I'll Be Your Blue Sky (Love Walked In #3)(83)

Dev loosened his grip, and Zach turned sideways and crouched in the grass, where he rocked, his fists pressed against his eyes. “What am I doing? What am I doing?”

Dev and I stood watching him. It was as if a space had opened up in the jumble and noise of the night, a doomed, sad empty space with Zach right at the center of it. I thought I’d never seen someone so alone.

“Zach,” I said, gently.

“I’m sorry.” He stood up, his back to us, and began walking to his car, fumbling in his pocket for his keys. “I’ll go. I’ll go and I won’t come back.”

“You can’t drive,” I told him.

“No, I can. I’ll be fine,” said Zach. But when he got to the car, he just stood there with the keys in his hand. I walked up and opened his fingers and took them.

“Come on,” said Dev. “Let’s go inside. You look tired.”

Slowly, Zach turned around. “I am tired,” he said.

“We’ll go inside and call Ian,” I told him. “He’ll come pick you up.”

“Okay,” said Zach, nodding wearily. “Okay, okay, okay, okay.”

I took Zach’s arm and together, with Dev a few steps behind us, keeping watch, we walked into Blue Sky House.





Chapter Twenty-Seven

Clare




The next morning, when Dev and I were in the car on our way to North Carolina, Zach called.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said.

“I’m sorry I hurt you in all the ways I did,” I said.

“It’s okay. Or maybe it’s not totally okay, yet, but it will be. I know you didn’t want to hurt me. You did what you had to do.”

“That’s true.”

“You were right that I’m not like Ian. I can’t let myself turn into a man like him, angry all the time. He let Ro’s leaving wreck him. I think I wanted you to save me from being like him.”

“I don’t think I could have done that, no matter how much I would have wanted to.”

“I don’t know. Maybe not. Maybe I need to do it myself. I know I need to get rid of all this bitterness. And after last night, I feel less mad, so there’s that.”

“That’s a start,” I said. “A good start.”

“But I need to get rid of my hope, too. About us, I mean.” He paused and took a breath. “So I’m asking once and for all: Is there any hope for us?”

I waited for the urge to reassure him, to say whatever would make him happy, but it didn’t come. “No,” I said.

I heard him exhale. “Ouch. But okay. I won’t wait for you, then, not even in the back of my mind.”

“I’m rooting for you, though,” I said. “I always will be.”

“Thanks.” He gave a wry laugh. “Maybe one day, I’ll be able to say the same about you.”

“I’ll understand if you can’t,” I said.

“Yeah, but I probably will.”

“Knowing you,” I said, smiling.

“Hey, you know what else?”

“What?”

“I feel less mad at Ro, too. I didn’t really see that coming, but it’s true.”

“I’m glad.”

“Who knows? I might even look for her.”

“Good luck, Zach,” I said.

“Good-bye, Clare,” said Zach.

*

We couldn’t see Edith’s house from the curvy, pothole-pocked, wood-lined country road, so we parked the car near her mailbox, and I held Dev’s hand, and we walked together down the long gravel driveway. The driveway was narrow, barely one car wide, and the trees stood so thick on both sides that we walked through a twilight dimness. As we got closer, I could see radiant glimpses of green lawn and the aluminum foil shine of the lake through the trees, and just before we got to the spot where the gravel gave way to grass and the world filled with light, Dev said, “It’s always been you, too.”

I smiled and pressed a kiss onto the smooth back of his hand, and we broke free from the trees and were standing in Edith’s yard, dazzled by sun and by the glittering water, and by just being together and there. I might have stood all day with Dev, breathless, blinking in the light, prickles sparking along the insides of my arms, but a dog started barking, and Dev pointed toward the house and said, “Look.”

The house was small and modern, all honey-colored wood and windows, with a stone chimney and a deck wrapping around. An old green Jeep Cherokee was parked on the grass behind it. The front of the house faced the water, but from where we stood, I could see what I thought must be the kitchen door, a screen door at which bounced and spun a white barking mop of dog. For one crazy second, I thought, She’s here. Edith is alive after all and she has a dog.

“Someone’s home,” said Dev.

“I guess someone bought the house after Edith died. Of course, that would have happened,” I said.

“Why don’t we knock?” said Dev. “Maybe the people living here would let us take a look around.”

We walked around the side of the house, climbed the deck steps, and knocked on the front door.

A man answered, elderly, tall and thin, with the kind of pure white hair you know used to be blond. He wore khaki pants, white sneakers, and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up.