I broke her heart. I broke her heart in the worst way I could, and the fact she didn’t tell me to fuck right off is more than I really deserve. It’s more than I would’ve given me.
A box of screws falls from the passenger’s seat onto the floorboard. Penn’s voice calls from the other side of the truck, giving me shit about my state of mind. I flip him the bird before going back to rustling through the middle console.
I can’t make things not have happened. I can’t undo actions taken years ago.
My hand stills over a packet of spearmint gum. Eyes resting on the little tree-shaped air freshener, I sigh.
I wouldn’t undo them. Even if I could. Even if it would have saved her the heartbreak.
My shoulders slump as I back out of the cab.
“All that for some gum?” Penn asks, looking at the packet in my hand.
I deliberately open a stick and shove it in my mouth. “Want one?”
“Just in case you poisoned it, I’m good.” He stretches his arms overhead. “So can we call off today and go see Neely?”
“No. Both of you go back to work.” The gum crackles as I put way too much effort into chewing. “Now.”
“You wanting to go alone?” Matt cracks.
“Why do I like either one of you again?” I look from one to the other.
“Because I’m your brother and saved you from drowning when you were ten. And we keep Penn around . . .” Matt looks at our best friend and shrugs. “Why do we keep you around?”
“I’m assuming so you can get pussy. So many come at me I can’t possibly handle them all.”
“How does that shit taste comin’ outta your mouth?” Matt asks.
I watch the two of them spar back and forth. Despite the near-constant jabbing between each other, Penn’s refusal to ever show up on time, and Matt’s perpetual state of looking for something he’s lost, they’re the two I can count on.
As I realize they have stopped bantering and are both looking at me, I frown. I can’t do this all day. “I’m going for lumber,” I tell them.
“Is that what we’re calling her now?” Penn tries to bite back a laugh and fails. Matt joins in, and their entertainment at my expense grates my nerves.
“If you need anything,” I say, ignoring them, “you have about two minutes to tell me.”
“I need about a dozen two-by-fours,” Matt says, trying to wave Penn off. “And a couple boxes of nails.”
“I figured we were going to come up short.”
Penn digs a water bottle from the cooler in the back of my truck. “That’s what you get for letting Matt do the calculations.”
They chat about something quietly as I busy myself with picking up the screws on the floorboard of my truck. It would be a completely normal day if I didn’t have a knot winding in the pit of my stomach so tight I can feel it radiating through my core.
By the time I get the screws back in the box and the passenger’s door shut, there’s a peace in the air. The bantering has stopped, and a stillness settles across the lawn.
Matt wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he gazes over the forest below. “Can you imagine walking out your door in the morning to take a piss and then seeing this?”
“I don’t normally piss out my front door, but I see your point,” I say, admiring the acres of forest surrounding the building site.
“Well, I do and I get it.” Penn takes a few steps in front of us. “Nice chunk of land.”
“Nah, it’s more than that,” I say. I can imagine the yard full of toys, the house smelling like roast beef. “It’s the perfect spot for a home.”
Matt takes a deep breath and works his neck back and forth. “You know, I’ve been thinkin’ . . .”
Penn groans. “Thanks for the warning.”
“I’m being serious,” Matt protests. “Hear me out, will ya?”
“We’re listening,” I tell him, preparing myself. Absolutely anything in the world could topple out of his mouth. Nothing would surprise me. A few things would irritate me, and I have a feeling he’s headed that direction.
Matt pauses, possibly to get his courage up, and takes another drink. His lips pull together as he screws the top back on. “We’re getting old, guys. Maybe it wouldn’t be bad, having a house like this with a woman and—”
“Did you just suggest monogamy to me?” Penn gasps. “Do you know me at all?”
I give them both a look. “This day gets stranger by the minute.”
“Fuck you, guys.” Matt chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m just saying maybe there’s something to be said for predictable pussy.”
Shoving away from the truck, I laugh. “That’s an oxymoron. Pussy is never predictable.”
Matt nods. “Yeah. You’re right. Bad choice of words. What about consistent pussy?”
I was right. I know where he’s going with this, and I’m not about to let him get there without a few attempts at redirection.
“Consistent pussy means a consistent headache,” I say.
Penn shrugs. “I don’t know what either of you are talking about. If there’s one thing in my life that’s consistent, it’s women.”
Matt’s head swings side to side. “You know what I’m getting at.”
“Do we?” I raise a brow. It’s more of a warning than a question.
“I do, and I think Matt better tread lightly.” Penn points a finger his way. “If he kills you, I’m helping bury your body.”
Matt and I have a standoff—him trying to make a point and me trying to deflect it. I have no clue why he thinks today of all days is the day to go there, but I refuse. He doesn’t agree.
“Seriously. Do you ever wonder what might’ve been?” Matt asks, ignoring my glare.
I twist so we’re face-to-face. I don’t want anything getting lost in translation. “No,” I state. “I don’t. If you have to wonder why I don’t, you better walk your ass away before I knock you upside the head.”
Matt slumps as my point sinks in.
“What might have been wasn’t for a damn good reason. It wasn’t and it won’t. How pretty she is or how long we dated or how many fucking sparks flew this morning doesn’t make any difference.” I look at my brother and then at my friend. “Get it?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry,” Matt says, his eyes falling to his boots.
“I figured you might be.” Glancing up the path, I succumb to the realization that if I stay here with these two, all we’re going to do is rehash the past. I can’t do that until I sort it out in my head. I need to go now. “I’m going to town. I’ll be back.”
“Got ya.” Penn tosses his empty bottle in the back of my truck. “Sorry we’re assholes.”
“I know.” Making my way to the driver’s side, I pop open the door. “I’ll go by Mucker’s and bring us back some lunch.”
“Excellent peace offering,” Matt says. “I’ll make sure I get the front done today just to be nice.”
“Whatever.” I climb inside the cab as they back away from the bed.
I sit, engine off, watching my friends make their way back to the jobsite, and I kind of regret biting their heads off. It was them just being them. They’re always jackasses, but at the end of the day, I can’t blame them.
Everyone was devastated when things between Neely and me ended. We were as much a part of Dogwood Lane as the train tracks through the middle of town. Baseball captain and elite gymnast. The all-American couple who would have a slew of babies if anything were right and fair in the world. Turns out, there’s nothing right or fair about the world at all.
For reasons both good and bad, Neely changed who I am in every capacity. I don’t think about her every day anymore. But when I see a ditch full of tiger lilies on a country road in the summer or find myself arguing to some unknowing soul that cheerleading is a sport, I think of her. Then let it go. It’s all I can do. I had to let her go for her own good. I had to let her memory go for mine.
I start the engine, and as the makeshift ice packet falls to the floor, I slam my truck in reverse and back out of the driveway.
CHAPTER FOUR
NEELY
She goes into this half-hour-long dissertation about how adorable her granddaughter looks in her flamingo outfit,” Mom says, relaying a part of her day. “I don’t understand why people do that. It’s not like I’m going to agree her family is the prettiest bunch of girls on the planet when I happened to birth the actual one myself.” She looks over her shoulder and smiles. “Maybe next time I’ll whip out pictures of you.”
“Um, I’m not in a onesie anymore.” I laugh. “I don’t think it’s a direct comparison.”
“I bet I have some of those around here somewhere . . .”
“Oh, I bet you do. About fifty million.”
She chuckles, going back to the chicken pasta dish she’s stirring on the stove. The kitchen is flooded with the warmth of a home-cooked meal. My mouth waters, ready to eat more than my share to cap off a long-but-not-altogether-unbearable day. I might go as far as to say today was halfway enjoyable.
After the Dogwood Café incident with Dane, I slid into the bank to see Mom and ended up spending an hour chatting with her and her coworkers. They reminded me how I used to call Mom at work at three thirty when I got home from school and proceeded to keep calling to ask a million questions every few minutes until she got off an hour later. Apparently, I was quite the handful as a child. The term they used was “distracting.” They don’t know what distracting is.
Distracting is the way a certain pair of green eyes refuse to leave your brain even after the air clears of his cologne.
“Neely.”
“What?” I ask, jumping at the intrusion.
“What?” Mom’s brow furrows.