Don't Speak (A Modern Fairytale, #5)

While he waited for her to respond, he placed his phone on the railing of the balcony, looking out at the expanse before him: the pool, lawn, boardwalk, and dock. He remembered the first time he ever saw Laire Cornish, standing below him on the pool deck, her green eyes so innocent and lovely as she insisted she didn’t have crabs.

For the first time in many years, he chuckled softly about a memory connected with Laire, but his laughter tapered off quickly, and his smile faded. If he’d known that day the heartache that would follow, would he have spoken to her, followed her around like a puppy, carried her coolers to the kitchen, and insisted on a date? Or would he have said hello, then walked back inside, to the safety of his bedroom, and stayed there until she was gone?

Simply put, would he exchange all the wonderful moments that summer for the pain that followed?

It was a difficult question, but Erik sensed that it was at the heart of his success in moving forward with his life.

If he could go back in time and never meet Laire Cornish, would he?

His phone buzzed on the railing, and he picked it up.

HILLZ: Here. What’s up? How’s the house?

ERIK: In bad shape. Can you call Town & Country Insurance and have an adjuster sent out?

HILLZ: Sure. I’ll call today.

ERIK: I’ll stay until they can get here. I’m staying at the Pamlico House. Tell them to call me there. Phone service isn’t good out here. I can only get texts out.

HILLZ: Will do.

He stared at the screen waiting for her to say more.

HILLZ: How are YOU?

Erik flinched.

As a rule, he wasn’t a fan of the sort of soul-searching he was forcing upon himself—one, it felt self-indulgent, and two, staring hard truths in the face wasn’t that pleasant—but he couldn’t keep living his life as he had been. It was time for a change.

ERIK: Doing some thinking.

HILLZ: And?

And?

If you could go back in time and never meet Laire Cornish, would you?

“No,” he said softly to the cold, whistling wind. “I wouldn’t.”

I wouldn’t trade it. I’d take the good and handle the pain better than I did.

This was an interesting revelation for Erik because so much of the last six years had been spent feeling like he hated Laire, wishing he’d never met her, wanting to punish her for hurting him as she did. But now? Faced with the ultimate question of whether he’d erase her from his life? He wouldn’t. She was the realest thing he’d ever known. She was open and honest, sweet and fresh. No matter how things had ended between them, she’d taught him more about what he ultimately wanted from a life partner than anyone else. How could he reject that knowledge? It was worth more than the pain he’d suffered, wasn’t it? Used correctly, it could shape the sort of relationship that might, someday, make him happy again. He knew what to look for, and what not to look for, in a partner. That knowledge was priceless, and he wouldn’t have it without her.

HILLZ: About what?

ERIK: I’d like to change.

HILLZ: Really?

ERIK: Yeah.

HILLZ: Tell me more! ? ? ?

He groaned at the smiley faces filling the screen. He could see her setting him up on dates the second he returned to Raleigh.

ERIK: Chill out. I’m not ready to get married or anything. I’m just figuring some things out.

HILLZ: That’s good. Really good. That’s all I ever wanted you to do.

ERIK: Thanks, Hills. Thanks for putting up with me. I’ve been pretty awful.

HILLZ: She did a number on you. But yeah, it’s time for you to move on.

ERIK: If I never hear the words “move on” again, it’ll be too soon.

HILLZ: LOL. MOVE ON. MOVE ON. MOVE ON.

Erik’s lips quirked up into a grin, and suddenly he was reminded of the little scamp at breakfast who’d given him such a hard time. He hoped she didn’t have a brother, because he was certain to be heckled just as much as Hillary heckled him.

And yet, there was no denying her awesomeness. Four years old and holding her own against a grown man. He chuckled again. If he could have a kid like Ava Grace someday, it might be worth it to try to find the right girl.

Erik sighed, looking away from his phone at the horizon. It was only four thirty, but the sun was low in the sky. It’d be dark soon.

ERIK: Wench. I have to go. Sun’s setting. No heat here and plenty cold.

HILLZ: Poor Erik.

ERIK: Wiseass. Love you.

HILLZ: I’ll call the insurance company and be in touch. Love you too.

He tucked his phone in his pocket and walked back into his bedroom, closing the sliding door and locking it behind him. There were no lights to turn off as he headed downstairs, walking over the saturated, squishy carpet and water-damaged, buckling hardwood floors on his way to the front door. He locked it behind him, then headed down the steps to his car.

For the first time in a long time, he felt lighter. His heart felt lighter, or warmer maybe. He couldn’t describe it, only knew that it was changing after a long time of suspended animation. Living in a frozen emotional state might have protected him from further heartbreak, but it hadn’t allowed him to heal or grow. The gaping, angry wound that was Laire Cornish’s unexplained rejection had festered for long enough. It was a strange and unexpected relief to finally give himself permission to start moving on.