Mom smiles softly across the table and reaches for my hand. “And that’s all we ever wanted for you, my love. You just had to figure that out for yourself.” She excuses herself to the kitchen to grab the bread and butter, Pops bouncing in his seat, ready to grub.
“Thanks, Mom. I appreciate that,” I respond before turning toward my sister, who’s now elbow deep in her mashed potatoes. “Excited about the trip, P?”
She nods before taking a bite of her steak. “Totally. I’ve never been to California before. I’m excited for the break.”
Palmer owns a small bookstore in town. For being only twenty-eight, she works a shit ton of hours, but I’ve never seen her happier. She actually reminds me of Collie in a lot of ways.
My stubbornly independent lost girl.
Just thinking of her absence makes my chest hurt.Although we’ve kept in contact, it’s never been anything past sharing something funny that reminded us of our time together or a helpless ‘I miss you.’
But I couldn’t forget her laugh if I tried. Or the way the mini braids and flowers she wears in her hair make her look almost ethereal.
Cathartic to my ability to breathe.
We’re definitely tiptoeing around the emotional, knowing this is the best we can do.
But I won’t lie and say I wish things were different.
Yet, I’m skeptical to ask the question I’m dying to know: what happened when she got back to Timber Heights? I know she’s been looking at storefronts, but are her plans set in stone?
I’m afraid if I ask, I’ll trick myself into thinkingknowingis the green light I need in order to justify what we are.
What we were.
What I know we could be.
I don’t know if it’s coming back into town and the reception I’ve received from my family and friends, but the fear I thought I’d feel about transitioning into a new chapter of my life is nonexistent.
I bought myself out of the lease to the condo. Sydney got a place of her own. I rented out a small, two-bedroom house on the riverbank. It’s less than fifteen minutes from the jobsite, and although it’s not forever, it’ll do for now.
But nothing about it feels permanent. And maybe that’s because of Collie. If I know one thing, it’s that the feeling of missing her makes me feel terribly empty. The urge to hear her voice before I so much as open my eyes in the morning is consuming.
There’s nothing holding me back from the life I want.
If anything, the only factor is me. I spent the first few weeks questioning everything about how I was feeling. I knew I couldn’t stop thinking about Collie…but I had to convince myself the thoughts weren’t just out of attraction and her being the first woman I’d been with since before Ben died.
All of it was fear and uncertainty. Because every time my blue-eyed girl danced into my thoughts, the physical intimacy we had was only an added bonus. It’s our connection. The bond we had, even as strangers, that I find so incredibly rare. Collie understands me in a way I hoped someone would someday.
I didn’t need to explain myself. I didn’t need to ask for understanding. She freely gave it because we’re so like-minded that we’re actually different.
I think that’s as golden as snow in salty air. The imbalance in both of our lifestyles. Yet, an ocean breeze has never felt more appealing.
I just need to figure out what I’m gonna do about it. I’ve dropped little questions here and there with her in passing, hoping she’ll feed me more.
But nothing yet. And I’m waiting, slowly getting the feeling we’re inching closer.
My phone ringing in my pocket steals my focus. I pull it out at the same time Mom says, “East, honey. Is everything okay?”
I can’t hide my smile at the sight of Collie’s name. The ringtone she assigned for herself makes me smile even bigger, and I know I must look like a dorky fool. The day we went into town to make hats, I was fucking starving and insisted we grab lunch at a little sandwich shop Dirty Dan recommended beforehand. Collie asked for my phone across thebooth, only because she wanted something that fit her vibe to play when she called me.
“Dancing in the Moonlight” by Toploader blares throughout my parents’ small suburban dining room. I never did get to do that. Dance with her in my arms under the moonlit stars.
Add it to the bucket list.
“Everything’s great, Mom. Mind if I take this?” I hold the phone up, looking to her for approval.
I may be a grown man, but I’ll respect my mom’s wishes in her home. She worked hard on preparing our meal, and I’d hate to take away from that.
