Letting Go (12 page)

A sharp laugh burst from my chest, and I rolled my eyes. “Oh yes, please, I would love nothing more than that,” I said drily.

“You never know, Grey, you might just fall in love with them.”

“Doubtful. But, really, enjoy them for me.”

I wasn’t a fan of reading much, as it was, but romance was definitely the opposite of what I would look for if I was. Charlie had been trying to get me into reading since she started high school, but I didn’t see the point. Because of romance novels, she had expectations that were absurdly high when it came to guys, and even though I’d always joked with her that she’d only ever find those kinds of guys in books, she’d just smile dreamily and say, “He’s out there.”

“I will get you to read one, Grey LaRue. One of these days, I promise you.”

“They’re all fairy-tale-ish, and there’s always the happy ending that never happens in real life.”

Charlie looked like I’d just stuck a knife in her stomach. “It does happen in real life, but not all the stories have happy endings. And fairy tale? Come on, Grey, this isn’t
Cinderella
.”

I laughed softly and took a sip of my drink. “You know what I mean. Girl meets guy, they’re perfect for each other. Something happens that will threaten to keep them apart, and then they live happily ever after.”

Charlie’s expression told me she was trying to figure out a way to disagree, but then her shoulders slumped and she mumbled, “Yeah, that’s usually how it goes.”

“See?”

“But there’s so much more in them! Yeah, okay, fine . . . that’s generally the outline to any romance novel, but it’s what happens to fill up that outline that makes it amazing. It’s the different circumstances, it’s the lengths they’ll go to in order to be together, it’s their
struggles
that are real.”

“Your inner nerd is showing,” I teased.

“I’m serious, Grey. They’re not all perfect.” She looked away for a second, and I actually worried that she was too involved in these books when I saw the deep sadness embedded in her features.

“Hey, I was kidding.”

Charlie looked back at me and smiled, but there was still that sadness her eyes weren’t able to hide. “No, I know you were. I wasn’t offended by what you said. But I don’t believe everything is a fairy tale, Grey. Life hurts; there are parts of life that are so major that they’ll change you completely. We’re all on this giant roller coaster and you never know when you’re going to go down, or just how far down you’ll actually have to go. But those drops and those climbs are what make us, and make our life what it’s supposed to be—whether it hurts or not.”

I couldn’t move or say anything as I sat there listening to her. This girl I’d grown up with and who had always been so quiet and shy because she lived in her books sounded like her world had been crushed. I couldn’t think of anything in her life that would rock her enough to make her sound like this.

“Like I said, I don’t believe everything is a fairy tale. But I do believe that everyone meets someone in their life who will make it seem like their life is as close to a fairy tale as it can get.”

“Okay,” I said on a breath.

“Anyway!” She straightened her back and shook herself as a bright smile lit up her face. “I will get you to read a book one day, just you wait.”

“And I’ll just leave it there because I love the smell of books.” I looked behind me at all the shelves of books, and smiled. “I would work here just so I could have two of the best smells in the world. Coffee and books.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Hmm?” I turned to look at Charlie, my forehead creased. “Why don’t I what?”

“Work here. You told me the other night at Jagger’s that you were looking for a job. Unless you start your own business, you’re not going to find much in Thatch. Or you could always travel into another town to work in an office.”

“I don’t want to work in an office,” I grumbled. “I can’t see myself sitting behind a desk all day.”

“Didn’t think so, and unless you’re about to turn into my mom and go through a bunch of phases where you try to make things, I’d say you don’t have many options.”

“Your mom and her phases . . .” I trailed off and laughed. “Yeah, definitely not going in that direction either.”

“So then what’s wrong with here?”

I looked around The Brew, pretending to look at it like I was seeing it for the first time. Until I was six or so, the coffee shop and bookstore had been two separate businesses. We didn’t have a Starbucks in Thatch; if you wanted amazing coffee, you went to The Brew. The bookstore had been owned and run by an old woman who really only carried books that she liked to read. When she got to a point in her life where she knew she needed to stop working, she’d just been planning to shut down the bookstore. And considering we didn’t have a library or actual bookstore anywhere within an hour from here, that meant bye bye books.

The owners of The Brew had bought out her store, knocked out the wall separating them, and updated the books and the look of the store so it was now inviting and there was something for everyone. On Thursday nights there was live music, and it really was one of the best places in Thatch to just sit and relax—especially during the winter. Jerry and Anne were the owners, and you never found the store without both of them in it. They loved their shop and all the people in it, and would easily be the best bosses around.

“I guess nothing is wrong with working here. I love this place, I’d just never thought of working here. I’ll talk to Anne before I leave.”

“There you go. Job search over,” Charlie said confidently, and I snorted.

“Uh, one, I never actually started searching. Two, no one said they would hire me.”

“Well, considering I talked to Anne while I was looking for books, and she told me she was going to have to put up a sign soon since one of the employees quit because she was having twins, and two of the others put in two-week notices since they were leaving for college . . . I’d say she’d be happy if you told her you wanted a job.”

“I
would
be happy.”

I turned around to see Anne standing at the end of the couch, bent over so she could rest her elbows on the arm.

“Good morning, Anne,” I said with a smile.

It didn’t surprise me that she’d chimed in on our conversation. That’s how she was, always flitting around the shop, talking with everyone. If it weren’t for Jerry, she’d probably stay out talking the entire day.

“Morning, girls. So, Grey, you gonna come work for me?”

“Would you like me to?”

“Let me think . . .” She clucked her tongue and gave me a look. “Um, of course! Why don’t you come in next Monday around two-ish, I’ll have you do all the paperwork, and then we’ll start training you for the registers and the coffee.”

I looked at Charlie and she gave me an I-told-you-so smile before I could look back at Anne. “That sounds perfect, I’ll be here.”

“Great! Now I better get back to looking like I actually do something around here before that husband of mine starts complaining. Have a good day, ladies!”

Charlie and I called out our good-byes, and I turned to glare at Charlie. “You told her I was looking for a job,” I accused.

“Of course I did. She’d just finished telling me about all the employees who were leaving and being short staffed, and I told her you’d been looking into getting a job. She was going to call you to
ask
you to come in, but I told her I was meeting you here anyway. So . . . done! You now have a job.”

“Well then, thank you?” I laughed awkwardly. “Good to know I have people who will set up jobs for me.”

Charlie smirked. “Whatever. You know you would’ve applied as soon as you saw that sign. You’re in here enough as it is, you might as well work here.”

“Clearly.” I gestured in the direction Anne had walked off. “Anyway, on to other things. Is there anyone you’ve been interested in or seeing while we were at school . . . ?” I let the question trail off.

“No.”

“No? Come on, Charlie, there has to be someone. You are gorgeous—”

“And shy around anyone who isn’t you or my family,” she added, cutting me off. “There’s just no one here who catches my eye.”

“That doesn’t mean you haven’t caught their eye. Has anyone
tried
to talk to you?”

She looked like she was trying really hard to think, and finally she shrugged. “I don’t know; I don’t pay attention.”

“Why not? See? Those books you read are ruining you for real men.”

“They’re not!” she said on a laugh. “I’ve never had a boyfriend . . . I don’t want one.”

“So you’re just going to become an old cat lady . . . or a nun?” I asked, my voice and expression flat.

“No, I’m not. I just—I haven’t found someone who has shown himself to be worth my time.” That same sadness I’d seen earlier was back, and her eyes seemed somehow unfocused as if she were seeing things I couldn’t even begin to imagine. “Trust me, I’ll know when there’s a guy who’s worth it.”

I waited for a few moments to see if she would expand on that, and it wasn’t until I started talking again that she shook off her expression. “You’ve never dated anyone, and you seem to avoid guys, but you look like your heart has been shattered by someone. I don’t get it. Did something happen to you, Charlie?” I finished on a whisper, fear and panic clawing at my stomach at the thought of someone hurting her or taking advantage of her.

“What?” Her eyes widened when she got what I was asking. “No! Oh my God, no, nothing has happened to me. You would’ve known; Jagger would’ve been the first person I called if something like that ever happened.”

The panic and fear eased up, but I still didn’t understand how she could look like someone had broken her. “Then why—”

“It’s like you said,” she said loud enough to cut me off again, “the books I read are ruining me for real men. I know I’ll never find someone like the guys I read about, and it’s kind of depressing.” Charlie tried to laugh it off, but I knew that wasn’t it.

I stifled a gasp when it hit me, and leaned closer to her. “Charlie, no one will think differently of you if you’re gay.”

“Whoa, what? Grey, I’m not . . . I’m not into that. No. Really, you’re looking into this too hard. There’s nothing. No guys, no girls, nothing. Just me and my books and a depressing world of guys who will never be enough.”

I sat back and blew out a deep breath. “Sorry, I was just trying to understand where you’re coming from.”

She shook her head, a smile crossing her face. “Really, it’s fine. And I’m fine.”

I would’ve tried harder to believe her if her voice hadn’t cracked at the end, and if she didn’t look like she was seconds away from breaking down. I couldn’t think of anything to explain her sadness and knew she probably wouldn’t admit to it even if I had guessed correctly. But seeing her pain, I knew I would keep trying to figure out what had happened to her to make her so unhappy.

Chapter 9

Grey

July 31, 2014

M
Y FOOTST
E
P
S
F
A
L
T
E
R
E
D
as I walked out of The Brew a few days later, and my spine straightened as a chill ran through my entire body. Looking around to see if anyone was watching me, I glanced back at the piece of paper that was tucked in between the windshield and wiper and slowly closed the distance to my car, my eyes never leaving the seemingly harmless sheet. After unlocking the car and putting the coffee inside, I climbed back out and looked around one more time before reaching for the paper, ice sliding through my veins as I did so. There were people I knew all around, but none that looked like they were waiting for this . . . for me to find whatever had been left for me.

I could have easily walked around my car, inspecting it to see if someone had hit it and left their information, but I didn’t. And I didn’t let my mind even think of Jagger leaving me a letter . . . because not only was he at his place waiting for this coffee, but he wouldn’t do something like this to me. Because he knew. Everyone who knew us knew. Ben had left notes on my car every day. No matter what. It could’ve been something as simple as a smiley face or an
I love you,
or it could have been something long that had my heart melting. But every day after I got my first car, there had been a note. Notes that stopped abruptly with his death.

Taking a deep breath, I opened the paper with shaky hands. A cry burst from my chest as my eyes ran over the page, and I stumbled back. I looked around furiously for someone,
anyone
. There were people giving me worried looks, but none who looked like they knew exactly what I’d just seen. None who looked like they’d put Ben’s wedding vows on my windshield. His handwriting, words and lines crossed out as he’d tried to perfect the vows.

“Grey, darling?”

“What?” I cried as I whirled around, startling one of my old teachers from high school.

“Are you okay? You don’t look so well.”

“I—I, I don’t . . . I don’t know. I have to go!”

She reached out for me, but I quickly backed up into my car. “Really, darling, you don’t look well. Should we call someone for you?”

“N-n-n-no. I’m fine!”

“Are you sure? Maybe you should—”

I swung open the door to my car and slid in as I nearly shouted, “I’m sorry, but I have to leave!”

I tossed the paper onto the passenger seat, and fumbled through my purse with shaking hands, looking for my phone so I could call Jagger. This was a dream, this was a joke, I was going—I was going . . .

My blood ran cold and the world seemed to tilt as a high-pitched ringing started in my head. Blocking out my old teacher knocking on the window, blocking out the sound of other cars and people outside, blocking out everything other than that fucking deafening ringing.

My jaw trembled as I tried to open my mouth to deny out loud what I was seeing.

There, on the lock screen of my phone, was a Facebook message notification.

Ben Craft: Forever, Grey.

The phone slipped from my trembling fingers, and I pressed my hands to my head as the sound grew louder. It wasn’t until my door was wrenched open and I was being pulled out of the car that I realized the deafening noise was my screaming.

Someone was shaking me, someone was gripping my face and forcing me to look at them, someone was shouting—but I couldn’t hear the words, I couldn’t focus on the face, I couldn’t feel the jarring effect the shaking should’ve been having on my body. All I knew in that moment was the paper filled with vows, and the message waiting for me to view.

Impossible. I was going insane. This is what it felt like to truly lose yourself, and for a second, I wondered why it had taken so long for it to happen, or if it had been happening all along. I wondered if I was going to come back to reality and find myself in a bland, white room where a nurse would come medicate me. Because this—this couldn’t be real, and I wasn’t dreaming, because if this had been a dream, I would’ve woken up by now.

“Grey! Grey! What’s happening?” someone shouted, followed closely by someone else’s yell, “Has anyone called an ambulance yet?”

My screams had ended, only to be replaced by a hyperventilation so extreme, I was waiting for the moment when it would become too much for me to handle. I hung, hunched over in someone’s arms, clawing viciously at them as I tried to steady my breathing, but the panic only seemed to rise.

“B-Ben!” I shouted through rapid breaths, and I heard the person behind me sigh sadly.

“Poor girl still isn’t over what happened.”

“You need to try to breathe, Grey,” another voice said soothingly. “Calm your breathing. Big, deep breath in. Hold it as long as you can, and then let it out.”

No matter how many times she said it, my breathing never changed.

“Graham’s already on his way, I called him a few minutes ago. He’ll be here soon. Big, deep breath in, Grey.”

I looked back up at the girl, and even though I knew I’d grown up with her, I couldn’t focus on her face, I had no idea who she was. All I knew was Ben.

Ben. Ben. Ben. Ben. Ben.

Forever, Grey. Forever, Grey. Forever, Grey.

Another scream tore through my throat before my world went blurry with tears. I placed my hands on the sidewalk below me, allowing the person behind me to continue holding me up as I sobbed toward the ground until I heard my brother’s voice above everything else.

“What’s happening?” he asked loudly to everyone surrounding me before pulling me out of the man’s arms, and curling me onto his lap. “God, Grey, it’s okay. What’s wrong? What happened, kid?” he crooned. “Talk to me.”

I sobbed into his chest as the people around me spoke to him.

“Grey, you gotta tell me what’s wrong. The ambulance is almost here, do you need to go to the hospital?”

It was then I heard the sirens, and I shook my head fiercely as I tried to back away from him. My breathing was ragged again, and I tried to look past the crowd circling us, toward my car.

“B-Ben. H-h-he . . . vows.”

“Grey,” Graham whispered. “No, it’s okay. He’s—kid, he’s gone.”

“He’s not!” I screeched, and tried to scramble from his lap, but he didn’t let me get far. When I looked back at his face, I saw a look conveying thoughts I’d just been having. He thought I’d lost it.

“What the hell is going on?”

I turned quickly at the sound of Jagger’s frantic voice, and Graham helped me stand in time for Jagger to wrap his arms around me.

“I’ve been getting calls for the last ten minutes. What’s happening?” he asked Graham, but then cupped my cheeks and lowered his head to ask me, “Are you hurt? Why is there an ambulance pulling up?”

Even if I could say anything in that moment, Graham would’ve beaten me to it. “From what everyone’s saying, she isn’t hurt, but I think the medics should check her over.”

Jagger’s green eyes bounced over my face before looking over at Graham. “Why? What’s going on?”

The EMTs started parting the crowd, making their way toward us, but Jagger just tightened his grip on me until Graham said, “She thinks Ben is here.”

I felt a jolt go through Jagger’s body, and he slowly pushed me back so he could look down at me again. “Grey, you . . . you think that—what?”

“Is this who we were called for?” an EMT asked, and reached for me.

“Don’t touch me! I’m fine!”

“Grey,” Jagger and Graham said at the same time.

Tears were still falling down my cheeks, and my chest was still rising and falling too erratically, but the last thing I wanted was to be checked over by these men. Despite the body-numbing terror that had filled me when I’d seen the note and the message, I needed to see it again to know I wasn’t insane. I needed Jagger and Graham to see it to confirm my sanity.

“Ma’am, are you—”

“Please! I’m fine. I don’t . . . I don’t need help.”

The three medics looked at each other before shrugging and asking around if anyone else had been hurt in the “incident.”

Graham was busy getting people to back away from us when Jagger tilted my head back again. “Talk to me, baby.”

“There was—he left . . . I don’t know how it happened, Jag,” I cried, and pressed my forehead into his chest.

“Mrs. Reil said Grey kind of freaked after she pulled something off her car,” Graham said when he came back. “She said she tried to get Grey to talk to her because she looked like she was panicking, but Grey got in her car, and when she did, she just started screaming and wouldn’t stop. They had to pull her out of her car and she kept screaming.”

“What’d you pull off your car?” Jagger asked quietly in my ear, but fresh tears filled my eyes, and I couldn’t force anything from my mouth. “Where is it, Grey?”

I shook my head against his chest for long seconds before whimpering, “I can’t be crazy. I know what I saw.”

“Babe, look, you
need
to help me here. I want to help you, but I can’t if you’re not giving me anything to go on. What did you pull off your car, and where is it?”

I stepped back from him, and looked from him to Graham’s worried expression before glancing at the remaining people on the sidewalk. I didn’t want them there; I didn’t want an audience. Because if I was wrong—if I hadn’t really seen what I thought I’d seen—I didn’t want a dozen people who had known me my entire life to witness my loss of sanity. And if the letter and message were still there, I wasn’t okay with anyone else getting a glimpse of something so personal.

Taking a ragged breath, I gripped Jagger’s hand and walked slowly toward my open car door. Each step felt weighted. With each one, the dread of what might not be in there, and the fear of what I somehow knew
was
in there, continued to grow.

I reached down to grab my phone from the floorboard before sliding into the seat of my car. My hands shook when I saw the piece of paper lying on the passenger seat, and when I grabbed it, I turned to look at Graham and Jagger standing by the door, blocking my view of everyone on the sidewalk. Both looked worried, confused, and like they weren’t sure what to do with me.

Once I calmed my breathing enough to speak, I told them about finding the letter. Both listened closely, neither saying anything as they listened to my weak and shaky voice.

“I was only in the shop for maybe six minutes, seven tops. I hadn’t been looking outside while I was in there, so I don’t know who went past my car. But when I came out, this was tucked under my windshield wiper.” I held up the folded piece of paper, and both Jagger and Graham sent me looks of pain. They knew where my thoughts had gone when I saw the paper, but they had no idea how bad it was yet.

“It could’ve been a coin—” Graham started, but I kept talking.

“I opened it, and I thought I must have been dreaming, or someone was playing a joke on me. There was no—” I cut off on a sob. “No way this could’ve been here. I got inside my car to call you,” I said, looking at Jagger. “But when I found my phone, there was a push notification on my lock screen, and that’s when . . . that’s when . . .” I shrugged helplessly, not knowing how to continue.

I clicked the lock button on my phone and a strangled cry bubbled past my lips when I saw that the message was still there. I hadn’t imagined it. It had been real. Just as the guys began asking what had been on my phone and the paper, I handed over both, and a weighted silence seemed to fill the space of my car for a few moments before Graham erupted in curses.

Jagger’s face went completely pale, his head shaking back and forth. “Who did this?” he asked himself before turning around to yell the same thing. Holding up the vows as he glared at the people still standing on the sidewalk. “Huh? Who the fuck pulled this shit?”

Graham was asking everyone who had been near my car, but the way he was asking was scaring people to the point where all they were able to do was shake their heads and back away from him.

The phone vibrated in my lap where Graham had dropped it, and I looked down to see a text from Janie, the notification from Ben sitting untouched below hers. My fingers felt like ice as I slid my thumb across the screen, opening up the Facebook messages. I looked at the small picture of Ben and me before glancing down at the message that had been sent to me almost thirty minutes ago, the ones before that from well over two years ago.

In my head, I knew he was gone. I knew this wasn’t him, and I couldn’t let myself believe he was sending me messages.
He’s gone, Grey. He’s gone.
With a steady breath out, I typed back a message and hit send.

Who is this, and why are you doing this to me?

Just before I closed out the app, a bubble popped up indicating Ben was responding—no, not Ben. Someone. I stared at the screen, holding my breath until it all came out in a hard rush when I saw the response. There was a picture of Jagger kissing my forehead from just a couple weeks ago. Below, the words: