Page 61 of Entangled
Austin sips his beer. “Even so, it was your choice to divulge those details. That’s on you, my friend. Don’t forget, you’re a lot older than her. Maybe you have more experience dealin’ with stuff. Katie’s therapist always said, ‘Healing is a journey. Don’t expect trauma to give you a roadmap.’ Those words really stuck with me. As much as you know somebody, you never truly know what’s goin’ on inside their head or how deeply their past affects them.”
My chest deflates on a massive sigh. “Well, fuck. When you put it that way, I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot. You just made a wrong turn. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Love’s a journey too, man. It’s hard to get where you’re goin’ with a broken compass.”
Love?Now, that’s a word I thought I’d never have anything to do with again. The last time I went down that road it was a dead end. What if Rowan is the detour I’ve been waiting for? Maybe this time, the iron gate at the top of the mountain is a destination instead of a roadblock.
“A, who said anything about love? And B, how does one fix their compass?”
Austin releases a hearty laugh. “If you didn’t love her, you wouldn’t have shown up on my doorstep looking like somebody drowned your puppy. Open your eyes, man. Let yourself feel what you’re feelin’ and learn from your missteps.” His gaze meets mine. “And if I knew anything about compasses, I’d be in Memphis right now, instead of sittin’ here with your sorry ass.”
“I wondered why you were here so close to Christmas.”
He rubs his jaw. “I was workin’ on a song for Katie and the baby. Can’t exactly surprise her if I’m doing it at home. I’m heading back in the morning.”
“Good call. She needs you around right now.” I clap his shoulder. “Thank you for listening.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
* * *
I wentto bed early last night because I had to be awake at the ass crack of dawn to pick up Dahlia from the airport. Joe wasn’t thrilled about me calling out from work, but that’s his problem. One of the other guys can pick up the slack. I’m bone tired. I deserve a day off to spend time with my sister, especially since she’s one of the few people who still wants to be around me.
Austin’s words echoed in my mind all night. I texted Rowan before I went to bed, apologizing for my stupidity, but she didn’t respond. I don’t know what this means for us going forward. I’ve never connected with anyone like I do with her. My chest tightens with the thought of losing that connection.
I hate that I left her in tears. All I wanted was to put a smile on her face. Make her happy. Hold her hand during a romantic carriage ride and watch a lantern or two. I should’ve known better. Austin was right. I pushed her too hard, too fast. While he threw me for a loop when he mentioned love, maybe he wasn’t too far off. My feelings go much deeper than lust. Is it love? I’m not sure. I can only compare it to my relationship with Chelsea, and, well, there’s no comparison. But I do know this: It feels like I’m missing a limb without Rowan.
Grimacing, I lift the third suitcase into the back of my personal truck. Dahlia easily packed enough for a month when her trip is only supposed to be a week and a half. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she plans to move in.
“What’s the face for?” she chirps.
“Why are your suitcases so heavy? Better yet, why are therethreeof them?”
She squeezes my bicep. “Oh, c’mon, Mr. Tough-as-fuck Marine. You can handle it.” She grins up at me. “But to answer your questions, in addition to my clothes, books, your gifts, and my shoes, I had to bring stuff for Christmas dinner.”
“You know we have grocery stores in Tennessee, right?”
Dahlia rolls her eyes. “I’m not talking about the food stuff, Buzz. I brought my lasagna pan and a few pie plates and cookie sheets. I’ll be shocked if you own more than two bowls and a spoon. I wanted to be prepared.”
“I have a full set of dishes, thank you very much. And silverware. Chelsea let me take Grandma’s stuff when we split.”
“That was big of her.”
My sister never liked Chelsea. Not even when we first started dating way back in high school. While Dahlia was only at the start of middle school then, she claims she had a sixth sense about Chelsea, and sheknewwe weren’t a good match. I don’t buy in to the woo-woo shit, but she was on the money. In fact, she’salwaysfreakishly accurate with her little predictions, which unnerves me. I try not to think about the weirdness of it all. Thankfully, she spared me the “I-told-you-so” shit when everything fell apart.
I close the hatch and point to the passenger side. “Get in.”
“Why are you in a shitty mood?”
“I’m not.”
“Bullshit. I’ll get in the truck, but you’re going to tell me what the hell’s your problem.”
I salute her, march to the driver’s side, and climb in. I was stupid to think she wouldn’t see right through my “everything’s fine” act.
She scrambles into the passenger seat and clicks her seatbelt. “Speak.”
“It’s a long story.”
