the truth’?” I asked, using air quotes. “Why can’t people just mind their own damn business and stick to their own truths?”

  “Because it’s easier to see someone else’s. And more fun to kick someone else’s ass when they’ve got their head shoved up it.”

  “I thought you, of all people, would be doing a victory dance over this. You never liked me with her.”

  “I never trusted you with her. There’s a difference.”

  “And I suppose you came here to educate me.”

  “I suppose I did. Someone’s got to.”

  I’d add a moat around my bunker as a last line of defense.

  “I’m forty-fucking-three years old, Lou. I don’t need a father-son moment.”

  “Tough shit. Because that’s what you’re gonna get. I’m sorry that you suffered so much loss so early in life. I’m sorry that your mom died and your dad abandoned you. Liza’s told us bits and pieces. I’m sorry you lost your grandfather just a few years later. It’s not fair. And I can’t blame you for wanting to hide from all that pain.”

  “I’m not hiding. I’m a goddamn open book. I told your daughter what she could expect from me. It’s not my fault she got her hopes up.”

  “That would be true if it weren’t for one thing.”

  I scrubbed my hand over my face. “If I let you tell me the one thing, will you leave?”

  “You didn’t do it because you didn’t care. You did it because you cared too damn much, and it scared you.”

  I snorted into my glass, trying my best to ignore the tightening in my chest.

  “Son, you fucked up big-time,” he continued. “I may be Naomi’s father, and that might bias me, but I know my daughter is one-of-a-kind. A once in a lifetime woman. Just like her mom. And I don’t like what it says about how you feel about yourself that you don’t think you deserve her.”

  I put my glass down. He hadn’t said that I didn’t deserve her. He’d said I thought I didn’t deserve her.

  “Do you deserve Amanda?” I asked.

  “Hell no! Still don’t. But I’ve spent every day of my life since I met her trying to be the kind of man who does. She made me a better man. She gave me the kind of life I never dreamed I’d have. And yeah, we’ve had our rough times. Most of them revolving around Tina. But fact is, I’ve never once regretted sticking.”

  I remained stalwartly silent, wishing I could be anywhere else but here.

  “Sooner or later, you have to accept that you’re not responsible for other people’s choices. Worse, sometimes you can’t fix what’s wrong with them.”

  He looked me dead in the eye when he said it.

  “I’m not responsible for my daughter’s choices or the outcomes of those choices. You’re not responsible for your father’s. But you are responsible for the choices you make. And that includes walking away from the best thing that will ever happen to you.”

  “Look, Lou, this has been a nice chat and all—”

  He clapped me on the shoulder. His grip was solid, firm. “You couldn’t save your mom from an accident any more than you could save your dad from addiction. Now you worry you won’t be able to save anyone else. Or stand losing someone else.”

  My throat was tight, and it burned.

  Lou’s grip tightened. “Somewhere, deep down is a man stronger than your father ever was. I see it. Your grandmother sees it. My daughter sees it. Maybe it’s time you take a look in the mirror.”

  FORTY-ONE

  THE NEW NAOMI

  Naomi

  Knox: Look. I know I could have handled things differently. But trust me. It’s better this way. If you or Waylay need anything, I want to know.

  Knox: Liza probably already
told you, but the security company is installing the alarm at the cottage Saturday. What time is Waylay’s soccer game?

  Knox: Are you okay?

  Knox: Just because we’re not together doesn’t mean I don’t still want you and Waylay to be safe.

  Knox: You can’t avoid me forever.

  Knox: Can’t we be fucking adults about this? It’s a small fucking town. We’re gonna run into each other sooner or later.

  I pried open one bleary eye and peered at my phone screen.

  Satisfied it wasn’t a certain dead-to-me Morgan brother, I swiped to answer. “What?” I croaked.

  “Wakey wakey, Witty,” came Stef’s cheery voice from half a world away.

  I gave a muffled groan in response and rolled over.

  I had the covers pulled over my head in a juvenile attempt to block out the entire world. Unfortunately, it had the unintended consequence of also surrounding me with the scent of him. Sleeping in a bed we’d shared while I’d fallen for the farce was not conducive to anything but a downward spiral.

  If I was going to survive this, I needed to burn these sheets and buy Liza a new set.

  “Judging from your effusive greeting, I’m guessing you haven’t yet dragged your Definitely Getting Over Him Today Ass out of bed yet,” Stef surmised.

  I grunted.

  “You’re lucky I’m not on the same continent as you right now because your time is up,” he chirped.

  “What time?”

  “Your ‘woe is me, I miss my stupid hot fake boyfriend’ time. It’s been five days. The acceptable mourning period is over. You are officially being reborn as New Naomi.”

  Being reborn sounded like a lot of work.

  “Can’t I just wither away as Old Naomi?” Old Naomi had spent the last few days putting on a fake smile for Waylay and library patrons, then spending a few hours a day half-heartedly trying to clean up the wreckage in the cottage. All while avoiding thinking about Knox.

  I was exhausted.

  “Not an option. It is six thirty a.m. your time. Your day starts now.”

  “Why are you so mean?” I groaned.

  “I’m your mean fairy godfather. You have a transformation to begin, my little caterpillar.”

  “I don’t want to be a butterfly. I want to smother in my cocoon.”

  “Tough shit. If you don’t get out of bed in the next ten seconds, I’m bringing in the big guns.”

  “I’m out,” I lied.

  He said something derisive in French. “In case you need a translator, that was French for bullshit. Now, I want you to get your lying ass out of bed and go take a shower because Liza reports that your hair is greasier than the deep fryer at a sports bar on wing night. Then I want you to open that Sephora order I sent you and snap the fuck out of this funk.”

  “I like funks.”

  “You do not. You like game plans and to do lists. I’m giving you both.”

  “Having friends who know you really well is overrated,” I complained to my pillow.

  “Okay. Fine. But I want it on record that you made me do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “You have an eleven-year-old girl looking up to you. Do you really want to teach her that when a boy hurts your feelings, you give up on life?”

  I sat up. “I hate you.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Why can’t I wallow?”

  It was more than hurt feelings, and he knew it. Knox had warned me. He’d told me not to fall for him, not to mistake his actions for real feelings. And I’d still fallen for him. That made me an idiot. At least with Warner, he’d tried to hide his true self from me.

  It was an excuse, not a great one, but an excuse all the same.

  But there was no such excuse with Knox.

  I loved him. For real loved him. Loved him enough that I wasn’t sure I could survive the anguish of being tossed aside.

  “Because all that ‘I’m such an idiot’ and ‘how could I fall for him’ negative self-talk is a waste of time and energy. It’s also setting a shitty example for Waylay, who’s had enough shitty examples to last a lifetime. Get your ass out of bed, take a shower, and get ready to show Waylay how to burn an asshole’s life to the ground.”

  My feet hit the floor. “You’re really good at this pep talk thing.”

  “You deserve better, Witty. I know somewhere deep down you don’t think so. But you deserve a man who’s going to put you first.”

  “I love you.”

  “Love you too, babe. I gotta go. But I want a post-shower, makeover selfie. And I’m emailing you your game plan for the day.”

  From: Stef

  To: Naomi

  Subject: New Naomi Day One

  1. Get your ass out of bed.

  2. Shower.

  3. Makeup.

  4. Hair.

  5. Wardrobe. (I know how much you like checking things off your list)

  6. Breakfast of champions.

  7. Waylay’s soccer practice. Smile. Light up the damn field with your gracious beauty.

  8. Host a spontaneous social gathering. Invite friends, family, and Nash (that part is very important). Look amazing (also very important). Have an actual good time (most important) or fake it till you make it.

  9. Go to bed smug.

  10. Rinse. Repeat.

  With the satisfaction of four items already crossed off my to do list, I ventured downstairs. The rest of the house was still silent.

  Stef knew me too well. And it really was easier to fake a positive attitude when I looked good on the outside.

  There was a fresh pot of coffee waiting for me. I poured generously into a cheery red mug and studied the kitchen while I sipped.

  The room had taken on a new life since the first time I’d been invited inside. It felt like most of the house had. The curtains had not only been opened but washed, ironed, and rehung. Morning sun streamed through clean glass.

  Years of dust and grime had been scraped away, cabinets and drawers of junk purged. Bedrooms closed up for nearly two decades were now full of life. The kitchen, dining room, and sun room had become the heart of a home full of people.

  Together, we’d breathed life back into the space that had gone far too long without.

  I took my coffee into the sun room and stood at the windows, watching the creek catch fallen leaves and usher them downstream.

  The loss was still there.

  The holes left behind by Liza’s daughter and husband hadn’t magically been filled. But it felt to me like there was more surrounding those holes now. Saturday soccer games. Family dinners. Movie nights when everyone talked too much to hear what was happening on-screen. Lazy evenings spent grilling dinner and playing in the creek.

  Dogs. Kids. Wine. Dessert. Game nights.

  We’d built something special here around Liza and her loneliness. Around me and my mistakes. This wasn’t the end. Mistakes were meant to be learned from, overcome. They weren’t meant to destroy.

  Resilience.

  In my opinion, Waylay was already the epitome of resilience. She’d dealt with a childhood of instability and insecurity and was learning to trust the adults in her life. Maybe it was a little easier because she’d never let herself down the way I had. I admired her for that.

  I supposed I could learn from her example on that.

  I heard the shuffle of slippered feet punctuated by the excited tippy-tapping of dog nails on tile.

  “Morning, Aunt Naomi. What’s for breakfast?” Waylay yawned from the kitchen.

  I left my morning moping and returned to the kitchen. “Morning. What are you hungry for?”

  She shrugged and settled on a stool at the island. Her blonde hair was standing up on one side of her head and squished down on the other. She was wearing pink camouflage pajamas and fluffy slippers that Randy and Kitty tried to steal and hide in their dog beds at least once a day.

  “Um. How about cheesy eggs?” she said. “Wow. You look nice.”

  “Thanks,”
I said, reaching for a pan.

  “Where’s Knox?”

  Waylay’s question felt like a blade to the heart.

  “He moved back to his cabin,” I said carefully.

  Waylay rolled her eyes. “I know that. Why? I thought things were good with you guys? You were kissing all the time and laughing a lot.”

  My instinct was to lie. To protect her. After all, she was just a kid. But I’d done so much protecting already, and it just kept blowing up in my face.

  “There’s a couple of things we need to talk about,” I told her as I gathered the butter and eggs from the fridge.

  “I only told Donnie Pacer that he was a dickwaffle because he pushed Chloe and told her she was a shithead loser,” Waylay said defensively. “And I didn’t use the F word because I’m not allowed to.”

  I stood up with a carton of eggs in my hand and blinked. “You know what? We’ll get back to that in a minute.”

  But my niece wasn’t ready to give up her defense. “Knox said it’s good to stand up for people. That it’s up to the strong ones to take care of the ones who need protecting. He said I’m one of the strong ones.”

  Crap.

  I swallowed around the lump in my throat and blinked back the tears that burned my eyes, threatening to ruin my mascara.

  This time the grief wasn’t just for me. It was for a little girl with a hero who didn’t want either one of us.

  “That’s true,” I said. “And it’s a good thing you’re one of the strong ones because I have to tell you some hard stuff.”

  “Is my mom coming back?” Waylay whispered.

  I didn’t know how to answer that. So I started somewhere else instead. “The cottage isn’t infested with bugs,” I blurted out. Randy the beagle jumped at my legs and peered up at me with soulful brown eyes. I leaned down to ruffle his ears.

  “It isn’t?”

  “No, honey. I told you that because I didn’t want you to worry. But it turns out it’s better for you to know what’s going on. Someone broke in. They made a huge mess and took some things. Chief Nash thinks they were looking for something. We don’t know what they were looking for or if they found it.”