It takes a lot of energy to put the truck in drive and pull away.
I take the corner around Crave and coast down Beecher Street, my thoughts still on Bluebird Hill. Normally when I let my brain wander and it unsurprisingly lands on Hadley, I end up breaking something or wanting to. Today, not so much. I almost feel … at peace.
The only thing I’ve ever really wanted out of life was Hadley. No matter how much I tell myself I’m wrong for her even though she’s perfect for me, or that I could fill her spot in with another face, I can’t. It was laughable when I tried.
Living in my skin has been a complicated adventure. The only thing I’ve learned so far in my life is this: my best usually isn’t good enough. I don’t know what all that says about me, but it’s true. I’m a guy without a real career, without a real care to have one. I’ve botched every important moment in my life, and I can’t ask for any favors, and I shouldn’t be trusted with any either.
My wipers switch on as it begins to sprinkle again. Crank is on my right. Walker and Peck are in the side lot, inspecting a piece of farm equipment. I throw the transmission in neutral and rev the engine. My brother flips me off.
With a chuckle, I hit the button on my steering wheel to pick up an incoming call.
“Hey, Blaire,” I say.
“Am I on speaker?”
“Why? You have something juicy to tell me?”
“No, asshole. I just like to understand the audience before I speak.”
I roll to a stop sign and wave a truck hauling logs through. “You’re such a lawyer, you know that?”
“Are you avoiding my question for a reason?”
Hitting the gas, I laugh. “I’m alone. Just heading home for a few before I go to work.”
“Where have you been?”
“Why?”
I get situated in my seat, resting my elbow on the door. Swiping at my bottom lip with my thumb, I find myself doing something I don’t do a lot—grin for no reason.
“I was just curious,” she says. “Don’t answer if you don’t want, especially if you were doing something with Cross that’s going to result in a call later asking how to deal with a situation.”
“Oh, come on. When’s the last time that actually happened?”
She laughs. “Let’s think. I believe it was when Peck ‘borrowed’ the tractor from an unsuspecting farmer.”
“But that had nothing to do with me.” I laugh, shaking my head, as I pull into my driveway. “That’s all Peck.”
“Um, if I remember correctly—”
“You’re a lawyer. You remember whatever version of events best fits your argument.” I flip the engine off. “What are you doing today?”
“Working. Although I’m considering leaving for lunch today.”
“Wow. Living on the wild side.”
“Shut it,” she says. “It’s hard to get out once you’re here.”
“And to think you spent all that money on a degree to do that.”
“Hang on a sec.”
She sticks me on hold. I grab my phone and get out of the truck. The mist is thick. You can see the water droplets falling lazily to the ground.
These are my favorite days. They remind me of when I was young and Mom would open all the windows and cook something amazing. Dad would come get me and make me go to the garage to work on something. I’d bitch and moan at first, but by the time Mom called us in for dinner, I wouldn’t mind the day so much.
I kick a rock off the driveway as Blaire comes back to the line.
“Sorry,” she says. “Promise me something.”
“What’s that?”
“Never be the guy who gets married and becomes useless.” She sighs. “A partner in the firm got married a few months ago, and it’s starting to ruin my life.”
“Bruce? Isn’t he like sixty?”
“Fifty-two, but that’s not the point. The point is he’s had this amazing career, he’s one of the smartest men I know, and he gets married, and then all of a sudden, he’s worthless. I just had to remind him that he doesn’t pay my bills or sleep in my bed. He needs to direct his inquiries elsewhere.”
Bursting out laughing, I lean against the truck. “It’s amazing you have any friends at all.”
“Who said I have friends?” She laughs. “I am calling my baby brother, after all.”
“I’m the last resort, huh?”
“I wouldn’t say that. You’re just the only one I call for reasons other than to make sure they’re alive.”
“Reasons like …?” I prod.
The line goes quiet. Then she sighs. Then she clicks on her keyboard.
“Hey, Blaire.”
“Yeah?”
“I actually have shit to do today.”
“Sorry,” she groans. “I just … You know the guy I was telling you about?”
I start to answer her seriously. I should answer her seriously. Blaire doesn’t talk about men—not to me, not to my brothers, not to anyone. If she dates at all, it’s news to me. But hearing her all tripped up over this guy she met while on a vacation my brothers and I made her take in Savannah a few weeks ago has been nothing short of hysterical.
“I’m having a hard time remembering which guy you’d be talking about,” I joke.
“Holt. The guy from Savannah.”
I chuckle. “Of course, I remember. He’s the only guy I think you’ve ever mentioned. I was starting to think you were batting for the other team.”
“You know what? You’re a jerk.”
“Anyway …”
“Anyway,” she goes on. “He wants me to come down for a long weekend again.”
“And …?”
She groans. “Do I go?”
“How the fuck should I know?”
“I mean, if I go, does that mean something?”
“Yeah,” I deadpan. “It means you want to be fucked.”
“Machlan!”
“What? You asked.”
She groans again, but there’s a little chuckle laced in there that makes me smile. Blaire doesn’t lighten up much. Everything is cut and dry with her. Right or wrong. Clean or dirty. She doesn’t have fun like Walker. She doesn’t do relationships like Lance. And she doesn’t blow smoke up people’s asses like I do. So to hear her all fucked up over a guy is pretty fantastic.
“Well,” she says, “I kind of do.”
“Blaire!”
“What?” If Blaire was capable of giggling like a normal girl, this would be a giggle. “It’s been a while.”
I shove off the truck. “I don’t want to hear about your sex life.”
“Good because it would be a boring story. I’m not like you guys.”
“I love how you think I’m some kind of whore.”
“Aren’t you?”
“No. That was Lance before Mariah came around. I’ve always been more of a discriminate fuck.”
“Speaking of, I heard Hadley was around.”
“Yeah …” I sigh, reaching for my back pocket.
The chew can nestles in my palm. My thumb beats a rhythmic tap on the lid that takes the edge off my exposed nerves.
“How’s that going?” Blaire’s tone is softer now, knowing this is dangerous territory. “I know it’s hard for you when she’s around.”
I slide the can in my pocket again. “It’s okay this time, I think.”
“Really?”
“I don’t know. Maybe? We talked a little today, and there was no bloodshed. That’s a step in the right direction, right?”
“What do you think changed?”
Good question.
Walking to the planters that line both sides of the porch, I look at Mom’s rose bushes. She used to keep them pruned perfectly, but I don’t. I leave them there because I can’t rip them out, but I don’t take care of them. They take care of themselves. They stretch opposite ways for sunlight and dig deeper when they need more nutrients, I guess.
“Maybe,” I say, wondering how insane this is going to sound, “we realized we’re gonna have to figure out how to breathe the same air. I mean, our roots are so tangled that we can only dig deeper, you know?”
“No.” She laughs. “I don’t. Are you on drugs?”
“No, just looking at Mom’s rose bushes and making analogies.” Swiping my finger over the wet petals, I head to the front door. “I think you should go to Savannah.”
“Yeah,” she says with a pointed sigh. “I think I should too.”
“Long-distance relationships usually don’t work, but knowing you and your anti-social ways, it might be perfect.”
“I totally hate people.”
“I know.” I unlock the door and step inside. “I need to get ready for work. Hired a new bartender and she’s there alone right now.”
“Go. I need to get back to work anyway.”
“Be good. And let me know if you go to Savannah just so I know you make it home.” The hardwood floors creak under my weight as I amble toward my room. “I mean, I’m sure this guy is a real winner, but you never know.”
She gasps. “I’m being irrational, aren’t I?”
Laughing, I flip on the light in my room. “No. Don’t overthink it. Just use that brain of yours and you’ll be fine.”
“Mach, maybe not. Maybe I should—”
“Go, Blaire. Both back to work and to Savannah. Love ya. Goodbye.”
“Love you. Bye,” she says.
My phone goes flying through the air and lands in the middle of my bed. I want to flop down beside it and rest for a few minutes—get my head together before I throw myself into a weekend night at Crave.
Instead, I turn toward my closet but stop.