“DO YOU NEED ANYTHING, sweetie?”
Delaney’s mom stands in the doorway of her guest room, a light blue robe tied at her waist. She was so kind when I pulled up, mascara smearing down my face. But seeing her standing here, that maternal aura around her—I just want my mom.
“It’s late,” I tell her. “Go to bed. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be down the hall if you need me.” She steps into the hallway and pulls the door softly behind her.
The late night moon shines in the window of the bedroom I’ve never stayed in before. As soon as Peck dropped me off at home, I hopped into my car and drove here, not knowing Delaney went to Chicago for the weekend. I knew Walker would come by and I didn’t want to see him. As I lie here, alone, so very, very alone, I replay every moment I’ve had with him over in my mind.
It’s unbelievable to think he was married the whole time I was with him. The web of emotions is too tightly strung together to even make sense of them. The anger gives way to embarrassment which opens up to a sadness that I’ve never felt before.
The tears fall as I think back to twenty-four hours ago and the way Walker held me while he slept. Was all that fake? Did he not believe any of the things he said or mean any of the ways he made me feel?
Why would he do this to me?
A little alarm clock sits by the bed, the red numbering glowing in my face. I lift my phone and press the power button, only to see more texts and phone calls than I can count.
Scrolling through my contacts list, I find the only person who I know will be up at one in the morning and not livid I call. It rings twice.
“Sienna?” Graham’s voice is full of concern and that only makes the tears fall again. “Sienna? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, Graham . . .” I laugh through the tears, a little sister calling her big brother for help in the middle of the night. How pathetic can one person be in one day?
“What the hell is happening up there?”
“I just wanted to hear your voice.”
He laughs. “We both know that’s highly unlikely.”
“Definitely unlikely.” Lincoln’s voice comes on the phone as I hear the speakerphone pick up. “What’s up, Sienna?”
“Why are the two of you together at one in the morning? Don’t tell me Mallory and Danielle kicked you out.”
“We had a meeting in Atlanta and were supposed to stay the night but decided to come home,” Graham explains. “Lincoln was just dropping me off.”
“You let him drive?”
“Not my best choice, but yes,” Graham sighs.
“I got us home in about half the time it would’ve taken you,” Lincoln points out. “Stop complaining.”
“Anyway,” Graham cuts in, “what’s up with you? Are you crying?”
“A boy . . .” My voice breaks and I can almost hear my brothers flinch.
“We can be there in a few hours,” Lincoln says flatly. “Want me to bring Dominic?”
“No,” I laugh through the tears. “You don’t need to bring Cam’s fighter boyfriend.”
“So I can take him on my own?”
“Lincoln, stop,” I sigh. “I need logical help here, G.”
“I have you,” Graham says calmly. “Shoot.”
Taking a deep breath, I go for it. “I’ve been seeing a guy for a while. We’ve had fun—”
“We don’t need this part,” Lincoln interjects.
“We’ve seen each other pretty regularly,” I continue. “Every day, really. He’s been totally into me, taking me to hang out with his family, I’ve met his grandmother, and all that. And then I find out tonight that he’s married.”
“What the hell?” Graham barks. “He’s married?”
“Yup.”
“I’m gonna beat his face in,” Lincoln seethes.
“Shut up, Lincoln,” Graham says, his wheels turning. “Did you know this? No, of course you didn’t,” he grumbles. “Why didn’t he tell you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did his family know?”
“I guess. I don’t really know. Some of them did.” I look at the popcorn ceiling and can’t even find it in me to want to scrape it off like I usually do. “Why would he do this to me?”
“That’s a question you’ll have to ask him,” Graham says. “If you want to, that is.”
Lincoln goes on a rant about how they should come to Illinois and teach him a lesson, Graham firing back that they have to think things through. That they have families now and can’t go all crazy like they used to.
I listen to them banter, my mind going to Machlan and Lance. I find myself smiling and then realize they knew too. And not one of them told me.
“Sienna?” Graham asks.
“Yeah?”
“If you weren’t pissed, I’d be pissed at you,” he says. “But I think you need to give the guy a chance to explain.”
“He was married!” Lincoln roars. “Fuck him.”
“I’m with Linc.”
“Both of you clowns better listen to me,” Graham says. “Sienna has never once asked me for advice over a man. She’s never called me crying, except for the time she ran over the kitten on Santa Monica Boulevard.”
“Oh, don’t bring that up,” I say, trying not to cry again.
“The point is,” Graham continues, “I can tell you care about this guy a lot. So even though he’s guaranteed a few head cracks the first time we see him, if we ever do, and more than that if we tell Ford, you need to hear him out. For him, and more importantly, for you.”
“You think so?” I ask.
“I know so. Do you remember what a mess Mallory was when I first met her?” Graham chuckles through the line. “She smelled like bacon every morning. Her desk was a disaster. She went on a date once just to make me jealous.”
“I knew I loved her,” I tease.
“But if I had written her off without giving her a chance, look what I’d have missed out on. Maybe you let the guy go. Maybe you give him another chance. Maybe you come home and get your ass to work for me,” he cracks, getting that little slip in. “But get the facts together before you go making decisions. Be smart, Sienna.”
“I’ll try. Thanks for answering.”
“Always. Goodnight.”
“Night, G. Night, Linc.”
“Love ya, sis.”
I hang up, set my phone on the bedside table, and roll myself up in the covers and try to go to sleep.
I DON’T EVEN BOTHER to turn on the light.
Sitting in the living room, the darkness surrounding me, I close my eyes and feel my world still crumbling. Sienna wasn’t anywhere. I drove by her house, Crank, even Nana’s, and nothing. Her phone is off, but I left so many texts and voice messages I wonder if it’ll even turn on or just melt down when she tries.
I’ve exhausted myself. Every muscle in my body aches, every joint flaring from the adrenaline that shoved through my body for so long tonight. But now it’s gone. Just like Sienna.
Tugging at my hair, I lift my head towards the ceiling and try to think of something other than the way she looked at me on the grass. Like her heart was broken. Like I’m some kind of monster. Like I did this to her on purpose.
This is heartbreak. As I sit in the unlit room, the organ in my chest responsible for pumping blood to my extremities is actually splintered. I can feel each piece puncturing me from the inside out. I’ve never felt this fucked up over anything outside of the death of my parents. And, just like that situation, I’m not sure I’ll ever recover.
“Fuck,” I hiss, tugging once more just to feel the pain before dropping my hands into my lap.
My face feels swollen, my hands achy from being clenched all night. I just want to close my eyes and sleep.
In the quiet, as the rest of the town is tucked happily in their beds, everything kind of settles. Like dust after the wind stops, everything finds its resting spot as I sit alone. Heaps of emotions, piles of mistakes, loads of truths that should’ve been shared aren’t enough to fill the void that Sienna has created.
I should’ve told her. I knew it then and I know it now, but how could I? How could I tell her I wanted her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in the universe, but another woman legally has my last name?
Does that make me selfish? Probably. But I did try to stay away from her and keep my distance. I tried so damn hard to not get involved so I didn’t hurt either of us, but I couldn’t.
And I couldn’t tell her the truth because that would ruin everything.
She wouldn’t want to be with a married man, even though I haven’t seen Tabby in years. Even though I didn’t care enough about her when she left to chase her down to sign the papers.
Headlights turn up the driveway. Leaping to my feet, I race to the window to see a little compact car pulled up next to my truck and Tabby walking up the steps. She knocks once, then twice. Not sure of myself, not positive I can rein in my emotions, I wait to see what happens before opening the door.
“Walker, it’s me. Open up.”
Her voice is so odd. It takes me to days at the lake, planning a family, our wedding on that same lakeshore. What’s even more odd is that I feel absolutely dead about it all.
I pull the door open and see her for the second time in years. She looks a little older, still incredibly pretty, her green eyes taking me back to so many years ago.
“Hey,” she says, feeling me out.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Can I come in?”
“No.”
“Walker . . .”
I step onto the porch, shutting the house behind me. “What are you doing here, Tab?”
“I . . . I don’t know, really.”
My gaze settles across the front yard illuminated by the moon, to the spot Sienna and I had discussed putting a hammock. My chest feels like it’s caving in and I jump, blasted out of my thoughts, when Tabby speaks.
“It’s been a long time.” She leans on the railing. “Your place is nice. I had to ask around to see where you lived. Imagine my surprise when I pulled up to our house and realized we didn’t live there anymore.”
I’ve waited for this conversation since the morning she walked out. This is the moment in time I’ve envisioned, when I tell her what an idiot she is, that I hand her the divorce papers Blaire had drawn up way back then and demand she sign them.
This is when I tell her I never loved her, that I knew she was sleeping around, and that I didn’t even care enough to go after her. This is the moment I tell her what a bitch she was to leave me when I was dealing with the loss of my parents, that I throw in her face that the shop is still doing well despite her insistence it wasn’t a way to make a living.
But now that we’re standing here, none of that matters. I don’t give enough of a fuck to inflict any pain on the woman, to tell her how I feel, to give a shit where she’s been or that she knows my life is better without her in it. All of the things I’ve waited patiently for don’t. Fucking. Matter.
Whipping out my phone, I check the home screen for what does matter. The glow shows no missed calls or texts.
“Why didn’t you come for me?” she asks, her voice drifting through the night.
“Why didn’t you come back?”
She slumps forward, weighed by the history she and I don’t share. “Maybe we were too young to have gotten married.”
I glare at her. “You asked why I didn’t come for you. You sure as hell knew the way back.”
“I’m sorry.”
Checking my phone again, there’s still no new messages. Bouncing my hand off the railing, I turn and lean against it.
“Who is she?” she whispers.
“None of your concern.”
“Being that she’s sleeping with my husband, I think—”
“I’m not your husband any more than you’re my wife,” I warn. “If you think you can trot your sorry ass back in here and act like you have some kind of say in anything I have going on, you have another think coming. And,” I say, my voice rising over her start of an objection, “if you say a word about Sienna . . .”
She blanches, not expecting this reaction, and blows out a breath.
“This conversation would’ve been very different if I could’ve explained things to her before you came in,” I sigh. “But that was probably your plan, huh?”
“She didn’t know you’re married?”
I just glare at her from the corner of my eye.
“Wow.” She twists her earring, looking at anything but me. “I didn’t know she didn’t know.”
“Guess you got a freebie.”
“I . . . Damn it, Walker.”
“No, damn you, Tabby,” I say, spinning around. “Why the fuck did you do this? You don’t give a shit about me. You never did. What is it? Do you need something? Were you bored? Just trying to piss me off for old time’s sake? Because all of that I can handle. You can ride my ass about still being the poor mechanic at Crank—”
“Walker—”
“You can tell me how I can do so much better than this shitty little farmhouse—”
“Walker—”
“You can tell the entire fucking town I lost my shit when my parents died and almost lost us the house because I drowned myself in alcohol and couldn’t get out of bed. You can do all of that and I don’t even give a fuck, Tab. But what you just did tonight to Sienna is something even I didn’t think you’d do,” I growl, stopping to take a much needed breath.
“You think I should give a shit about her?”
I look at the woman I once thought I loved. “Peck warned me. He kept saying I should tell Sienna or go find you and end this sham fucking marriage before she found out, but I didn’t. Despite all of their warnings, I didn’t think you’d stoop this low. I figured I could wait a while. No sense in finding you if I didn’t have to.”
Folding my hands together, I press them into my forehead. My temper is creeping through the numbness and I’m not sure how to handle it.
I want to scream, tell her exactly what I think of her, dress her down in ways she’s never imagined. But all I can see is Sienna’s face and hear her laugh and that takes the fight right out of me. How do you fight with a broken heart?
“You love her, don’t you?” Tabby’s voice is soft, so soft, in fact, I almost don’t hear it despite the peace of the night.
“What does it matter?”
She walks the length of the porch, her arms wrapped around her stomach like it’s not eighty degrees outside. I check my phone once more. When I look up, Tabby is looking at me.
“Is she ignoring you?” she asks.
“Wouldn’t you?” I huff.
“What are you going to do?”
I hate the way she asks, like there’s a simple answer to fix this. Like I can make a quick try to get Sienna back and if that doesn’t work, move on.
Fuck her.
“I’m going to get you to sign the divorce papers and then go find her,” I say through gritted teeth.
Her features wash, becoming neutral, any sense of kindness or sadness wiping away. “You’re going to try to find her?”
“No. I’m not going to try. I’m going to find her,” I shrug, clutching my phone like it will prompt her to call me.
“But you didn’t try to find me.”
“Nope.”
She looks out across the night. “Do you think we could’ve fixed things if one of us had come for the other?”
“If I would’ve found you, it would’ve been to get you to sign the papers,” I tell her. “I just didn’t care enough to even try. Our marriage was over long before you left. We both know that.”
“Why didn’t you fight for it?” she asks, a single tear rolling down her cheek. “Why didn’t you fight for us?”
It’s a fair question, even though I could turn it around on her. As I look at her across the porch, the gentle summer breeze playing with the ends of her hair, my heart squeezes with the answer to her question.
“I didn’t fight for us then because of pride. I didn’t fight for us through the years because of anger. I’m not fighting for us now because my heart is so tied up in Sienna that nothing else exists.”
“Maybe we could fix things? Maybe we could fall in love again?” she asks, the words squeezed around the emotion filling the spaces between the words. “I miss you so much.”
I hold her gaze for a split second before raising a finger. I go inside, flip on the light, and head to the old secretary’s desk that used to be my mother’s. There’s a file at the bottom of the cavity, the little flags indicating spots for signature. I take it and a black ballpoint pen and head back to the porch.
Tabby is standing in the same spot, black trails streaming down her cheeks.
“I need you to sign here and here,” I say, placing the file on a little table and showing her the spots with flags with “TG” tagged on them by Blaire.
She doesn’t move. “You’re so handsome, Walker. You remind me so much of your dad.”
“Tabby . . .”
“I wondered if I’d come out here and you’d start throwing cans of pop out the door at my car the way you and Lance did that night of the bonfire at Tommy Jones’. Remember that?” she grins through the tears. “My God, you guys were horrible.”
“He deserved everything he got,” I say, remembering that night.
“Yeah, he did.” She pulls her hair into a small ponytail at the back of her neck before wiping her face with the back of her hands. “You’ve really turned into a good man.” Her lip quivers, the tip of her nose turning red. “Sienna is a lucky woman.”
Without another word, just a sniffle as she tries not to dot the divorce papers with her tears, she takes the pen and signs her name to both spots.
“Tell Sienna I’m sorry,” she says, climbing down the stairs. “And Walker?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry to you too.”
She gets into her car and backs down the driveway, honking the horn once before speeding away. I pull out my phone again, this time opening the texting app.
There are lines and lines of green text bubbles from the course of the night, all filled with me apologizing, begging her to call, begging her to text, me trying to explain. I don’t know what else to even say. Still, I can’t help but punching out another one.
ME: If you need someone to talk to and don’t want to talk to me, call Peck. Please. Just let someone know you’re okay.