That's the Way I Loved You

by Carrie Aarons

  I shake my head, glancing over at her. “Not at all. They’re good kids, Addy. It was nice to spend some time with them.”

  Her hands reach out, twisting a lock of my hair in a motherly fashion. “I’m worried you’re working yourself into the ground.”

  Chuckling, I tell her the truth. “If I don’t, someone else who will, will just come along and take my job. It’s a grind. At home, I spend about sixty to seventy hours a week working. Perry works even longer hours than I do.”

  And unlike my friends in Manhattan, who all compete to see who works the longest and can resist the burn out, Adeline frowns.

  “That’s not something to brag about, Savvy. You’re an excellent storyteller, we’ve all always known that. But if this is just a glimpse into your life, it makes me sad. You’re so young, so much younger than you think. You should be traveling and falling in love with everything around you. Thinking about your life ahead, and how you want to fill it with joy. Does this give you joy? Does Perry working eighty-hour weeks give you joy?”

  If I needed any confirmation that my siblings were pulling for me to fall back in love with Jason while I was here, this was it.

  “So, what you’re implying is that I need to come back to Hale and end up in Jason Whitney’s bed to be happy?” I raise an eyebrow at her.

  Adeline has the decency to blush. “That’s not what I’m saying, although it is my wildest hope. But no, what I want for you is a life full of meaningful relationships and soul-deep happiness. I may have days where I want to rip my hair out and scream at my children, or bitch at my husband for leaving dirty dishes in the sink, but at the end of the day, I’m so happy. There is no other life I’d rather be living.”

  “How do you know? You don’t see me in my life,” I fire back.

  She sighs, swiping a thumb across my jaw like Mom used to do to all of us. “Because, Savannah, I remember the light that used to shine in my little sister’s eyes, and I don’t see that at all anymore. You may be content, secure, but you’re not happy. Whether it’s here or there, with your Perry or alone or with someone entirely new … I, we, just want you to be happy.”

  Adeline rises from the couch. “Anyways, I’m glad you were able to spend time with the kids. They were really excited about it. We’ve missed you.”

  She disappears into another room, or maybe upstairs with Brad, leaving me to let myself out.

  Why is it that I can step foot back in this freaking town and question everything about myself?

  Because these people are your mirrors, and they’ll always show you the things you’re avoiding looking at, the little voice whispers in my ear, and in the back of my mind, I know it’s true.

  Family is always going to know you best, even if you want to hate them for it.

  17

  Jason

  The chips clank against the table, cards shuffling in our hands.

  We all tell each other that this is just a friendly game of poker, that it’s just a night for guy friends to get together, but we’re all bullshit liars. Each one of us has about two beers and a competitive streak gnawing at our guts. It’s all for bragging rights and chump change, no one ever wins anything significant. But to claim the twenty-dollar pot and talk up our ego around town until the next poker night, we all become teenage boys comparing our junk sizes.

  Noah, Jenks, Beau, and I sit around the table that Jenks purchased at a yard sale over two years ago. It smells like cigarettes and mothballs, but playing on an actual poker table is better than playing on a folding table in Beau’s garage, so here we are.

  “Deal ’em,” I tell Jenks, who has been shuffling the cards needlessly for five minutes now.

  “You just want to redeem yourself. Folding the first two rounds? Rookie move, Jay,” Beau taunts me.

  “I’m not giving you assholes my quarters over shit hands.” I flip him off.

  Noah takes a sip of beer. “Per usual, Jay won’t give in to anything that won’t go his way.”

  He’s goading me, has been all night, and we both know it ain’t about poker. He’s pissed that I’m making no headway with his sister, but little does he know that I attacked her mouth the other night with mine.

  And ever since, she’s been avoiding me.

  We haven’t worked on the house in three days, and I haven’t seen Savannah anywhere. She’s either holed up inside the apartment above Rudy’s, since I heard she’d been renting it, or somewhere else, because Hale isn’t big enough for me to not run into her.

  And I wasn’t going to work on the house without her. It was my mission to keep her in Hale as long as possible, not book her plane ticket back to New York.

  Plus, I’ve been out at the winery quite a lot. Shit, I slept on the couch in my office two nights ago because I was so busy making up the posters and menus for opening weekend next week. It’s officially April in Texas, which means the weather goes from rainy and bipolar to a hundred degrees in the span of a nightfall. We’ve been cleaning out the tasting rooms, setting up the tent in the back vineyard, pulling the tables and chairs from storage and just putting every finishing touch on things.

  And by we, I mean me and my very short list of staff members. I only have four full timers, one sommelier, two cooks, my customer service/everything else crisis handler, and the lead guest experience manager who runs the tasting room. The rest of my help is part-time or seasonal.

  We’re kicking off opening weekend with a huge festival; a full lineup of bands, sale on all of our wines, two private parties thrown in there, and a special six-course dinner that is pay-ahead and limited to fifty people.

  I also may be avoiding thinking of any of my personal shit going on, which is why I’ve been working myself to the bone. Sleep hasn’t come easy, and when it does, I only dream of Savannah and that kiss. Of her saying things to me that she will never say again.

  So work it is.

  We play a hand, which I lose again, and then Jenks goes over to his basement fridge to replenish our beers.

  “Did I tell you guys that Nancy wants another baby?” Jenks pops the tops with a bottle opener and hands them out.

  “Another? You’ve got three already!” I exclaim, befuddled.

  Jenks shrugs. “But they’re all so dang cute. She said four would even us out perfectly.”

  “Or put you in a mental institution.” Beau shakes his head. “I only have two and I have no idea how you handle a brood that outnumbers you.”

  “It’s chaos, but it’s kind of nice. Like some days, I think my brain is going to fall out of my ears because one of them has asked me about sixty thousand questions, but then they hug me and it’s totally worth it.”

  Noah smiles, sipping from his beer. “I know what you mean. Hope wants about six more, and I’m like ‘who is going to pay for all of these kids,’ but I don’t really care either. The love, man … it’s unlike anything else.”

  “You’re all suckers.” I chuckle.

  Though, I’d like kids of my own someday. I always thought it would happen sometime down the line, when I was with Savannah, but the older I get, the more I realize that the “down the line” time is now. I’m thirty, and not getting any younger, and I have this dream of being able to throw a baseball around with my son.

  “You seen Sav this week?” Noah asks.

  His voice is casual, but I know this conversation is about to be anything but.

  I shrug, doing this non-committal noise.

  “That’s a yes, then.” Jenks snorts, dealing the cards.

  “She’s only been here two weeks, and I found him whistling in The Whistlestop the other day.” Beau rolls his eyes.

  “So, you’ve slept together, then.” Jenks surmises.

  I cough, sputtering over my beer. “Dude, seriously? Noah is sitting right there.”

  Noah gives Jenks a disgusted look. “That’s my sister.”

  “Plus, not that it’s any of your business, but no, we haven’t. She has a boyfriend. And I … I don’t know that I want
her back.”

  They all start cackling. It’s a good thing I didn’t tell them about the kiss, because then my last sentence would sound even more pathetic.

  “We all know that’s a lie. But aside from that, she just seems so different, man.” Noah shakes his head.

  “We’re all different,” Jenks agrees.

  Beau snorts. “You still have the same hat you wore in middle school, and won’t drive down the street that flooded on your eighth birthday ’cause you’re still pissed at it.”

  Jenks shoots him a glaring look. “Screw off. I don’t like change.”

  “None of us do, it’s why we live in the same sleepy town we grew up in,” I say.

  “Says the guy who has ordered thousand-dollar parts for his beat-up old trucks instead of junking that old heap and getting a new one.” Noah chuckles under his breath.

  I wag my finger at him. “Don’t you go insulting Betsy, now.”

  “Yeah, that’s the man’s truck. And we won’t get started on how you won’t marry Hope because you think it’ll change something. Talk about afraid of change.” Jenks raises an eyebrow in his direction.

  Noah rolls his eyes at the sheriff. “Whatever. All I’m saying is, no one seems to be able to figure her out. She is … cold. Which I’m not used to with Savannah. She used to be the most compassionate of us all. She was the storyteller, the one who’d grill you for every detail and try to mend the broken hearts or souls. And sometimes I see little glimpses of that, but then she tucks it back away.”

  “Would you be okay if what happened to her happened to you?” Jenks asks in all seriousness.

  We all look at him, a little surprised he’s taking up for Savvy.

  “What?” He looks incredulous. “First, her childhood sweetheart loses everything they’ve both been working toward, and she’s forced to become a nurse overnight. I love you, Jay, but you were a cold-hearted bastard those months after your injury. And then, just as she’s coping with your dream going down the drain, her mother passes. Sorry, Noah, no offense meant. It’s just … I could see why she bolted.”

  We’re all quiet for a minute, and then Noah pipes up. “Honestly, I never thought about it that way, but you’re kind of right. It’s a lot for anyone to handle, much less an eighteen-year-old girl.”

  “If you’re telling me it’s my fault, I already know that,” I grumble.

  Beau shakes his head. “No one is saying that. We’re just looking at it from the other side.”

  I swing my head his way, my jaw almost unhinging, but Noah beats me to it. “Hold on just one damn minute. Are you telling me that you’re siding with my sister? After all these years of cursing her name and threatening mutiny if she ever came back, you suddenly see her point?”

  “I’m a rational man, I could see how difficult that could be. Plus, I’ve got daughters now. I’d want them to heal for as long as they needed if something that tragic happened to them.”

  I’ve spent a lot of time mad at myself, mad at the world, and mad at Savannah. Shit, I probably eat the emotion fury for breakfast. In the last ten years, I’ve become sullen, ground down my molars, and rarely smile if it’s not for someone I truly love and appreciate.

  Maybe the guys are right. Maybe it’s time to let this all go, to sit Savvy down and really listen to her. Without defensiveness, without my own bruised ego, there could be a discussion and a way to move on.

  Even though I told them I didn’t know if I wanted her back, they could see through it in seconds.

  If there was a way that she and I could forgive our past, then I could make one last-ditch effort to show her that she belongs with me.

  18

  Savannah

  A knock sounds at the door just as I’m finishing a round of emails to the editing staff on continuity, direction, and overall arch of the episodes I’ve written.

  People think my job ends at just penning the story for the show, but in reality, I’m behind the scenes twenty-four seven making sure that my brainchild goes off without a hitch. If I get video playbacks of the scenes and I don’t like how the actors portrayed it, I’m going to say something. Of course, this is much harder being in Texas rather than on location in New York, because everything is delayed.

  It’s only a few more weeks, I have to keep reminding myself. Although, who knows. I’ve almost been here for a month now, and in the last week, Jason and I have done nothing on the house. I haven’t even been out there. I’m so afraid to face it, to face him, after our fight and the kiss. It’s going to be so stiflingly awkward and forced, and he might try to talk to me about it when all I want to do is ignore the fact it ever happened.

  So, we’re at a standoff, and I have no clue whether he’s been out there to fix it up. Although, why would he do that? He’s the one who let it fall into disrepair for years, for God knows what reason. So, if it isn’t my acceleration of the project, it’s not like he’d go out there to work on it.

  My white fluffy open-toed slippers shuffle across the floor of my makeshift apartment as I go to answer the door.

  Cecily stands there, bright and cheery in a yellow sundress, two hulking books in her hands.

  “Hey!” She bends to kiss my cheek, and I smile, because she’s just … so herself.

  We’ve bumped into each other in town a few more times, and she always says we should get together. The sentiment is nice, but I just … I don’t know how to be around my old friends here. I feel like I’m living an out-of-body experience, like basic human functions are hard to do. I feel like an actor, walking around focusing too hard on what my arms are doing instead of just being natural.

  It’s not that I don’t want to open up, to smile and laugh with them, I just feel like an alien.

  “Hey, how are you? What time … isn’t it a workday?” I ask, moving to check my wrist and realizing I haven’t put my watch on.

  Now that I think about it, I haven’t put my watch on in a couple of days. It’s one of the electronic ones that pairs with my phone, so I get all of my updates and notifications no matter where I go. But since I’ve been here, I’ve been disconnecting, and it feels …

  Spectacular.

  I didn’t even realize I was falling into the slow way of life that Texas exudes until right this minute.

  “Hank said I could knock off early, we don’t have many patients today.”

  Cecily works as the receptionist for the only doctor in town. Hank Wright works out of an old Victorian house, and the bedrooms are his patient rooms. Ceci keeps his schedule, acts as a nurse sometimes, and generally keeps the whole operation legally running.

  “Oh, okay. Um, come on in.” I invite her in to my temporary home.

  Even though I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of living above Rudy’s when I have a three-thousand-foot penthouse waiting for me in Manhattan, I’ve kind of come to love this place. It’s cozy and smells of coffee at all times. It’s a solitary space with exposed brick and just enough nostalgia creeping in at its corners to keep me inspired at all times. This apartment is the perfect writer’s nook, and I won’t lie and say I won’t miss it when I go.

  “Can I get you a drink? What are those?” I ask, pointing to the pile in her arms.

  “I’ll take some sweet tea, if you have some.” She knows I do. It’s the first thing I stocked up on at the grocery store, because they just don’t make it like the same on the East Coast.

  Taking two mismatched glasses from the cabinet above the small stove, I fill them with ice and cool amber tea.

  “I brought our old yearbooks,” she says giddily from behind me.

  When I turn, I find her seated on the floor between the couch and the coffee table; the books laid out in front of her.

  Too curious to be annoyed at revisiting the past, I grab the drinks and make my way to her.

  “Oh my God, where did you find these?” I marvel, looking at the dusty covers.

  “I dug them out of the basement. It’s been a while since I looked at them, and I just t
hought, what the hell. You coming back here has made me so reminiscent of the old days. Our glory days!” She claps her hands like the cheerleader she once was.

  Folding myself so I can sit next to her, I hand her the tea as she thumbs through the pages.

  “Stop!” I say, spotting a familiar picture.

  It’s from our junior year, and Cecily stands next to my locker in her cheer uniform. I’m leaning on the other side, glancing up at Jason with practically heart shapes for my eyes. Around us are our friends, people from the baseball team, or my student council government buddies. We’re all laughing; the kind of expressions that only teenagers with no adult responsibilities could have.

  “Gosh, we all look so young.” She breathes, tracing our faces. “If I could only still fit into that uniform, Thomas would have a field day.”

  That makes me snicker. “What else is in here?”

  We flip through the pages together, laughing at our cheesy headshots, and my braces phase, which was just ending junior year. We find Cecily’s cheerleading picture as a co-captain, and a picture of us hugging in front of the pep rally banner.

  Then we come across the one picture I’ve looked at dozens of times.

  “Aw, will you look at that.” Ceci sighs dreamily.

  It’s a huge square photo at the top right of the page, the one marked “junior prom.” I’m in the special pink glittery dress Mama took me all the way to Abilene to pick out, my hair piled on my head in curls. Around my wrist is a matching pink corsage, and my smile couldn’t stretch any wider if I’d tried.

  Because … I’m in Jason’s arms. His face is still boyish in the picture, compared to the man I’ve encountered now, and he’s in his rented black tux that gapped on his still-developing frame.

  And he’s looking down at me, during that slow dance to “Halo” by Beyoncé, as if I painted the whole night’s sky. We’re looking at each other like two people who could power the world’s energy with our love.