Co-WRECKER

  Leaning forward, I look into the water and see my reflection, the truth right in front of me. I’m not the person I wish I was. I’m tired, depressed, angry, and frustrated with the curveballs I keep getting handed.

  A twig snaps behind me. I would be alarmed if I thought someone was trying to sneak up on me, but that’s not the case.

  He takes a seat right next to me and I don’t have to look over to know who it is. His presence. It’s unmistakable.

  “Quiet night,” Tucker says, his voice low. I haven’t seen or talked to him since the party, and given our history, I knew if I texted him he would come. That’s the kind of relationship we have.

  “Yeah. Very quiet. I would have expected to see some teenagers out here, but it’s pretty dead.”

  From the corner of my eye, I see him lean back on the log. “Remember the time we came here and smoked our first joint together? I stole it from my older brother and we thought it was the greatest thing ever, that was until he caught us and beat me up for taking from his stash.”

  “And you were laughing the whole time because you were high.” I smile at the memory. “After the first two punches, he gave up and left.”

  “I’ve never been more grateful for being high.” He sighs and says, “We were supposed to go fishing.”

  “Yeah, and you showed up with no gear and a joint. Fishing was pretty much tossed out the window after that.”

  “Last thing I wanted to do with you was fish.” He nudges my shoulder with his. At the time, the last thing I wanted to do was fish as well. Back then, Tucker was my everything. He was the hometown heartbreaker. The guy every girl wished they could have a chance with, but he never even glanced at them. He only had eyes for me. Apparently nothing has changed.

  “We had some good times,” I say, starting to feel the tension between us.

  He shifts on the log and leans forward, his forearms propped on his thighs as he looks over at me. “We could still have those fun times, but in a more adult manner,” he says, but I can sense the serious tone in his voice.

  I shake my head. “It would never work out between us.”

  “Why do you think that?” He sounds insulted. Why doesn’t he get this?

  I turn to him, my legs still pulled in close to my chest. I see him for the first time and can’t help but take him all in from his rugged jeans, to his plain white T-shirt, to his sock hat that hangs loosely off the back of his head. It’s his signature look, and the reason every girl in his vicinity wants him.

  I don’t answer him; instead, I ask a question. “What do you think would have happened between us if I never got pregnant? Do you think we would have stayed together? We were already starting to drift apart, things weren’t steady between us.”

  “Only because I was working over fifty hours a week while you were at school. I was trying to make something of myself so when you got out of school, you could rely on me while you found your feet. We could make anything work, Sadie.”

  “But there was so much tension between us, so much anger, didn’t you feel it? And be honest, Tucker.”

  He turns away from me and looks out to the water. When he speaks, his voice is full of heartache. “I always felt like I was losing you, Sadie. No matter what I did, I felt like each kiss pushed me farther away, each phone call, put another mile between us. It’s why I stopped trying so damn hard and started working. I figured if I worked, at least I could show you I was planning for our future, that just because I wasn’t at college, I could still provide for you.”

  My heart sinks from his admission. “You never had to prove anything to me, Tucker. I knew from the moment I met you, you were going to do great things. You don’t have to go to college to make something of yourself. I hope I never made you feel that way.”

  “You didn’t. But it was intimidating as fuck dating a girl smart enough to go to Cornell. I always felt a little inadequate for you, like you were too good.” He glances in my direction, his eyes soft. “You still are.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Tucker; we’ve always been equal, always will be. Don’t sell yourself short.”

  “Hard not to when the woman you love won’t give you a second chance. There has to be something fucking wrong with me that stops you from revisiting what we had between us.”

  How do I even explain my feelings toward him without hurting his feelings? Before I can think of a way, he says, “Can I please show you something?”

  “Now?”

  He nods his head and grabs my hand. “Now.”

  Not waiting for an answer, he guides me to his monstrous truck and helps me into the passenger side. When he slides behind the wheel, he wastes no time pulling out of the parking spot and getting on the highway, heading south toward Binghamton.

  Once off the highway, we weave through Front Street, over the bridge going toward Chenango Valley High School, straight into a residential zone. What on earth does he want to show me? We pass house after house, colonials to Cape Cods flanking the side of the roads until we turn down a dead-end road. He drives to the third house on the right and pulls into the driveway. When he parks, he holds the steering wheel tightly, looking at the little Cape Cod with the gingerbread front and the tiny little garage off to the side.

  Looking around, I ask, “Where are we?”

  Avoiding all eye contact, he says, “Our house, Sadie.”

  Our WHAT?

  “I bought it when I found out you were pregnant. I wanted a place we could live comfortably as a family, in a secure neighborhood. It was supposed to be a surprise but I never got a chance to show you. The place needed some work. I started working on it so it would be ready by the time you were due, but then we lost the baby and everything came to a halt.”

  He bought us a house? I can’t . . . I don’t even know how to process that.

  Swallowing hard, he asks, “Do you want to see it?”

  I really don’t because I know I’ll break down, but I also know Tucker really wants to show it to me, so I nod while a lump starts to form in my throat.

  Together, hand in hand, he unlocks the front door and guides me inside. I’m immediately greeted by a living room, a white brick fireplace to the right, beautiful oak hardwood floors, and a quaint archway leading into a dining room. Sitting in the corner, a pretty built-in corner shelf, ready for a beautiful set of dishes to be placed in it. Tucker continues to take me through the house, not saying much, just showing me, letting me take it all in. The galley kitchen is perfect. Off-white with vintage-blue glass knobs, a color so vivid it bounces off the white of the cabinets. To the left, off the dining room, there are two equal-sized rooms, one door shut, the other open with a small bathroom in between.

  “What’s in there?” I ask, pointing to the closed door.

  “Nothing,” he mumbles and then takes me up the stairs that lead into a finished attic space, which is a master bedroom with multiple closets, lower ceilings, and cute built-in shelves. It’s a beautiful space.

  He leads me back downstairs and turns to me. “What do you think?”

  I speak from the heart. “It’s so beautiful, Tucker. I can’t believe you bought this for us.” Still curious, I walk toward the door that’s shut and say, “Why won’t you show me what’s in here?”

  Pain crosses his face. He doesn’t say anything, he just opens the door and lets it swing open, revealing a little white crib in the middle of a yellow painted room.

  A nursery.

  Immediately my throat clogs, and my strength starts to disintegrate with each step forward I take into the room.

  It’s simple. He hasn’t done much besides paint. But the crib—white, vintage with knobby spindles—it’s everything I would ever want for a baby. It’s so sweet.

  My vision starts to blur, and tears cascade down my cheeks. Before the crib, I fall to the ground where I bury my head in my hands. Silent sobs wrack my body.

  Tucker wraps his body around mine, holding me closely to his chest.

  We sit th
ere, on the floor of our baby’s room, crying together for the loss we both suffered. It’s not that we lost our baby. It’s the relationship we once shared. All gone. Vanished. That’s what we’re grieving.

  We had the opportunity to bring something so precious into this world, something so innocent, but we lost it against our will. Sorrow fills the room with each tear that falls from our eyes.

  I look up to him, his eyes bloodshot, his cheeks wet, his skin blotchy. He cups my face and very gently brings my lips to his where he lightly kisses me. It isn’t sexual; there is no heat behind the kiss. It’s for our much-needed comfort. I let my lips linger for a few seconds before I pull away. His hand still cupping my face, I search his eyes.

  “You don’t love me anymore, do you?” he asks, catching me off guard.

  The churning in my stomach kicks up a notch, my anxiety starting to make my body shake. Andrew’s words run through my head.

  You need to find yourself again.

  He’s right. I’m in a rut. If I ever want to be happy again—feel whole—I need to get out of it, and it starts right now.

  I lace my fingers with Tucker’s and look him in the eyes. “I never stopped loving you, Tucker.”

  His face doesn’t fill with hope. Instead he asks, “But you’re not in love with me.”

  There is a difference. Loving someone and being in love with someone. You can love anyone that touches your soul in a way you’ll never replace. Never forget. But being in love with someone, that is reserved for a special person, someone who you see yourself spending the rest of your life with. Once upon a time, that was with the man in front of me. A man with a good heart. A man who has loved me for many years. But now? Unfortunately, he’s not the man I’ll spend the rest of my life with.

  Hating that I’m about to cut Tucker deep, I shake my head no.

  He nods and lets out a long breath. “You’re in love with sturdy tits, aren’t you?”

  The use of Andrew’s nickname causes me to snort, bringing back a flood of memories from the beginning of the summer, when everything seemed less complicated.

  Am I in love with sturdy tits? The boy who came out of nowhere, disrupted my life, made me break my rules, made me laugh, made me step outside my comfort zone, and who introduced me to the one and only cannon cock?

  Am I in love with him and his penchant for calculators, his knowledge about movies featuring computers, and his incessant love for sugar-free vanilla ice cream?

  There’s no doubt in my mind.

  Yes.

  I’m so in love with that man. The man who shed some light on the dark life I merely existed in. The man who, despite my bitchiness, my awful attitude, and my inability to be polite, still wanted to make me smile . . . because he saw something dark in my eyes. How could I not be in love with him?

  Meeting Tucker’s eyes, I nod. “I’m in love with Andrew.”

  He leans back, a sigh coming from his chest. “Is it the glasses? Because I’m not opposed to wearing glasses.”

  Laughing, I shake my head. “It’s not the glasses.”

  He nods and stares at the crib, a serious tone again in his voice. “When did I lose you, Sadie?”

  “I’m not sure,” I say honestly. “I wish I could tell you, but I really don’t know.”

  We sit in silence, both looking around the room, thinking about what could have been, how different our lives would be.

  Finally, after what seems like hours, Tucker stands and helps me to my feet. In the dim light of the room, he pushes a flyaway hair behind my ear, his handsome face close enough to kiss. In a soft voice, he says, “I will never stop loving you, Sadie.”

  I wrap my arms around him and press my cheek against his chest. “I will never stop loving you either, Tucker. It’s time, though. It’s time we let go of us before we hurt each other more.”

  He goes stiff in my arms, his breath hitching in his throat. I’m not sure if Tucker will ever truly move on from us, but all I can do is hope and pray he does. From this point moving forward, I am no longer hiding behind anyone. I’m moving forward into my future.

  Step number one: closing the door to the past.

  I press my palms against Tucker’s chest and tell him the one thing I’ve neglected to say to him for so long. “Thank you, Tucker. I don’t think I can say it enough. Thank you for being one of my best friends, for giving me a happy place when my innocent childhood was stripped away from me. Thank you for loving me for who I am, tarnished pieces and all. Thank you for sticking by my side, being my support, being my rock, being my man when I needed you. You’ve been everything to me for so long, but at some point, I know I can’t continue to hide behind you and use you as a shield. I have to step out into this world on my own.” I press my lips against the palm of his hand, trying to reassure him that no matter what happens, he’ll never leave my heart. “We had good times together, Tucker. There is no denying that. But we also had some really tough, hurtful times. I think the hard things that brought us together—pain, betrayal, lies—ultimately tore us apart. We grew into adults without learning how to be adults. We hid behind our past without facing reality. Our relationship became unhealthy, toxic, because we hadn’t learned how to behave differently. And then the loss of our baby . . . I think the universe brought us together for a reason, during some of the toughest times of our lives, but I also think it’s time to go our separate ways, it’s time to grow up, push beyond what we had and didn’t have, and search out what we’re supposed to be. Who we’re supposed to be.”

  His jaw clenches, his neck and shoulder muscles tighten. Just from his reaction, I can tell he doesn’t agree and it may take him longer to achieve the sense of calm I’ve found today. But if he is mad, he doesn’t let it be known in his words. Hugging me to his chest, he says, “I truly hope you find happiness, Sadie. That’s all I want for you.” That’s all I want for him too, but it hurts too much to say that yet.

  He kisses the top of my head and then leads me out of the house, making sure to shut off all the lights.

  When we’re in the car, he says, “It’s time you go home. Smilly can help you get your car tomorrow.”

  With those last words, he drives me home, kisses me on the cheek goodbye, and takes off. It feels as though he is leaving my life forever.

  That night, in bed, I go over my action plan for putting my life back together. Tucker is in the back of my mind the entire time.

  Please let him find peace. That’s all I want for him, peace and happiness.

  And please help me through these next couple days. Knowing I have to speak to the one person I have the hardest time talking to, I’m going to need the extra courage. I’m going to need to find the strength within me.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  SADIE

  Fall in New York can either go two ways: it can be crisp, sunny, and refreshing, or is can be a haze of cold, casting a grey darkness over your day.

  Today, I can barely see the house I grew up in through my front windshield as I sit parked in the driveway. Nerves sting my body, rolling my anxiety to an all-time high. It’s taken me a week to gain the courage to come here and even as I sit in my car, staring out the window, I can’t seem to make the final few steps.

  The strength I need to keep moving forward is non-existent and the one person who I know could get me out of this car is no longer in my life. Pulling out my phone, I go to my contacts and read through some of the last text messages we sent to each other. A smile pulls at my lips from the way he so easily and casually joked around, how he could, with one sentence, put a smile on my face. I miss him, terribly. No, that isn’t quite it. I feel like I’m missing a limb. But I now know it isn’t him who can make me whole. That is my job. And if I’m incredibly lucky, he might wait for me.

  My finger hovers over the keyboard. Should I text him? See how he’s doing? Would he respond? Or would he immediately delete my text message?

  With every second that goes by that I don’t hear from him, it feels like an
ice pick poking at my heart, chipping parts away into bitter crumbles.

  The need to reach out is overwhelming, and before I can stop myself, I send him a text message.

  Sadie: Hey Andrew. I hope you’re doing well and enjoying school.

  The minute I send the message, I immediately regret it. I hope you’re doing well and enjoying school? What am I, his grandma?

  “Ughhh.” I slouch in my chair wishing Apple would really come up with a way to retract text messages. We have self-driving vehicles, but we can’t retract a text message? What is that about, Silicon Valley?

  See where desperation gets you? Alone, in your car, outside your childhood home, looking like a pathetic mess of a person with nothing but—

  Ding.

  A text message. My heart starts beating faster like it’s about to burst out of my chest, my palms turn into clammy-ville, and it feels impossible to breathe as I look down at my phone.

  The name that registers across the preview screen deflates my entire body, like a helium balloon on the loose.

  Dad.

  “Shit.” Disappointment is the only thing I feel as I read his text message.

  Dad: Are you just going to hang out in your car, or are you actually going to come inside?

  I text him back, not quite ready to make the move forward after the blow I just suffered.

  Sadie: Finishing up some things, be in soon.

  I rest my arm on the side of my car door and grip my forehead. What a cruel, cruel joke. The one time my dad decides to text me comes at the most inopportune time.

  Taking a deep breath, I gather my purse, snag my keys from the ignition, and stuff everything in my purse. It’s time to face the music.

  I make my way toward the back door where my dad greets me, opening the screen door for me. We aren’t the affectionate father-daughter duo, so he simply greets me with a hello.