I shove my phone into my leggings as Sean opens the back door of the Escalade for me.
Chapter 2
Julian
Christmas in California sometimes borders on ridiculous—parts of it anyway. With temperatures only dipping into the upper sixties, it doesn’t exactly scream hot cocoa and toasty fires. Still, we bring our own flavor of holiday spirit to Blue Lake, and I’ve come to love it over the years—well, most of it. Cavern County Christmas is one of my favorite events of the year. Especially the Lanterns and Lights Festival Allie started at Brew that ends with the Blue Lake bonfire. Maybe because it isn’t holiday specific and lasts for days. It allows people from all different beliefs and places to come together and celebrate or let go of the past year and welcome the new one.
If you love the commercial side of Christmas, the lights and carnival are perfect. If it’s more spiritual for you, the lanterns are a cool tradition for manifesting what you want in the new year, and lastly, there’s the bonfire to burn things you want to leave behind. Something for everyone. My least favorite part is probably the cheesy carnival that comes to town on the first day. The rickety rides and shitty food draw the county in droves. Still, I like tradition and seeing everyone inCavern County come together. For me, it’s more about where the carnival sets up in the empty lot next to the Little League fields between here and South Point. Because right next to the clay pits is the shitty trailer park I grew up in, that my equally shitty parents probably still live in. I’ve never checked or looked them up in any way since I left, except for occasionally perusing the public arrest records and obituary reports to see if either of them is on it, as morbid as that sounds.
That I feel like an integral part of the Cavern County celebrations at all is weird and fulfilling after the life of obscurity I lived in Southy, where I purposely avoided getting involved in anything. The whole event brings people from every town in the county. Brew only started hosting the Lantern and Lights Festival a couple years before I showed up. That’s all Allie. I know she has things she doesn’t talk about that make her sad, and I think that founding the festival was her way to channel it and help others deal with their grief, too. Ever the helper, leave it to Allie to build something beautiful like that for Blue Lake.
Grief has a funny way of keeping you in a chokehold under the surface though. On the outside you can do all the things—work, play, enjoy life—but underneath, you see the loved one in every single moment. The things they’re missing. The things they’ll never do. Sometimes it’s like a program that runs silently in the background. And sometimes, it takes center stage and cripples you for anything remotely resembling functioning.
For three years, that was my life. I lived in the reality that my high school girlfriend died by suicide. And two months ago she showed up at Brew very much alive. Both of us lied to by her now deceased diabolical and tyrannical father in some misplaced protective act to keep us apart. The huge mental adjustment her existence requirescannot be overstated. The absolute mindfuck is something I’m still reeling from. When the sorrow creeps in, it’s immediately followed by the euphoria that she’s alive. Then the anger that we were lied to and believed that horror for three years.Shebelieved I’d abandoned her, that I’d been scared off by her father and incentivized by a hefty payoff to stay gone. That’s another level of anger—for both of us. Then, I rally mine, tuck it away, and find my gratefulness that she’s still here and that he’snot. That I don’t have to live in a world with him in it goes a long way to dialing down my rage at the injustice of it all.
“To borrow your line, what’s going on in there?” Ever settles onto my lap as the last strip of sunlight fades into the inky glass surface of Blue Lake. “I freaked you out about the Taya stuff, didn’t I?”
Wrapping my arms around her and pressing my nose to the spot behind her ear that I love, I kiss her lightly and inhale. “Nooo. No. I promise.” I smile into her overcast eyes and peck the tip of her pixie nose. “I do worry though how she’s handling it—the new reality of what her father did in the name of fatherly love and his sudden death and that she is essentially the last of her family and alone.” My eyes bounce between hers, gauging how my brain dump is registering. I want to be honest with her. She deserves that. I do wonder how Taya’s doing and if I should reach out. We care about each other, but we’re not friends or in each other’s lives. Part of me wants that though. The rescuer in me, I guess. But she’s my ex and how does that track with my present relationship? It’s all so fucking weird—for all of us. “Maybe I need to reach out.” I step back to lock eyes with her, shrug my shoulders, palms out low.
Ever mimics my shrug and nods twice.
“I do worry that she’s alone. Not that her dad was a stellar example of a human being, but he was her last living relative that I know of.”
Placing her palm on my cheek, one corner of her mouth lifts in a sad smile. God, my girl is sweet. Proving it, she says, “She said to tell you she’d be home for the festival and would help if we want. If you’re looking for a reason to reach out. And considering you used the wordworrytwice in two sentences, maybe you should.” Ever rustles the hair on the top of my head, then scrapes her fingers deliciously along the back of my scalp as she swipes her thumb along my cheek.
Tipping my forehead to hers, I ask, “How’d I get such a good girlfriend?”
“Just lucky, I guess.”
“Yeah, sassy girl, I am.” I press my lips to hers.
“So call her, text her. Whatever. I’m gonna dip in the hot tub. Join me when you’re done.” She kisses me again and scoots off my lap, then rustles the longer hair on top of my head again as she leaves.
In some ways, Ever is an old soul, showing a grounded maturity beyond her years. Sometimes, her inexperience with relationships shows in her reactions to things that feel threatening or uncertain. That she is handling the Taya thing so well blows me away and makes me love her even more—if that’s possible. I haven’t even explained the extent to which this whole development fucks with my head, but somehow I think she knows. Both of us shy away from the hard talks if we can. We’re not exactly afraid to have them. We just like to keep things light and happy as often as possible. Like now.
Before I get too far down my rabbit hole, my phone vibrates on the side table next to me.
Ever:Stop overthinking and text her
Me:ok ?
Before I type Taya’s name into my phone and bring up the text screen, I rub the spot on my chest where Ever’s name is now permanently written, in her handwriting, my lips curving up.
Me:Hey, Tay. Ever said you’re coming home for the holidays. What dates? We’d love your help and input on the festival.
The three dots pop up immediately, which makes my heart thud a little harder and quicker. I notice too late that I referred to Ever asEverto Taya. I only use that nickname for her ears alone, but I don’t want to draw more attention to it by correcting myself.
Taya:I’m on break for almost four weeks. I’ll be home the whole time. Gotta make some decisions about the property in Southy. Then I’m all yours. Lmk how I can help.
Me:Cool. It’ll be so great to see you. ?
Taya:?
I hate the way my heart is racing for another woman. I can’t help that it is, but somehow it feels disrespectful to Ever. There isn’t anyone that could be what Ever is to me—never. Maybe that I’m even concerned about it is proof that my heart is in the right place.
I take some deep breaths.
I want to ask her about the douchebag Ever said she called Brody, but I’m not sure it’s any of my business. I just want to make sure she knows she has someone she can turn to if she needs it. Again, her being back from the dead is fucking with me. I care about her. I feel protective and somewhat territorial over her. Not like I care for Everly, obviously. Not even close. Still, the thought of some asshole putting his hands on her in any aggressive way makes me see red. But that would very likely be true for any woman being mistreated by a man.
