Starless Nights (Hale Brothers Series Book 2) (39 page)

“Yes, I do remember what you were like the months following the fire. I know better than anyone.” He starts shaking his head. “I knew there was more to it than the burn. I wish you had talked to me. Maybe we could have figured some of this out a long time ago.”

He walks over to the window to stand next to me. His eyes are sad. He blinks at the memory and then gives me a half smile while patting me on the shoulder.

“And you’re right, she did leave you. But if all this boils down to Mom lying to her—then both of you were lied to and the blame is equal. She was told one thing and because of that you were told another. Neither one of you sought out the truth, that’s what you need to be thinking about. Reality is, both of you were fourteen. Fourteen. If this was to happen all over again tomorrow, don’t you think you would handle things a little differently?”

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“No, it doesn’t. We’ve all made mistakes and we’re all moving on from them. The question you should be asking yourself now that you know the truth is, are you going to let all this mess go and finally get the girl, or are you just going to walk away and forget about her?”

“Drew…” Letting out a deep breath, “You don’t understand. She. Broke. My. Fucking. Heart!”

Needing to put some distance between us, I walk over to the couch and flop down.

“No, I don’t understand and I’m sorry for all of the shit that you’ve had to go through! But I do know that you have loved that girl, for years, despite all of this. So man up. It’s time.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and pinches his lips together.

“Man, when you go big bro, you go all out,” I say smirking at him.

He lets out a sigh and drops his arms. “Yeah, I wish I had done it sooner. Leila’s flight leaves in a half hour.”

He immediately has my attention and I sit up straight. “What do you mean? Where is she going?”

“Home.” He’s watching my reaction.

My eyebrows furrow.

“Why?” Worry comes out in my tone, and Drew smiles.

“I don’t know. Charlie called us right after she left and that’s when I decided it was time to come here and check on you.”

Leila’s not in the city. My stomach flips and my nerves instantly go unsettled. Even when things aren’t right between us, I still need her near. This makes me uncomfortable. She’s too far from me.

Drew walks over to my desk, grabs a pen and a piece of paper and jots something down.

“You need to decide. It’s time to end all of this, one way or the other.”

His expression softens as he pauses to look at me.

“You told me once that you were always going to be there for me. Well the same goes to you. Don’t forget that. Call me if you need anything.” And then, he’s gone.

Getting up and walking over to the desk, I pick up the paper.

LaGuardia – Delta – 6:10 a.m. tomorrow morning.

LAST NIGHT, MOM picked me up from the airport. She was surprised when I called her and told her I was coming home, but having some kind of inclination from when we talked last weekend, I was thankful that she didn’t ask any questions. She opened her arms, gave me a much needed hug, in which I cried, and she let me be. I think there were maybe five words spoken the entire hour ride home.

I can’t stop crying.

I know that Charlie doesn’t understand, but I was just sitting in my bedroom waiting, and I know I’m waiting for nothing. He isn’t going to come for me. I listened to his mother and I doubted him, and ultimately us. He said it, I ruined us. It’s because of me that I will never get to be with the one person that I’ve loved forever.

All of this is my fault.

For years, even though I loved him, I’ve had this slight hatred toward him and this anger that never went away. He broke my heart and I lost faith in him. Faith in this person that I thought I knew so well. Six and a half years ago, I walked away feeling deceived and lied to. The bonds of trust that held us so tightly together were severed and I blamed him.

I blamed him.

These words echo in my mind because now I know I have no one to blame but myself.

I’ve always tried to be a good person. To me, it’s character that really defines someone. I’ve never been catty, I don’t gossip, and I try to be kind to everyone. But what it still all boils down to, is that I’m none of these things to the person that meant the most to me. For years, I’ve given him the cold shoulder and an attitude. I didn’t turn my head when the term “Hale whores” was first mentioned in high school, and now I feel bad for all of the girls that were tagged with this too. That nickname implied that both Beau and Drew were less than honorable to those girls, and that wasn’t the case at all. I’ve been so unkind to him.

I’ve deliberately tried to hurt him with my words, and no wonder he looked at me like he did the night I told him he could burn in hell. I don’t think there is any other phrase out there that could have been more awful to say to him. He did burn and I feel so ashamed.

I’m not the person I thought I was, and day after day, it gets harder to breathe. I’m so disappointed in myself, and now that the truth is all finally aired and out, he must be so disappointed in me too.

I started us that day on the beach when we were eight and I finished us the day he received the letter. Thinking about the heartache that I’ve felt over the years, I now know that what I felt couldn't have even compared to the pain and utter heartbreak that Beau felt.

He was sitting in the sand, working so diligently on his sand castle that he didn’t even know I had approached and was watching. I don’t know what it was about him. There were other kids on the beach that I could have asked to play with, but something about him drew me in and led my feet in his direction. His skin was tan, his hair was so messy, and he was frowning. It made me sad to see him sad. I wanted to make him happy—only I didn’t, I ruined him.

It all hurts, everything. It hurts to breathe, it hurts to open my eyes, it hurts to move, and it hurts to think. I can’t stop thinking about what happened to him and how I wasn’t there for him. This person that I claim to love. I need to stop thinking, to shut it off.

Over and over, in my mind I see the words from his journal . . .

I waited for you. I waited for days. At the end of each day before I fell asleep I cried. I cried for you. I cried because I missed you so much and I couldn’t understand why you weren’t coming. I needed you. And then I got your letter. Now, I cry every night because you broke my heart. How could you do this to me? You were my person. Day after day, I pray to God that he will have mercy on me and end me. I want to die and I wish I wasn’t such a coward and could do it myself.

His journal, and thoughts of it, continually cause me to freeze with complete horror. I did that to him. Me! I’m the only person to blame here. He needed me, so badly, and I just deserted him and walked away.

I thought that by giving him the letter and setting him free I was being the bigger person, but I wasn’t.

I let him down. I never asked for an explanation and I never gave him the chance for one either. I understand why he didn’t come after me. Had he sent me a letter like that I probably wouldn’t have either.

Needing fresh air, I know where my heart and my feet are going to take me so I slip on some flip flops, grab my phone, just in case he calls, and head out the door.

Not five minutes later, I feel the vibration before I hear the ring. My heart jumps with hope that it might be him, but it isn’t.

“Hey, Charlie.”

“Hey beautiful. How’s my girl?”

“You’ll be happy to know that I’m out taking a walk.”

“Well that’s good. Did your mom force you outside?”

“No.” A small smile forms at his playfulness.

“Well okay then, this is progress. Maybe you are moving into the acceptance phase.”

“What?” I stop walking.

“You know . . . the healing, making peace with the loss.” There’s uncertainty in his voice. He’s wondering if he’s said something that he shouldn’t—crossed a line, per se.

Hearing him say these things, I feel like I have been hit in the head with a two by four. I can’t think of anything peaceful or healing about this situation, and in a way, he’s made me mad. I don’t even know what to say back to him right now and silence hangs between us.

“I just wanted to check on you, and make sure you’re there and alright. You’ll call me if you need me right?” He knows he upset me.

Letting out a deep breath, I calm the anger, he really wasn’t trying to hurt me. “Of course I will, thanks Charlie.”

“You’re welcome love. Let’s talk soon . . .” And with that, he hangs up.

It’s interesting that he used the word phases. On the plane ride down, it occurred to me that most likely I was floating through the phases of loss; that’s what I have been experiencing. But the only problem with his logic here is that I don’t accept anything and there will be no making peace with Beau walking away from me.

I push forward and keep walking. It’s slightly overcast outside, so the temperature is tolerable and isn’t so bright that I have to squint. Walking past the shops, café, and houses, nothing has really changed and strangely this is soothing.

As my feet hit the sand of the trail, I don’t know if it’s being here, moving through the phases, or that conversation with Charlie, but something inside of me has clicked. Slivers of light are beginning to appear in my darkness, and I have decided that I’m not giving up. I don’t accept this at all. I’ve had an ‘ah ha’ moment and suddenly I see our relationship from a much broader view.

Coming to the end of the trail, I take in the beautiful sight before me. The water is so blue-green, the sand is so white, and there’s our bench. Walking over to sit down, I run my hand across a few sea oats, they are swaying in the breeze, and in a way I feel like they are waving hello at me. My heart smiles for first time in a week. I may be sad and broken right now, but I am resilient. I know what I need to do and I’m not going to give up.

THE CAB DRIVER pulls up to the house, my mother’s car is sitting in the driveway. Having to be at the airport so early this morning, and then sitting on the plane for three hours, anger is pulsing through me. She had to of known this day was going to come, and it is here. I need answers from her and I want them now.

Stepping out of the car, I am facing Ali’s. Part of me doesn’t want to turn around, but I know that I’m going to have too. Taking a deep breath, as the cab drives away, I pick up my bag and turn to look at the house that holds so many bad memories. Suddenly, it doesn’t seem so big and daunting. It used to be such an ugly home to me. Now, I can see some of the beauty in it.

Mom had the exterior painted and the shutters changed. The landscaping is more inviting, and in general, there is more color. It almost looks inviting, but then again I know the truth that lies beyond the walls. The most prominent thing in the yard though, is the ‘For Sale’ sign. She hasn’t mentioned this yet, but for Matt’s sake I can’t help but think
thank God
.

I walk into the house with a slight bit of trepidation, but remain focused on the purpose, and head straight into the kitchen. Mom is standing at the sink, and she turns at the noise. Shock registers across her face at the sight of me and for a brief second, it lights up—and then if falls. I’m certain that my expression is not a friendly one. She knows why I am here.