Kiss and Don't Tell(118)

“Well, go back to your fucking place. Jesus,” I mutter as I take a seat on the other end of the couch, letting out a solid breath.

He’s right, though—what a stressful few hours. I feel as though a huge burden has been lifted off my shoulders. Does it suck that I won’t be going back to Banff this summer? Fuck yes, but in the grand scheme of things, maybe it’s best. Getting my shit together before the beginning of the season is what I need, and that includes solving things with Winnie. The buzz of my phone makes me jump. Surely Josh isn’t texting me already.

Dad: Heard you spoke to Josh. How was it?

Pacey: Sucks about his cancer. And I don’t know, better to have that stuff said, I guess. It will probably take me a while to forgive the way he treated you, but that’s normal.

Dad: It is. Glad you reached out, Pacey. You’re a good man and I’m proud of you.

Pacey: Thanks, Dad. Appreciate that. Call you and Mom soon, okay?

Dad: Sounds good. Love you.

Pacey: Love you too. Send my love to Mom.

Posey is ordering us food and Hornsby and Holmes are both pouring beers in the kitchen for everyone as I put my phone away. I need to let Mom and Dad know about my neck at some point, but that’s for another day.

“So now that we know what the hell is wrong with you, we have to focus on Winnie,” Taters says.

“Yeah.” I smooth my hand over my forehead. “Why does the physical therapy and schedule Doc will put me through feel like a walk in the park compared to what I’m going to have to do to win Winnie back?”

“Because that will be a breeze. Playing with emotions, convincing someone they’re the one for you . . . trust me, that’s not fucking easy.” Taters directs his attention out the window, clearly struggling with the pain of losing his girl.

“Still nothing from Sarah?”

“Not sure I really want anything from her at this point. She’s done with me and I think I have to accept that. I think I’m holding on to the past, when maybe she’s right and we outgrew each other. And my mom, who’s friends with her on social media, said she went away for the weekend with some guy.”

“Shit, man. I’m sorry.”

“I think it’s what I needed. Her moving on. I’ve been in limbo, I think. For so many years, I’ve never looked at another girl. Never thought about sex with another woman, but now . . . suddenly I’m allowed to, and that’s weird. It’s as though I’ve been given permission, and I hadn’t felt that it was real. But now it is. Now it is.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Is that what it was like for Winnie in some way? Despite being so hurt by Josh, was she also not quite sure she could pursue someone else?

“But enough about me. What’s your approach with Winnie?”

The boys all filter into the living room at the same time.

“We need to ease her into conversation,” Hornsby says. “Let’s be honest, she’s not going to respond to phone calls at this point. Our best bet is text message. Also, do you have her address?”

I shake my head and then say, “But . . . I think I can get it. Her best friend Max might trade me info. He’s dying to get Ian’s phone number. I’m pretty sure he’d give up Winnie’s address for that.”

“Then do it,” Hornsby says. “Because you’re going to be sending her shit.” He rubs his hands together. “Fuck, I’m excited. We’re getting our girl back.”

“My girl,” I correct him. “We’re getting my girl back.”

“Whatever.” He holds out his hand. “Let me see your phone.”

“You’re not texting her.”

“No, you fuck, I’m going to draft a text. The first one has to be important.”

“He’s right,” Posey says. “The initial contact after a break is the most important. We have to think on this.”

I pull out my phone and open up a new text, but I don’t put in her contact information just yet, in case of an accidental send. I hand the phone over to Hornsby, who holds it out and starts typing away.

“Share with the group,” Taters says. “Read out loud.”

“Okay.” He clears his throat. “‘Hey, sexy ass—’”

“I would never say that to her.”

Hornsby looks over his shoulder. “Maybe that’s the problem.”

I grab the phone from him. “That’s not the problem.”

Taters takes the phone from me and starts typing. “‘Hey, Winnie boo-boo—’”

“Or that,” I yell. “What the hell is wrong with you two?”

Posey takes the phone this time and starts typing while saying, “‘What’s up, Winnie? Daddy misses you.’”

We all groan, and to my surprise, Holmes steps up and grabs the phone.

He spends a few silent seconds typing away and then he tosses the phone on the coffee table before reclaiming his seat in the chair.

As a collective, we all lean over the coffee table to read what he wrote.

I read it out loud. “‘Hey, Winnie, I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from, but I wanted to make sure you got back home safely. And I also wanted to apologize for what happened the other night. There’s no excuse for my actions. All I can do is apologize, and I plan on doing that, over and over, until you feel comfortable enough to accept that apology.’” We all look up at Holmes and sit back.