Chapter Twenty-Four
Zee sat looking at the sunlight dancing along the surface of the river. She sat on the bench her brother had built in this spot for just this purpose, in the shade of the knockaway trees. He’d needed, he said, a place to think. And sometimes, on the worst days, he would bring her here and they would let it out, send the grief down the river, he used to say.
Only when she was older had she realized the enormity of what True had done for her, for them. Giving up his life plans, to come home and take care of his little sister, the only family he had left. And lend a guiding hand to Jamie as well, and help Aunt Millie by fixing things that needed it, so she could focus on her own newly acquired family.
Without those two people, Zee didn’t know what would have become of either one of them.
I’m mad because you didn’t mean it.
Jamie was a very smart guy, but sometimes he could be thick as an adobe brick. Didn’t mean it? Hadn’t she never stopped meaning it? Her brother had been right that day when, in this very spot, he had told her that her breakup with Nick was inevitable.
You never give anybody a real chance, Zee. Because in your heart, you’ve never let go of Jamie.
She stared at the water, sliding past mostly in silence, only the rush where it narrowed past the limestone outcropping audible.
Anger is still caring…
Damn her wisdom-spouting brother anyway. She hated that he’d seen it, that she had converted her love into anger because it was easier to say she was mad at him than that she still loved him after he’d gone. Or maybe it was less…what, humiliating? Embarrassing? She’d always told everyone that she was so happy for him, that he’d gone chasing a huge dream and caught it. Only with those closest to her had she ever let the rest out.
And now he was here, and by all appearances was going to stay. For a while anyway. And then what? He would leave again? Smashing her heart all over again?
Only if you give it to him again.
She was so lost in her thoughts and memories that it didn’t register that she’d heard a car. The sound ended before it even got through the tangle. But the footsteps she heard. Without turning to see who it was she glanced at her phone. She’d been sitting here for over an hour, and was no closer to cutting through the snarl of her emotions. Others came here, she knew, once they’d discovered the bench True had built. And since she obviously was making no progress, she might as well surrender the peaceful spot to someone who might.
She stood up. Turned.
Jamie.
“How did you find me?”
“True. He said you might be here.”
“Remind me to thank him,” she said, fighting to keep a sour note out of her voice. The last person she wanted to see when she was trying to make sense of this huge knot of feelings was the guy at the heart of it all. Especially when she was trying to forget that there were likely thousands just like Ms. L.A. who would jump him instantly given the slightest encouragement. Which he thankfully hadn’t given. But then he wouldn’t, not with her standing right there. Jamie had too much class for that.
Just watching him walk toward her was putting her pulse in overdrive. How did he do that, move like that? Like he was some barely leashed wild thing?
The same way he slips that leash on stage and enthralls thousands.
He reached the bench. Only then did she realize she’d actually sunk back down on it. She studied the grain of the wood, as if all the answers were somehow hidden there, if only she could find them.
“Your brother’s not mad at me,” he said.
“No. He never was. He loves you, too.”
Something flashed in those vivid green eyes, as if he was wondering exactly how she’d meant that “too.”
Both ways. And more importantly, present tense.
She couldn’t deny it any longer. Jamie Templeton had ever owned her heart, and hard as it was to face, he apparently still did.
He was very quiet for a moment. Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped, staring out at the river. “Not a day went by, not one, that I didn’t wish you were with me.”
Something tightened inside her at the clearly heartfelt and honest declaration. “I…wanted to be. But I couldn’t.”
“I know. You love this place and didn’t want to leave. And couldn’t leave your brother. Not then.”
“It wasn’t just that.” If he could be this honest, didn’t she owe him the same? “I couldn’t handle the…glare. All the focus, the fuss, being the center of the storm as it were. And being with you, in that world…that’s what it meant.”
His brow furrowed, but then he nodded. “You always were that rare person, who didn’t want to be the center of attention.”
Of course he understood. Jamie always understood. “I’d had enough of it as the local object of pity, after the accident.” She gave him the best smile she could manage. “You were much better at handling that than I was.”
“That’s because I hid out most of the time. You kept right on with your life. I avoided mine, except for you and Aunt Millie.”
“And look what came of that,” she said softly. “The most wonderful, beautiful music.”
His eyes went shuttered in the instant before he looked away, went back to staring at the river. As if he’d slammed a door. She almost gaped at him, so sudden and definite had it been.
“Jamie?”
It was a moment before he spoke again. “I’ve truly missed this place,” he said. “I think I finally understand a little of what you felt, back then. Aunt Millie told me I would, when I’d been away long enough.”
“She said that?”
“She did,” he said, finally looking at her again, “and that we were meant to be.”
Zee blinked. “What?”
He laughed, whatever had hit him so hard a moment ago gone now. Or so tightly under wraps she couldn’t see it. “Exactly what I said. She only answered that was for us to figure out.”
Zee laughed in turn—she couldn’t help it. “Now if that isn’t a typical Aunt Millie answer!”
“She was one of a kind,” he said softly.
“And we were all luckier for it,” she said.
“Yes. The best thing is, she felt the same way.”
And there, sitting on the bench built by her brother on the river they both loved, they were as close as they’d ever been. And she vowed that no matter what else happened or didn’t, this, at least, they would keep.