Like a Memory(33)

“You should go,” I said, still looking down.

He sighed and I heard him let out a frustrated growl. “I can’t, this isn’t . . . f*ck!” He wasn’t making complete thoughts but I understood every word. I felt it too. Even the curse word at the end. “There’s something there. Something between us. Always has been, since the first time I saw you. But that something is scary as hell. What I have now . . . it’s easy.” His last word trailed off like he had admitted something he was ashamed of.

My heart was already broken but it was shattering as we stood there. We did have something. A connection that drew me to him. Made me want to be close to him. He made my world brighter. I’d thought that was because of my limited experience with guys but he felt it too. It wasn’t just me.

That didn’t change anything though. He wanted easy. I wasn’t easy. Was it because I had been sick? I wasn’t sick anymore. Again, with people seeing me as the sick girl. I hated that. I didn’t want to be labeled that by anyone especially Nate.

“I’m not sick . . . I am clear of any cancer,” I said the words lifting my eyes to meet his. “I have been for almost four years. “

He frowned and studied me a moment. Like he didn’t understand anything I’d just said.

The door behind me opened. I turned to see Eli. “You good?”

He was worried. We’d been out here longer than I expected. Eli had probably been pacing in front of the door waiting on me to return. He was good like that. He hadn’t once treated me like the sick girl. Even when I had no hair and spent my days too sick to keep down food.

“We’re fine,” I assured him.

He didn’t look convinced but he waited a second then reluctantly closed the door. He’d want a complete recap of this and I wouldn’t be able to give it to him. I couldn’t tell him I’d kissed another woman’s fiancé. Because he’d expect me to feel remorse. Admit my fault. And I couldn’t. If it was anyone else, I would, but not Nate. First, he’d been mine, not Octavia’s.

“I know you’re clear of cancer. Why are you telling me that now?”

Because he said I wasn’t easy. He wanted easy. Didn’t he remember what he had said? “You said I was scary and you wanted easy.”

His eyes looked sad as my words sank in. Then he took a step toward me and I didn’t move back this time. I was deciding I might not care about the fact he wasn’t free. I was a hussy. Or at least becoming one.

“That’s not what I meant,” he replied. “My life . . . the way I feel for you is intense. It’ll never be easy.”

“So you want to feel what?”

“Free. Without attachment.”

He wanted to feel nothing. He didn’t want to chance the pain to experience the great. He was a coward. He didn’t love Octavia. He loved how simple it was with her. She was never around and she didn’t seem to want to talk to him much. That wasn’t a relationship. That wasn’t what my parents had. And I wanted what they had. Every girl dreamed of that kind of devotion.

“Then there’s nothing left to say,” I replied.

I should have turned and went back inside then. Left him without saying anything more. Made a grand exit. But I stood there. Because I knew once I walked away that was it. I may never see him again and I just couldn’t let him go yet.

“I’m sorry,” were his choice words.

“Me too, Nate Finlay.” Then I forced my feet to move, my heart to let go and my brain to shut up. Getting inside was vital. I didn’t trust my mouth not to blurt out something I’d regret. Something stupid, like begging him to love me. To just try. That was something he should want to do. Not something I should have to beg for. My mother was the center of my father’s world. They loved us kids but we knew they adored each other. It gave us security and also showed us what the “real thing” was supposed to look like.

One day I’d find a man to love me that way. As much as my heart wished it were Nate, I knew it wasn’t. And that was going to hurt for a very long time.



Nate Finlay

I WAS GOING to end up drinking myself into an early grave. They’d find me dead on the side of the road. Or maybe my liver would fail. Heck, I was in Alabama. There was a good chance I’d say the wrong thing to some guy and he’d blow the top of my head off. Fuck, if I cared.

With that thought, I took another swig from the bottle of Maker’s Mark in my hand. Currently, this was how I dealt with life. When I was sober, I thought about Bliss. Who was I kidding? I was hammered and thought about Bliss. It just hurt less with the numbness the alcohol delivered.

Octavia hadn’t said much about Bliss quitting. Her response when I asked her the next day was “oh, she quit. I’ll replace her soon enough.” She hadn’t even given me the reason. I f*cking knew the reason, but the fact Octavia was keeping it from me pissed me off.

But then everything about Octavia was beginning to piss me off. I was in a state of constant annoyance.

I took another drink. I was parked outside Live Bay. I thought about going inside but figured this bottle and my truck would do just fine for the moment. I didn’t need a crowd to witness this level of low.

When Octavia had left today after hiring some thirty-year-old soccer mom who didn’t have a clue what was going on, I figured I could either go back to Rosemary Beach or I could drink. I chose the drink.