Taylor

After he's gone, I just stand there on the porch for what feels like hours. Did he really just tell me he loved me? Those words are actually just sinking in, and my reaction to him saying them makes me want to cry now.

But it's not possible for him to be in love with me. It's not. We've known each other less than a week.

Yet, I was such a bitch to him. And I don't think I've ever been sorrier in my entire life. But I have no way to get him back.

Unless I go look for him in town…maybe call his uncle.

But no.

I need to get home to Henry. Back to my life. The one that makes sense. Because none of this does. Adam’s wanted by the police. Who knows what else he’s involved in?

My ankle has started to really hurt again, so I limp back into the house. I ignore the pain as I collect the rest of my stuff, lock up, get in my car and drive away as fast as I can. The less I think about any of this, the better. Once I'm back in the city, everything will make sense again.

But I can't calm down, can't stop the waves of sadness, guilt, dread, and homesickness washing over me. All these emotions are sending tingles that hurt like pinpricks all over my skin. I should go back. The pull is so strong I can barely resist it. And I don't even understand it. It's so illogical.

I've known Adam for a few days. A few days filled with lifetimes of passion.

But that's just it. I can't throw away my whole life for having a few passionate nights with someone who's wanted by the police, who might go back to war at any moment and die there. It's the only thing he really talks about—the military, his life there, how he wants to go back, and that's because it's all he really cares about. I know it is. Henry mostly talks about medieval castle life. It's what he cares about most. But his work is not dangerous. Adam's is. I can't tie myself to a hurt like that.

The realization hits me like a strong gust of wind.

It's not his anger, nor the sheriff coming over. It's the glint in his eyes when he talks about his work. The rush he says he gets from almost dying, how that wares off, how he needs more and more of it. He'd never hurt me, not intentionally. But he could damage me irreparably anyway. Because I think I could love him very deeply. I think somehow I already do.

Henry wants me to have his children. Live with him in a nice apartment, have long philosophical conversation over good wine. A calm and peaceful life. That's what I need. I don't need passion and adventure. I'd just lose myself in all that, like I did in the past few days. And I can't love Adam. We've known each other less than a week. It's not possible.

It gets easier believing all that the farther away from the cabin I get. By the time I reach my parents’ apartment it's almost the last week never even happened. Or it would be, if I didn't feel like someone ripped my heart out, left a huge gaping wound that won't close no matter how much I try to ignore it.

* * *

Adam

She's right. It's only been a few days. Maybe I can't say I love her yet. But it's what I feel. And that's not gonna change.

I don't even know if I'm awake or sleeping. The world has that dreamlike quality, but the feeling is all nightmare.

I should sleep. I've been awake for nearly twenty four hours now. But if I go home, Brad and my uncle will just drag me out on more pointless searching. And if I sleep, I'll just wake up screaming, wishing I hadn't gone to sleep at all. Whatever dreams come tonight, I know they’ll be the worst yet.

I could track Taylor down. I still have her license plate number memorized. But just the thought of her telling me to leave her alone makes me nauseous all over again.

I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about her. And I don't think I ever will.

But I should start to let it go. Because it's over, like I knew it would be from the moment I saw her, followed her into the cabin. I knew it all along, so why am I even surprised? And I didn't lie to her. I'm good at dealing with loss. Overcome and move on. Ignore and compartmentalize. Just make sure the compartments are never opened again.

I break hard, leaving a trail of burned rubber on the asphalt, make a U-turn on my way up the mountain and head home. Going into the woods won't solve this. Running away won't solve it either. I'm already alone.

What I need to do now is find a good nursing home for my mom, track down my father, and then put in that appeal. Re-enlist. Go back to war. I'm no good at living in the outside world anyway. It makes no sense to me, never did. But I am good at war. I can make a difference there. And forget Taylor.

* * *

Taylor

The apartment is empty and I like the silence, the serenity washing over me. I don't have to make any decisions yet, don't have to talk to anyone. I'm still alone, no one knows where I am.

I have five missed calls from Henry already, but I don't call him back. Instead I finally unpack my suitcase, start sorting the clothes so I can wash them. The shirts I wore over the last couple of days smell of Adam, and the scent is filling the room now, making my stomach clench in all sorts of conflicting emotions. Excited butterflies, twisting in stone cold dread. I feel like crying. Almost do, once I fill up the washer with my shirts and press the button to start the cycle. Insane. I made the right decision.

I call Henry back after that. There's no point keeping him waiting. I don't even know why I'm doing it.

"I called you four hours ago," he says, "Where are you?"

"Home," I mutter. There's the sound of clanking dishes in the background. "Where are you?"

"At my Mom's," he says. "I'll take the train into the city in about half an hour, so we can go look at some apartments. Wear something nice."

His tone is all business. He's upset about me not picking up the phone when he called before, but he's not bringing it up, so I won't either.

"I twisted my ankle again," I say. "I don't think I can walk a lot today."

He clucks his tongue and exhales loudly. "Again? Well, I'm sure you can walk for an hour or so, right?"

No concern, doesn't even ask me how badly I sprained it. But I'm used to that from him. And I do twist my ankle a lot. I'm sure Adam was so nice and attentive about it because we hardly met. A few more sprained ankles down the road, and he'd sound exactly like Henry does.

The memory of him carrying me to bed afterwards, letting me have my way with his body flashes into my mind, vivid and fully formed like I'm still right there. My face grows hot, my throat so tight I can't even breathe. But in all the excitement the image brings, I still want to cry.

"Taylor? You still there?"

"Yeah," I manage, though I'm not entirely sure I am. This lost feeling was supposed to go away once I got back home. "So you'll be here in how long?"

"At three," he says. "Just meet me at Penn Station, OK? At the main entrance."

"Sure, OK," I say, barely managing to contain the tears.

Two hours and half a box of chocolate chip cookies later, I feel a little better.

At the train station, I have to wave hard before Henry notices me. He strides over and gives me a tight hug, but when I go in for a kiss, he turns his head, just gives me a peck on the cheek. He’s still upset with me, that’s gotta be it.

"I said wear something nice," he says, eyeing me up and down. I thought it was fine. I'm wearing my black jeans and a tunic, and my black and violet sneakers.

"If you mean the shoes," I say slowly, bitingly. "I can't exactly walk in anything else right now."

He blinks, the action intensified by the magnifying effect of his thick glasses. "Oh, right. Well. These are some classy places we're going to look at."

He starts making his way through the crowd on the sidewalk, dragging me along by my hand.

"Slow down," I finally say after I almost twist my ankle for the second time.

"We need to hurry. The first place is Uptown," he says, but does slow down after that.

Why didn't we just meet at my place then? I almost ask, it's right on the tip of my tongue. But I refrain, because I don't want to argue.

"I can't really afford anything too expensive," I tell him in the cab. "Not if I'll be in grad school full time. I already have crazy loans to pay off."

"Don't worry about that," he says. "We'll manage. And about grad school, have you given any thought to postponing it. I mean, if we're having a baby and all."

He's talking like we haven't just been broken up. Like nothing's changed. And I suppose for him it hasn't. That was all me. But at least he’s not flinging it in my face.

"About that…" I say. He turns to me sharply.

"What about it? We agreed this was the best time to start trying," he asks tersely, almost angrily.

"You didn't want to do a lot of trying in France," I counter.

He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. "I was busy with the book. I told you I'd prefer to work on it alone, but you insisted on coming with me to France anyway."

"Yes, well, we're a couple, aren't we?" I ask. "That's what couples do."

"My book's finished and with the editor now," he says more complacently. "And term doesn’t start for another six weeks. We have more time for everything now."

He grins at me as he says it, but it's so different that it was with Adam. And it certainly doesn't make me want to jump into bed with him and start making babies. Not in the least. As for Adam…I bite the inside of my cheek to get rid of the thought, though it doesn't even begin to get rid of the butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.

"I'm not sure I'm ready for kids," I mutter, but Henry doesn't hear me, since he's busy paying the fare. I don't repeat it again.

We spend the rest of the afternoon checking out apartments Uptown, near Columbia University where Henry's starting his assistant professor job in the fall. My grad school is downtown, so I'll be commuting for an hour each way if we get an apartment here.

I mention it after we view the second apartment that's way too expensive, though super nice.

"Well, the walking won't do you any harm," he replies. "You need to get in shape for the baby anyway."

I don't bother commenting on that. By the time we see the last apartment on his list, my ankle is killing me, and I'm ready to go home and cry for reasons that have nothing to do with that pain.

"These are all too expensive, Henry," I tell him once we're finally sitting down at a cafe. I'm starving, but I was too afraid to suggest we get dinner, because that'll just lead to another comment about my weight, and I can eat at home later. I'm not even fat, seriously, and Adam had no problem with my body at all. Henry's as skinny as a rake and eats like one meal and a snack a day. I guess his mom's lunch filled him up for today.

"Don't worry. Mom's gonna help out," he says as I empty the third packet of sugar into my latte. "Sure you shouldn't lay off all that sugar?"

I ignore his last comment as I stir the sugar in, fighting the urge to add another. "I don't want your mom paying my rent."

"Well, can you afford your own?"

"Not right now, and not in the city. Maybe somewhere else," I say. "Amanda and Claire are looking at apartments in Queens. Maybe something there?"

"I want to live in the city," he counters. "I think that last one was perfect. The park's close and the view is terrific."

"Come on, that's the most expensive one! And the darkest. I want big windows and sunshine."

"Come on, Taylor, at least try to talk like an adult," he says rolling his eyes. "I think I'll just call them now. Make the down payment before they rent it to someone else."

The waiter brings a strawberry cake to the table next to ours, and my eyes follow it involuntarily.

Henry clucks his tongue. "Don't get cake. You should also start making better eating choices in general."

But the words don't even register. It's the smell of strawberries, exactly like the condoms I bought, and the light, soft feeling of pleasure, belonging, excitement filling my stomach has nothing to do with food.

"No, don't make the call," I say grabbing his hand. Suddenly I'm seeing myself decorating the last apartment we visited, sitting in the living room with Henry in the evening, and the loneliness is killing me. "Let's look at a few more."

"These places go fast, Taylor," he says. "We need to act."

"I know, but let's just give it one more day."

One more day. That's what I need. And then Adam will be out of my system, and I can give Henry my undivided attention. But in the volatile emotional state I'm in right now, I don't want to be making any life decisions.

He doesn't insist, which is not like him, just leans back and sips his coffee in silence for awhile. I try not to think of anything at all.

"You are ready for this, right?" he finally asks.

I nod, it's all I can do. Because he'd hear the doubt in my voice, if I actually spoke. But I'm regaining my composure fast. Sure, I could mess around with Adam for a few more weeks, months maybe. But he can't offer me the safety and security I need, not like Henry can. And I couldn’t ask him to, couldn’t keep him from doing what he truly wants. Which is going back to war.

I do want to be a mom, do want a nice place to myself. I made up my mind about all that last spring, when Henry asked me to move in with him in the fall. So this is just a momentary relapse for me, a case of cold feet, nothing else.

Henry picks up his phone and starts scrolling, and I drink my coffee in silence. This is good. Being able to share silences like this. We’re comfortable with each other, our relationship has a future.

"My editor has some corrections for me," Henry suddenly says and checks his watch. "I can make the seven o'clock train, if I leave now. Want to come with me?"

"To your mom's?" I ask. She doesn't like me much, thinks Henry could and should find someone more suitable. Kind of like my parents do about him. We have that in common.

"Yes, my mom's," he says bitingly. "So?"

Henry's devoted to his mother, won't hear a word spoken against her. It's because he lost his dad when he was very young, I'm sure. And it's not like she says as much to my face, it's more the way she looks at me, the feeling I get when I'm around her. And on top of everything else, it's not something I need today.

"No, I still need to finish my laundry," I say. "But I'll see you tomorrow, and we can look at a few more places. I'll try to set up a few more appointments."

"Just let me handle that, OK?" he says and gets out his wallet, tossing a ten on the table. "I should go. Talk later?"

I nod and he leaves, not even kissing me goodbye. If he asked me some more to go with him, I would've said yes. But he didn't, like he doesn't even care.

The real joke is that he's not really acting any different than he always did. I'm just seeing it differently now. And I'm getting offended, not even hurt like I used to. But why?

Sure, Adam was all attentive and said the right things at the right time, but how much of that was just to get me into bed and keep me there? Most of it, I'm sure. At least with Henry, I know exactly what to expect. And he does care for me. Wants to make a life with me.

I pay and decide to splurge on a cab back home, because my ankle is pulsing in pain. I need to lay down and not think of anything for awhile.

* * *

Adam

I did try to sleep, but as I expected, it didn't make anything better. I got about three hours, after which I was too nauseous from the nightmares to even bother trying for more.

So I've been sitting in the kitchen with Mom for the past two hours. She's mending one of her dresses, though mostly she just stares out the window. Julie's at work, and Brad's with his girlfriend somewhere. I told Pat to just go talk to whoever he wants to alone today, that I need the sleep. The truth is, I don't much care for finding Dad anymore, not with Taylor gone.

I wish I was alone with her somewhere. Anywhere. Hell, even still arguing.

I wish Sheriff Wade didn't come banging on her door. I wish I'd begged her to stay more. I wish I knew how to get her back. I wish I had the guts to try. But I can't handle another rejection by her, and wishing just makes everything hurt worse.

"The house is so quiet when no one's here, don't you think?" Mom says, speaking so softly I don't even know if she really spoke.

I've been trying to bring up the subject of the nursing home since I came down two hours ago, but chickening out each time I try.

"It is."

"I missed you, Adam, while you were gone," she says, still looking out the window. "But I'm glad you got away. I'm glad you were happy."

"You can get away too," I say and take her hand.

"It's too late for me," she says and suddenly looks at me, her eyes the clearest I've seen in a long time. Maybe since I've been little. There's no dreaminess in them now. "But you should go. You're not happy here."

Tell me about it.

"There's a really nice place out by the lake in Amity. You could have your own room there," I say fast, before I chicken out again. "I think you'd like it there."

She shakes her head, her eyes glazing over again. "I'm sorry I didn't do more for you kids. I don't deserve to like it anywhere."

"What the hell, Ma? Don't talk like that!" I say it too loudly, making her shake. "Of course you deserve it. I don't blame you for anything."

"You should."

"What's done is done. When I leave again, I want to know you're taken care of."

"Your Dad won't let me go," she says, patting my hand now, the dress she was mending slipping to the floor.

"He's not around right now to stop you. And he doesn't need to know where you are," I say. It'd be for the best, and I have it all figured out. I'll be making good money again once I reenlist, and I don't need most of it. I can pay for her care. Brad and Julie will go along with my plan. Theo and Jesse don't even need to know. "How about we go check it out tomorrow. See if you like it."

She nods, but slow like she's sleepwalking again, all the clarity gone from her eyes. "OK, if you want."

"I do," I say and she lets go of my hands, picks up the dress off the floor.

The silence returns to the house, broken only by the hum of the fridge, the occasional creak as the house cools.

At twilight, I see Pat's pick up pull up. I get up slowly, and turn the kitchen light on before meeting him on the porch. My mom doesn’t need to be disturbed by whatever news Pat has, nor by any argument we might get into.

"Brad home?" Pat asks, striding up to the house. I stand in front of the door, blocking it, and shake my head.

"You find out anything?"

Pat leans against the porch column and lights a cigarette. "Not much. But I think the old man might know something."

He spits into the dirt then rubs it out with his boot.

"You mean grandpa?" I ask.

"Yes," Pat says, looking out over the barren field stretching from the house into the woods. "We should go see him tomorrow."

He doesn't sound too happy about it, or maybe that's just me. Grandpa's as mean as they come. He almost makes my dad seem nice in comparison.

"I haven't seen him in more than ten years," I say. And I'm happy to never see him again.

"That mean you're scared to go?" Pat asks, sarcasm oozing from his voice.

"Scared’s a strong word, Pat," I say coldly. I'm so done with every guy in my family questioning my courage. "And I'd say it describes you better in this situation we're in."

"Hell yeah, I'm scared of the old man. He's crazy and aggressive. Don't mean I won't go see him."

"Why is it so important that we find Dad right now?" I ask, since it's time to get to the bottom of it. "He's gone missing before, and he always comes back."

Pat eyes me up and down, and I watch his face struggling with some sort of the decision. Then he looks away, spits on the ground again and tosses his cigarette into it, covering it all with dirt.

"I'll pick you and your brother up at eight tomorrow morning," he says and walks to his truck. "Be ready."

I head back into the house, and straight up to my room after that. I've barely slept in two days now, and the world's got that faded, 2D quality to it where nothing makes a whole lot of sense anymore.