“I know. I’m sorry.” I sigh. “I’m just kind of melancholy today.”
“You have every right to be. It’s hard, sometimes, to make choices in life when it’s not a clear-cut decision. All you can do is make the best choice for you, and I believe you did that. Or, at least, you made the choice that feels the best for you.”
“I’m not feeling very good this morning,” I admit. “But you’re right. I’m sure when I see the Statue of Liberty, I’ll come around.”
He gives me a one-arm hug. “If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to reach out.”
“Thanks, Gary.” I lean in and hug Mom once more while Gary puts my bags in the rental car. “I love you, Mama.”
“Oh, Neely . . .” She lays her cheek against mine and holds it there for a long time. “I’m proud of you. I know this decision wasn’t easy.” She kisses my cheek, her tears wetting my face. “I love you.”
With a little wave, I slip into the car and back out of the driveway. I honk three times as I make my way down the road.
I pull to a stop at an intersection and do a quick scan of my gauges. The little orange marker shows I’m definitively on empty. I make a quick right and head to Elmer’s Gas Station.
I pick a pump and get out. Swiping my card, I set the nozzle to fill and figure I may as well go inside and get a few snacks for the flight.
The air inside the station is ice cold. I peruse the smoked almonds and beef jerky packages, but none of my usual go-tos look appetizing. Nothing looks good, even the cinnamon breakfast cakes I love but don’t let myself have very often.
I turn to leave but almost run into Susan. Keyarah and Madison’s mom stops in her tracks.
“Neely,” she gushes. “How are you?”
“Good,” I lie. “How are you?”
“Fine. Picking up some sports drinks for the girls. Aerial said practice tonight is going to be a run-through of the routine until it’s perfect, so we better be prepared to stay late.”
“That sounds about right. We’re getting close to the Summer Show. It’s time to start perfecting things now and making the girls really put on the final touches.”
“Will you be there?” she asks, picking up a bag of pistachios.
“No, actually. I won’t be.”
“Well, you’ve been such good help to the girls. I know they absolutely love to see you in the gym.”
“I—”
“And Mia.” Susan giggles. “She is beside herself about you. She told me how much time you’ve been spending with her and Dane. I’m sure it’s hard to spend time with him,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows.
“I—”
“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. If it is a secret, that is. I’m just thrilled to see her really coming out of her shell these days, and it’s all thanks to you.”
I force a smile that I don’t feel. That I don’t mean. That takes the place of the terrible sadness that weighs on my soul.
“To tell you the truth, Susan, I’m on my way out of town.”
“For the day?” she asks, lifting a perfectly manicured brow.
“For good.”
She’s obviously taken aback. A hand goes to her throat as her eyes grow wide. “Really?”
“I was never staying forever,” I say, going through my well-practiced spiel. “I was waiting on a new position to open, and it has, so I have to go back to New York.” Feeling awkward, I grab a bag of peanuts. “I’ll miss the girls.”
“I guess you’re not taking the job at Aerial’s?”
“I didn’t know anyone knew about that,” I admit. “But no, I’m not. I can’t. I haven’t told Aerial that, though, because this all happened so fast. I’ll call her when I land or maybe tomorrow.”
Susan nods. “Good luck to you. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for, Neely.”
“I’m not looking for anything.” I laugh, confused. “I’m just trying to work and make a difference.”
“Honey, with all due respect, that’s not true. If all you wanted to do was to make a difference, you would stay right here in Dogwood Lane.”
“This community doesn’t need me.”
“Keep telling yourself that. Keep telling yourself that Mia doesn’t need you, if no one else.” She heads to the cash register, and like a fool who can’t run away from pain, I follow. “Besides, I saw you with them. The only person who runs from what you have with Dane and Mia is someone who’s looking for something else.” She tosses her nuts on the counter. “I hope you find whatever it is.”
Needing air, needing space, I toss my peanuts in a bin with discounted chocolates and head to my car. The pump is finished. I take the nozzle out and hang it back on the hook before realizing who is standing on the other side of my car.
“Matt,” I say, unsure as to what he’s going to say. My heart thumps in my chest as I take in the guy who used to be one of my closest friends.
“Did you think you were going to leave town without telling me goodbye? Again.”
I walk around the back of the car and into his open arms. The contact is enough to make me blink back tears again.
“I hate crying.” I laugh, pulling back. “I swear I’ve cried more in the last twenty-four hours than I have in my life.”
“Why is that?”
“Because this time it’s all my fault. I have no one to blame for any of this but me.”
“I know you didn’t mean for this to happen,” he says. “I know you aren’t a hateful person.”
“Thank you. That means a lot to me right now.”
He lifts his shoulders up and down. “Look, I don’t know how all of this played out, and I don’t want to know. I don’t care. I just know you’re my friend, and I wanted to tell you to be careful and that I love ya before you go.”
“Damn you.” I blot at my eyes with a tissue I find in my pocket. “I don’t have time to get over to your dad’s. Will you tell him I said goodbye and I’ll see him when I visit?”
“So, ten years from now?” Matt jokes.
“I promise to do better.”
“You better or this country boy is coming to the big city. Yeehaw!”
I laugh. “You’re such a dork.”
“Yeah, I know.” He takes his thumb and rubs a small circle on my forehead. “Be safe.”
“I will. Be good.”
“I’ll try.” With a simple smile, he starts across the parking lot.
“Goodbye, Matt,” I call after him.
“See ya, Neely.”
As I climb in my car and start the ignition, I watch Matt pull away. The farther he gets from sight, the worse the pain gets in my chest.
It didn’t hurt this bad the last time I left. Why can’t I shake it off?
Cranking the air conditioner and the radio, I step on the gas and make my way to the airport. I look back only once.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
DANE
She’s gone. She’s really, truly, actually fucking gone.
I think I’m going crazy. I actually believe I know the minute she left town. I couldn’t breathe, and I had this insane need to get in my truck and barrel to the freeway, but I didn’t. Because people who do stuff like that are lunatics, and I’m not.
Not really.
I was grateful for Mia’s extralong practice tonight. It just gave me a bigger window without having to talk to Mia about why we aren’t seeing Neely again. Then Susan offered to let her stay the night, and while she didn’t say why, the sad look in her eyes told me she knows Neely’s gone.
I hoped she’d change her mind. I hoped she’d start to leave and realize that Mia and I were worth it, that we were worth staying for.
She didn’t.
Meandering through my house, the night as dark as coal outside the windows, I feel like I’m coming out of my skin. There was a time not long ago I loved a quiet house. I loved an evening free with nothing to do. That’s exactly what I have, and I think I’m losing my damn mind.
I got used to her too fast. I became dependent on her laugh, her stories, her body against mine. Now I’m all fucked up, not knowing what to do with myself, and I have no one to blame but me.
There’s a knock at the door, but I don’t even get excited. It’s not Neely’s knock. It’s Haley’s. I don’t tell her to come in either, because I know she will whether she’s invited or not.
Sure enough, within a few minutes, she comes walking around the corner in the kitchen. She stops when she sees me.
“You look bad,” she says. “Good grief, Dane.”
“I’ve seen better days.”
“I believe that just by looking at you.” She hops up on a barstool at the island and watches me. “So, she left.”
“Yeah.”
I can’t even get riled up about it anymore. The anger is gone. It’s just disappointment and loneliness I can’t put into words.
I want to tell Haley this is a broken heart. This is what devastation feels like. But I don’t have the energy to even try.