Chapter Twenty-Two
Absolution
Friday, I spend the entire day with Bennie in the store. Though my mind often drifts to Dylan and what he has planned, I keep my focus on my sister. We take turns picking out albums to play until I have to leave for work. Preston doesn’t look my way or attempt to talk to me. While I tell myself it’s for the best, I can’t deny the nagging feeling that wants to reconnect with him and regret for the hurtful things I said. I miss the secret smiles he used to give and the way he’d find any excuse to touch me. I miss his quirks, his notebook with the pencil tucked inside. I miss diner lunches over a grid pattern of plates. I feel my anger toward Preston withering away, but my stubbornness holds on for now.
My night at The Haystack goes great until some out-of-towners start a fight with a local. It turns into a full brawl until the sheriff and Sawyer show up and shut us down.
When everything is done, Sawyer offers me a ride home. I accept when I see that Preston is not waiting outside for my walk home. I’m not sure if it’s because we closed early or because of my hateful words to him the night before. There’s no conversation between Sawyer and me on the short ride to Bennie’s. I gaze out of the cruiser’s window and ask for forgiveness. I beg for forgiveness for leaving the only family I have and setting off on a selfish adventure, forgiveness for being so blind that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me, forgiveness for such hurtful words to a man who—despite his lie—has been kind and protective.
I crawl into bed unhappy with who I am and the decisions I’ve made. Thoughts of “what if” race through my head. Scenarios of my past adventures play out a million different ways. As I drift off to sleep, I press my hand to the wall separating us and ask for Preston’s forgiveness, and the capacity to forgive him, too.
Saturday is more of the same. I hang with Bennie at the store, where she whispers about Preston spending lots of time in his workshop and how he never smiles anymore. Guilt eats away at my anger, but I refocus our conversations. Sometimes Bennie will wince in pain, and I dote over her like a nurse. She always gives me a frown and points out that is why she never told me about her sickness in the first place.
I work my shift at The Haystack and walk home alone. I debate calling Bennie for a ride, but it feels silly to be so afraid. But as I cut through the park again, Dylan creeps into my mind. Every little noise in this quiet town makes me jump. Every street is too dark, every corner a hiding place.
After a shower, I lay in bed and flip through a few photo albums from my closet. I grin at the old Bennie and me, two carefree girls taking their time for granted. Photo after photo of our time together pulls on the last thread holding me together. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes and run toward my pillow. They soak into my hairline at my temples and cool my aching head.
As I wipe my eyes, a hard beat comes through my wall from Preston’s apartment. Then the song kicks in, and I close my eyes as Muse reminds me that our “Time is Running Out.”
…
Sunday morning greets me with a bright window and indentations on my face from the photo album that became my pillow. Bennie makes us oatmeal with chocolate chips and walnuts in it.
“This is so good. Tastes like cookies,” I say with my mouth full.
She chuckles. “Remember when you wouldn’t even try oatmeal? I had to trick you.”
“Yeah. Thanks for that. Otherwise, I’d be missing out.”
We finish breakfast and decide to go back to the lake, since it has become our new Sunday tradition. Bennie asks if I want to invite Preston, but I say no. I want to forgive him. I want to stop holding all this anger in my heart for him. But every time I remember that my time with Bennie is limited and he knew that, it firms my resolve. He should have told me.
We have a great day out at the lake, but leave early when Bennie says she feels bad. Though I’m happy that she doesn’t have to hide this misery from me anymore, I absolutely hate seeing it. On the drive home, I ponder my life without Bennie. Even when I was traveling alone, I knew that Bennie still existed here. I wonder what will be left of me when she is gone or how I’ll survive without her. The thought fills me with anger and bitterness, so I leave that behind and focus on the here and now.
“We should get matching tattoos,” I say.
Bennie doesn’t say a word. She simply smiles from behind her oversize sunglasses.
“Something small, just for us.”
“Like what?” she finally asks.
“I don’t know, hearts?” Bennie squishes up her face. “Okay, no hearts. What if I sign my name on you and you sign your name on me. Then we get them to tattoo it on.”
Bennie gives me a smile and nods. “I like that.”
“Okay.” I return her grin. “Let’s do it.”
After dinner, I wash the dishes and put them away while Bennie heads off to bed. It’s early still, and I feel energized, not ready to settle down. Tired of feeling trapped and tied down to my problems, I need an escape—a night of drinks with strangers and letting loose. I decide to borrow Bennie’s car and head into Franklin. I throw on my favorite black dress and my badass wedges before checking myself in the mirror. For someone who’s miserable on the inside, I don’t look half bad on the outside.
I grab my wallet and Bennie’s keys from the hook by the door and head out. And, of course, Preston stands in the hallway locking his door. He doesn’t look up, but keeps his back to me as I scoot past. At the top of the stairs, I pause and grab onto the handrail. Taking a deep breath, I spin to face him only to find Preston a few inches from my face.
“Shit!” I yell and lose my balance, teetering on the top step.
Preston quickly wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me close. My heart is beating in my throat, not only from the almost-fall, but from being in his arms again. I grab each of his thick biceps and push him away. That frown reappears on his pretty face, and it almost dissipates my determination.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
My insides flutter, not like dandelions blowing in the wind, but like a vibrating beehive. “I’m fine. Thanks for saving me from certain death.”
“Not death, but maybe a twisted ankle. Or a concussion.”
I nod and mentally tell myself to go. My feet don’t listen. They are planted firmly in front of Preston and refusing to move. There is a battle between my head and my heart, and just for kicks, my girlie parts want a vote, too. I miss him. I miss learning about him. I miss the way he smells. I miss his schedules and his need for control. God, do I miss his kisses.
“You look great,” Preston says after a long silence.
I run my hands down the front of my dress and notice that his eyes follow my movement. “Thanks. I didn’t want to be in the house tonight.”
“I’m heading to Coffee Call. Would you like to come?” Preston glances at his watch, looks at me hopefully, and then checks his watch again.
“I don’t know. I was heading to Franklin.”
Preston nods and looks at his feet. He takes a deep breath and blows it out through his pouted lips. When he lifts his head and his eyes meet mine again, something has changed. There is an electric charge in the air between us.
“I’d really love it if you’d come with me, Wren. Give me a chance to explain myself.”
Before I overthink anything, I nod. “Okay. I’ll go.”
Relief washes over him in a way that I can physically see—an exhaled breath, relaxed shoulders, and the crinkles at his eyes.
“Do you want to change your shoes? Or would you like me to drive?”
“You can drive.”
In Preston’s truck, I sit pressed against the passenger-side door. There’s a fat, awkward silence wedged between us on the bench seat. He clicks his seatbelt into place and unfastens it. Preston struggles, repeating the action again and again, finally satisfied with the eighth try.
“Sorry,” he mumbles.
I shake my head, disappointed that we have regressed back to these nervous apologies. Nowhere in this town is very far from the apartment, so after a five-minute drive, we’re parked in front of the café. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, staring into the coffee shop.
When I hop out of the truck, Preston locks my door from the inside. He pulls up on the lock and pushes it back down. I see the frustration building in his expression, his fingers clawing at the lock. Finally, he is pleased and climbs out.
Inside, Preston leads me to a table near the microphone in the corner. He slides the table toward the wall a few inches and arranges the chairs so that they are evenly spaced apart with two of them facing the staging area.
“Can I get you something?” he asks, adjusting his watch back and forth on his wrist.
“Vanilla latte, please.”
I’m a little overdressed for this place, but that doesn’t bother me. What does bother me is the flirtatious smile and fake laugh the coffee girl gives Preston. She is falling all over herself trying to get a reaction from him. Even though I no longer have claim, I am smugly satisfied when he ignores her and returns with our drinks.
Preston sets my latte down and twists the cup until the opening in the lid is facing me. He does the same with his drink and looks up at me. He wraps both hands around his cup and twists it around and around.
I sigh and take a sip of my drink. “You said you wanted a chance to explain.”
“First, I want to apologize. Saying I’m sorry is the best I can do. I mean it. I’m sorry for keeping Bennie’s condition from you. She is your sister, and you had a right to know.”
“You’re right.”
“But she did ask me to keep it from you. It wasn’t my news to tell. I owe her so much for the life she’s given me here, Wren. Bennie is my boss and my friend.”
“And what was I?”
His gray eyes hold mine, a tangible tension between us.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” A crackling voice comes over the speakers, and I look up to find a young girl at the mic. “We’re glad to have you here. All five of you. We’re starting our poetry night off with a new voice. So, show Preston some love. Get up here, you big lug.”
I gasp as he abandons our conversation and makes his way to the mic with heavy, calculated steps. His breathing is quick. Preston’s hands wring together before he slides them deep into the pockets of his jeans. His shoulders are high, a muscle in his jaw tightens, and he is only looking at me.
“A sickness that kills quietly
A secret that burns my tongue
An introduction and she
Commands my universe
I try to keep my distance
But it is futile
Like sailors follow stars
I am led by her light
She quiets razor sharp
Worries and dulls my fears
With teeth over a bottom lip
A pretty word and talk of baseball
She is flawless in her passion
Imperfect in her love
She made me a better man
And even though we are apart
She makes me better still”
Scattered applause startles me out of my daze as tears fill my eyes. I try to blink them away to clear my vision. Preston’s terrified and honest expression, his begging words and confessions, leave me reeling. I want to wrap myself around him and thank him for this gift, this brave show. I can’t imagine the strength it took to stand up there and make himself so vulnerable.
All Preston’s words, as perfect as they are, don’t make our lives any less complicated, though. I still have a violent ex harassing me, I still feel so betrayed by Preston, and my sister is still wasting away before my eyes.
I jump up from our table and stumble over my chair. My eyes focus on the door, and all I can think about is my escape. People move by me in a blur. I hear Preston’s deep and somber voice call my name, but I keep moving. Outside, the night air welcomes me. I hurry across the parking lot and start the walk back to Bennie’s.
Swiping the tears from my face, I clean my mascara-smudged fingers off on the skirt of my black dress. I focus on getting back to the apartment, putting one shaky foot in front of the other. At first the shoes don’t bother me. My walk is fueled by my need to fall apart behind closed doors. A few minutes in, I feel a blister forming on my heel and try to compensate for the discomfort.
I hear Preston’s truck rumbling toward me and close my eyes. The brat in me wants to kick out of these damn shoes and take off running. But I don’t. Instead, I take a deep breath and exhale through my nose.
“Wren, get in,” he says softly, as if easing a child out of hiding.
“No, thanks. I’ll walk.” I continue down the road.
“Come on, Wren. I know those shoes are killing you. Please.”
I stop walking and look at him through the window. “I can’t, Preston. I can’t deal with this…with any of this.” Fresh tears paint my cheeks, and I wipe them away angrily.
“We don’t have to talk. Just let me take you home.”
Standing there, his pleading eyes on me, I give in and climb into the truck. He nods and takes off without another word. When we pull up behind the store, Preston cuts off the headlights and we are sitting in the dark.
“Well, that didn’t go how I’d planned,” Preston says.
I lean my forehead against the cool window and speak without facing him. “Thank you for sharing your beautiful words with me. I know that took so much courage. Believe me when I say that I want to forget everything and crawl into your arms. I want you to hold me and tell me that everything is going to be fine. But that isn’t reality.”
I turn to face him now. Preston’s fingers trace the lines stitched into the seat between us. He doesn’t look up.
“It could be.”
“No, Preston. It can’t. Bennie is dying. She’ll be gone soon, and everything will not be fine. When I came back to Crowley, I never imagined I would find someone like you here—someone to challenge me and unravel me. I never imagined I’d want anyone the way I want you. But I never imagined being hurt so much, either. You and Bennie and this secret? It just about destroyed me.”
“I told you…”
“I know. Bennie asked you to keep it from me. I’m furious at her, too, but I don’t have the luxury of dealing with that anger. She’ll be gone soon, and I won’t spend a minute of our time being mad at her.”
I push open the door and haul myself out of the truck, away from that beautiful boy and all his perfect imperfections.