“I have. She landed in NYC yesterday, but she is going out of town again today,” he says.
“Out of town where, Gray?”
“She asked me not to tell you.”
I slam my fist on the table. “Where is she?” I growl. “I need to talk to her.”
“She said she is going back to where it all started. I don’t know what it means after that.”
I fold my hands on my stomach and think. Going to the beginning. Just where would she go. There are a few places that start at the beginning for us. “That’s it? You don’t have anything else for me?”
“I don’t want to violate my friendship with her.”
“But you’ll violate it with me?” I deadpan.
He groans, pinching his eyes closed from not knowing what to do. “I don’t ever want to be in the middle between Mom and Dad again,” he huffs, while crossing his arms.
“Just tell me.”
“Her old house.”
“What? That thing is barely standing. She could get herself killed walking into that thing.” I push out of my chair and grab my sport coat. “This woman is taking ten years off my life every damn day.”
“Bright side, you’re going to be a really handsome corpse?” Gray chuckles, throwing my stress ball in the air.
“I’m not even going to comment on that.” I snatch the ball out of the air and run out the door, ignoring Gray’s shouts as he calls after me. I just want to get to her already. It’s been too long. I keep replaying what happened in Vegas, and for some reason, I can’t seem to get a handle of how the argument even started. I’ve been trying to place my finger on it, but there isn’t an instance.
There can be a lot of variables, but I don’t want to think about them right now. None of them matter. I just want to start over. I don’t want us to live in the past anymore. And maybe, just maybe, if we sat down and talked instead of getting pissed off at each other, maybe it will work.
I have faith that it will.
“Hey, Greg,” I call out to the bellman that answers the door at the company building. “Toss me the keys.” I go long, cupping my hands together in hopes that he doesn’t miss this time because those key fobs are really expensive to replace.
The old man tosses it to me, and it lands right in the middle of my hands. “Next round is on me, my friend!” I shout, jumping every two steps down the staircase.
I get to the garage and click the remote start to my Ford Raptor. Sure, it isn’t a Lamborghini, but I fucking love this truck. I hop in, and the engine growls, sounding angry and menacing. The roar echoes through the garage, and I slam my foot on the gas, peeling out of the parking garage in a very dangerous manner. I don’t recommend doing this all the time.
The truck fishtails when I take a curve too sharp, and I almost hit a little Mini Cooper. My truck would have demolished that. I breathe a sigh of relief when I’m finally on the road. I put my hazards on and floor it. I drift in and out between traffic, careful not to run into anyone. When I look at my speedometer, it is saying I’m going eighty-five miles per hour. It still isn’t fast enough. I need to get to her now.
I twist the ring on my finger with my thumb, a habit I’ve formed over the last few days. I don’t know why we are acting like this. We finally have everything we want. There seem to still be unresolved issues, but that isn’t anything that can’t be fixed. And I’ll do whatever it takes to fix it with her because I am in this.
For good.
Forever.
I want her.
The road to her old house is coming up on the right, but there are a few cars ahead of me that won’t get out of my way, so I have to slow down to forty miles an hour. “Come on,” I groan and slap my steering wheel with frustration.
I turn my blinker on and turn down the dirt road. My tires kick up dust and rock as I fly through the potholes and uneven terrain. If something happens to this truck, fine. I can buy another. I can’t buy another Everly, and that house she is going in has been on the verge of collapsing now after a heavy windstorm came through and nearly demolished it, just last year.
It’s actually on my things-to-do list. I wanted to fix it up and renovate it for her, so when she did come home, she can see someone took care of it. But now, she’s going to see what a mess it is.
After driving on the dirt road for about five minutes, her house comes up on the left, but no cars are out there. She must have taken a taxi. I slam on the breaks and put the truck in park. As I look up at the house, memories of my first eighteen years assault me. The classic white paint is chipped off and peeling, the wood is rotted, the deck is gone, the front door is hanging on one hinge, but the one thing that hasn’t changed are those bright green vines that have grown up the side of the house. They scale right underneath her window, just like before.
I walk through the tall grass and test the strength of them out. I grab one, then another and pull. Still as strong as the day I discovered them. A gust of wind blows, rustling the tall grass, but it doesn’t drown out the sobs I hear coming from her bedroom.
I pull myself up along the vines, stepping on them like a rock wall. I hope she is ready because after today, she is never going anywhere again. I don’t care if we sit in front of each other
