I wipe away the tears tracking down my cheeks and throw the car into drive. Maybe it’s not too late—he could still be here, walking around nearby.
Five o’clock commuter traffic doesn’t let me get very far, though, and I bang my hand against the steering wheel in frustration when I have to sit at the traffic light at the intersection near my office through three intervals. I scour the surrounding sidewalks, searching for his hair blowing in the wind, his backpack and guitar slung over his shoulder. The baby seat in the back seat catches my eye in the rearview mirror and my heart skips a beat. Did he see it when he put the note in my car? Did it scare him away? Oh, God. What if he thinks I had a baby with someone else? Now, more than ever, I have to find him and tell him about Lyric before he disappears again.
When the traffic lets up, I drive up and down the main street, past the park and all the places Blue used to play, but I don’t see him anywhere. I know I should give up on this craziness—run my errands, pick up my little girl, and go home. But I don’t. Like a magnet I’m pulled to the only other place I think Blue might be.
The house with the shed.
Years ago I made a promise to myself to never come back here and torture myself with the memories and the questions that haunt this place. I almost broke that promise several times over the years when I was missing Blue so damn much I wanted to do anything to feel close to him again. Every time I fought the urge and forced myself to stay home, playing the music box and staring at the flameless candle he gave me.
“I thought maybe you could take one home with you and put it by your bed. So you know I’m thinking about you.”
That little flickering light left a lot to be desired.
I’ve been strong. I stopped searching for him, and I stayed away from our special places. But tonight is different, because he might actually be here.
I’m not surprised to see the old house hasn’t changed at all; still a lonely reflection of what I’m sure it once was when people lived there. I check out the shed first, and I’m disappointed to see it’s still empty. I have to question my own morals that I actually want to see the man I love sleeping in this old musty building. Next I check the porch, nearly jumping out of my skin when the wind slams the screen door shut behind me with a bang. If Blue is here, he definitely heard that. Disappointment grows when I see everything is exactly the same—the pile of notebooks, the tarp in the corner, completely untouched. Just to ease my mind, I try the door to the kitchen, and it’s still locked.
I don’t bother calling out his name as I’ve done in the past because I know if he’s here somewhere, he had to have heard that door slam, and if he did, then he’s purposely avoiding me. I can understand him not wanting to confront me in the parking lot of my office, but I’m here now, on his playing ground, and if he doesn’t care about me enough to come out of the shadows, then there’s nothing more I can do. I don’t want to play games. I’m a mother now, I have a corner office with windows, and I’ve worked hard to get my life together after he shredded my heart like a raptor. I can’t—I refuse—to let myself crumble again.
I high-tail out of there, race through the grocery store, then go to my parents’ house to pick up Lyric, which I should have done in the first place rather than hunting around for Blue. When my mother gets on me about how late I am, and how I should have called her, I don’t have the energy to argue with her, tell her the truth, or make up excuses. I dole out the best apology I can, pack up my daughter and her tribe of stuffed toys, and drive home.
Lyric falls asleep in the car, and the absence of her usual chatter gives me the chance to re-compose myself. Unfortunately, the moment we step inside the house, the sight of Acorn wagging his tail and greeting us with Penguin in his mouth dredges up my heartache all over again.
Sometimes, I do hate Blue, but I still can’t stop loving him.
Chapter Nineteen
“These are incredible. I think you found your calling.” The two-page magazine spread of Josh modeling for an expensive cologne line is impressive. His expression and his body language are so confident and natural, it’s hard to believe this is the same awkward teen boy I dated.
He rummages through the box on his living room floor between us, pulling out more photos. “Surprising, huh?” he says. “I enjoy it way more than I thought I would.”
I hold up a photo of him with a beautiful female model that I instantly recognize. “Well, who wouldn’t enjoy this?” I tease. “Is she really this perfect in person, or is this all photo editing? Tell me it’s editing.”
He laughs. “Nope, she’s that perfect.”
“Damn. It’s so unfair.” I put the picture on the floor next to the others and reach into the bottom of the box to pull out a few more photos while he flips through another magazine. The pictures I’m holding aren’t professional photos, but appear to be candid photos of him at a party with some friends, and a few of him kissing a guy.
Kissing a guy.
Studying the picture with my brow creased, I decide they must be friends joking around, but my breath hitches as I shuffle to the next photo, which shows them half naked, making out, and clearly groping each other. Before I can truly grasp what I’m seeing, Josh snatches the photo from my hand and throws it back in the box, slowly shaking his head back and forth.
“You weren’t supposed to see that.”
Wow. Ditra called this way back in sophomore year of high school, and I told her she was crazy. She was right. Josh is gay. Or bi.
I swallow hard and try to meet his eyes as he shoves the lid back on the box.
“Josh….” I don’t know what to say.
“I’m confused, Piper,” he says in a low voice. “Have been for a long time.”
I nod and touch his hand. “It’s okay. I am, too.”
So much makes sense to me now. This is why things never went further when we dated years ago, and why we’ve been strictly friends since we started spending time together recently. I haven’t just been friend-zoning him because I’m still stuck on Blue. He’s been friend-zoning me, too.
Damn. Maybe I’m just destined to never be in a normal relationship with anyone.
The brief moment of surprise and awkwardness fades away, and we let it. We resume our plans to make dinner and watch a movie. But when I yawn and tell him I should head home, he puts his hand on my arm to stop me.
“Can we talk before you go?” he asks.
“Sure.”
He takes a deep breath. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you...I’ve just been waiting for the right time. But now that you know...yeah, I like guys. And women.”
I’m not going to let this screw up my friendship with him. I need supportive people in my life, and he’s been at the top of the list since we ran into each other.
“Josh… it doesn’t matter to me who or what you like. You’re my friend, I want you to be happy. My head is messed up, too. You know that.”
“I know. And for the record, I think it sucks, because you deserve to be happy, and not be in love with some ghost of a guy.”
I ignore his comment.
“So, the breakup you told me about? The one that messed you up? Was it a guy?”
He nods solemnly. “Yeah, it was. He’s the first guy—the only guy—I’ve ever dated or been with. And you’re still the only woman I’ve ever seriously dated.”
“And I thought you were just a nice guy taking it slow with me because I was a virgin,” I tease.
“Whoa... don’t even think what you’re thinking, Piper. I didn’t not have sex with you because I wasn’t attracted to you. I was. You’re beautiful. I just didn’t want to lead you on when my head was so fucked up. I wasn’t going to let your first time be with a guy who wasn’t a hundred percent committed to you in every way.”