Summer Sunsets

  So much for one perfect evening that should have been the turning point.

  I’ve barely reached my parents’ driveway when my cell rings, and part of me is grateful because I’m hoping it’s Skye calling to ask me to come back for lunch or something. Yeah, I know, as much as she doesn’t have faith, I have more than enough.

  This isn’t Skye. It’s Warren. Unnerved, I say, “Hello?”

  “Devin, it’s Warren.”

  “Hey, Warren.” A pause fills the air, and my stomach starts tensing like I’m expecting a punch to the solar plexus. “Is there something wrong?”

  Another pause. “Did something happen to Skye? She was really upset. I haven’t seen her like that in years.”

  I grit my teeth, already imagining how her world must have unfolded when she walked in. All the emotions she was trying so hard to hold back in front of me started spinning out of control.

  “We had a great evening, and then it all went wrong this morning.”

  “Did you propose to her?” Concern deepened Warren’s tone.

  “No, I didn’t get a chance.” That was a lie because I’d had plenty of chances. None of them had felt right, and that was the problem. Now I’m wondering if I should have. Would it have made any difference?

  “Then what happened?”

  I get out and lean against the truck. “She was okay, and we headed to a video store to rent a movie. While we were there, Tyler Rutherford happened to walk in, and seeing him spooked her.” I rake my fingers through my hair, trying to calm down. “I tried to talk to her, but I couldn’t make her see Tyler was powerless in her life.” I close my eyes, suddenly feeling just as helpless as I did when we were in school and our lives came unraveled at the drop of the hat. “I’ll come back over.”

  “No,” Warren said. “She’s quiet now. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  I start to get into the Jeep “I can be there in five.”

  “It’s okay, Devin. She needs time. You’ve been down that road before. I’m not going to let anything happen to her. I promise.”

  I know he’s right. That’s why I lean against the Jeep, trying not to imagine her face and all the emotions storming through her she won’t be able to control. “Please.” My fingers curl into a fist I lightly tap against the side of the Jeep. “Please, if there is anything she needs—anything—let me know.”

  “Of course. Just give her time. She’ll come around.”

  I close the phone and lean back, trying hard to keep calm in the face of a panic rising like a wall of blackness that blots out everything. There’re no words to tell him how much I’m counting on that promise.

  It takes two days for Skye to finally come around. The whole time I’ve been calling her cell and checking in with Warren to make sure she’s all right. While I’m not getting any information from Skye, Warren’s definitely keeping me informed about what is going on.

  It’s late in the morning when I hear the doorbell. I’m half-drowsing because I’ve not been sleeping well. The old nightmares have been rearing their ugly heads, and nothing gets rid of them except daylight and Skye. I’ve replayed how things went so many times my head is spinning, but no matter what I do, it doesn’t change her pain. I wonder if I should have made love to her. Would that have made a difference?

  I’m not expecting the soft tapping at my door. Yeah, my mom knocks, but it’s more of a loud warning before she comes in—a way for me to throw on clothes so she doesn’t see me naked and embarrass the hell out of both of us.

  The knock comes a second time, so I frown and get up. When I open the door, Skye stands on the other side. She’s wearing a white t-shirt and tan shorts. Her long hair flows around her face, shadowing a lot of her expression, which makes me wonder if she’s trying to hide. Her cheeks are pale, and there are dark shadows beneath her eyes, suggesting she isn’t sleeping any better than I am. Probably Tyler again.

  “Hey,” I say, feeling my back and shoulders stiffen as I pull the door open wider. “Come on in.” I try not to seem overly glad to see her, and right now I feel like everything I do is a mistake in the making.

  Her eyes flash briefly toward my face, and she quickly ducks her head and steps across the threshold. She starts to sit in the chair by my desk, but the shirt I wore yesterday keeps her from going there.

  “Here, let me get that.” I grab the shirt and throw it in the hamper. I rake my fingers through my hair and ease down on the bed. I start to say something, but everything I’ve imagined coming out of my mouth sounds stupid, from “How are you?” to “What’s going on?” Somehow we are both past the surface-level stuff, and there’s no going back. That camping trip changed things, and I’m not sure I can put all the pieces back together.

  Skye eyes the chair but walks to the window and looks out. My jaw clenches. “Did you come to check out the view from my window? It’s the same as it was when we were in high school.” I fold my arms across my chest, immediately regretting the words. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing and it scares me.

  “No, I came to tell you I shouldn’t have done that.” She keeps looking out the window, and right now I want to shake some sense into her.

  I know what she’s talking about, but if she’s going to go down that road, she’s going to have to drag me. I’m not going to make it easy on her because in this case, she’s wrong. She’s afraid. “Can you be just a little more specific?”

  She takes a deep breath, and it shudders through her. “You know—the other night.”

  Forcing a calm I don’t feel, I try to engage her eyes. I know she must feel me staring as she scurries around the room, trying to keep moving so the pain she’s obviously causing both of us never catches her. The problem with that is sooner or later it does catch up, and you can either feel it with someone who matters or feel it alone.

  “What about the other night?” Again, me playing dumb.

  Skye flinches and steps towards the door. Crazy, I know, that I can almost see the flight-response kicking in. Then again, she’s going to have to get through me first. I’m not saying she can’t, but it’s not going to be easy.

  She’s two steps from the door when she finally turns back. Her gaze rises, and our eyes meet. “Look, Devin, you’re my best friend, and I don’t know what I’d do without you, but the other night when we….” Her voice trails off. She can’t even say it.

  “…made love?” I supply for her, inching her way.

  “Yeah.” She pushes the hair from her eyes, and she’s wearing this pinched expression that makes her seem like she’s in physical pain. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

  I see just the slightest hint of tears in her eyes, and she turns to leave, her trembling hand seeking out the doorknob. Without thought, I set a hand on one side of her, and then I place the other on the other so she’s forced to slowly turn and face me. Her eyes widen in surprise. Although she’s not breathing very loudly, I can hear the rapid inhale and exhale as the nervousness seems to overtake her.

  “What…what are you doing?” she whispers as her hand drops from the knob and she leans against the door.

  “Trying to talk some sense into you. I’m not sure it will work, but I guess I’m stubborn that way.”

  She closes her eyes and leans back. “Look, this is hard enough already, Devin—”

  “Hurting someone isn’t supposed to be easy, Skye. You of all people should know that.” My voice is low and raw, and even though I’m trying really hard to keep control of my emotions, they keep wanting to get the better of me.

  “I…I….” Her voice dies off as she stares at me, but that doesn’t stop the tears. They slide down her face with remarkable ease. “I just think it’s better to pretend this didn’t happen—”

  “You mean that we didn’t happen, don’t you?” I arch an eyebrow at her in challenge. “Skye, I know you. I know how you bury things in boxes so you don’t have to face them, and so long as nothing reminds you of the past, you’re okay, but then suddenly something trigg
ers it and you jump back. I love you. I’ve loved you for probably as long as I’ve known you, and I can’t pretend anymore.”

  More tears. “Devin, please.” She squeaks from under my arm and turns her back to me.

  “Please, what, Skye? Don’t tell you I love you? Don’t act like something happened between us and you felt it, too? Don’t keep hoping something will happen so we can finally have a relationship I know you want as badly as I do? Why do you keep pushing me? Do you want me to leave? Is that it?”

  Her shoulders sink as though I’m piling weights on them. I hear a small voice telling me I should stop, but I can’t seem to make myself. She folds her arms across her abdomen and takes a resigned breath. “Perhaps that would be best, Devin. Really.”

  I cross to her in two large strides and grab her arms. “Bullshit! What in the hell are you thinking?”

  As I stand in front of her, I sense she’s lost again, and I want to be the navigator who finally helps her read the landmarks as something real that’ll lead her away from the past, but somehow I’m not that guy. I’m not even sure she’s going to let someone help her.

  I grab her arms and hold her still. “Do you love me, Skye?”

  “I…I….” She won’t look at me. She just keeps crying. “I should go.”

  “Not before you answer,” I tell her, hoping that if I make her say it, it’ll force her to admit there was nothing wrong with making love. It’s a stretch, granted, but I have to do something. “Do you love me?”

  It seems to take forever there, both of us barely breathing, before I get my answer. She shakes her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “You’re my best friend, Devin, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

  My finger slowly ease, and I watch her edge out of the room, too shell-shocked by how things have gone drastically wrong again, and how I felt them spinning out of control but couldn’t seem to change the outcome no matter how badly I needed to. I’m standing there when I hear the door close, and all I can do is wonder what the hell happened and why.

  Chapter Eleven

  For the next few weeks, Skye and I don’t talk. It’s not that I don’t try to call her. She won’t answer, and every time I go by her house, no one is there. Maybe I could accept this if I felt like Skye were telling the truth, but I sense something deeper, and it troubles me. Then again, maybe I’m the only one unwilling to face the truth that keeps punching me in the chest—that maybe Skye will never be ready for a relationship. Or maybe she’ll never be ready for a relationship with me.

  A knock at my bedroom door interrupts my thoughts, and I finally say, “Come in.”

  Mom pokes her head in the door. “Are you busy?”

  Trust Mom to ask about the obvious. I’ve got a ball in my hand I’ve been tossing against the ceiling. How busy can I be?

  “No,” I finally tell her, setting the ball on my nightstand and sitting up. “Do you need something?”

  She opens the door wider. “Well, I was going to make a pot roast for dinner, but I don’t feel like going out to the store. Would you mind getting a few things for me?” She holds out a list with some money, and I take it, figuring it will be good to do something besides stare at walls that seem to close in on me every day.

  “Sure. I can do that.” I give her a half-hearted smile and reach for my shoes.

  “How’s Skye?”

  Mom’s test question. She’s aware I haven’t been hanging around Skye, and she wants to know what’s up. Yeah, well, that makes two of us, and I don’t think either of us is going to get answers anytime soon, unfortunately.

  “She’s okay, I guess. Been too busy to hang out.” I know I should just tell her the truth, but my mom is a worrier. She knows what Skye’s attempted suicide did to me, and the last thing she wants is a repeat performance of any kind.

  “I just hadn’t seen her with you lately.”

  “She’s got a lot going, Mom. I’m sure you’ll see her again.” I didn’t say that she see Skye with me because even I can’t be sure of that one, no matter how much I really want to. Skye’s holding all the cards now, and once again I’m blind to what the future held. Lucky me.

  “I’ll go to the store and get your stuff,” I say, standing. As I’m heading toward the door, I feel her gently grasp my arm, stopping me. Our eyes meet, and I sense the warning before she ever speaks.

  “Devin, I know you really like Skye, but sometimes you have to come to accept that no matter how much you want something, it isn’t always meant to be.”

  You know the one thing I hate about parents: they play dumb, and then when they decided to tell you about what they know, you realize they’re not blind or deaf and know what’s going on the whole time. It ought to be illegal.

  “Stop worrying, Mom,” I tell her and kiss the top of her head. “You do that far too much.”

  “Somebody’s got to. You know that.”

  I pull out my keys and walk to my Jeep. Even though it’s not even noon, it’s already hot, something the closed interior of my Jeep quickly confirms. It’s stifling in here. Perhaps that’s why my mom didn’t want to get out? No, she probably just figured I needed a break from brooding.

  “I’m going to get some lunch and I’ll stop and get what you need.”

  A look passes between us, and I know that no matter what I say, it’s not going to change the fact she’s concerned, and I get it. I’m concerned, too. It’s not just about me. That’s what she doesn’t know. I feel that concern smothering me until I walk outside and try to ease the tension from my shoulders and climb into the Jeep.

  While I do plan on getting some lunch, I find myself driving mindlessly around, trying to get some kind of spin control. West Martin has never felt big, and truthfully, it seems like every place I go reminds me of Skye. I never expected we would end like this. Inasmuch as it hurts to find this town so laden with memories, it’s also comforting, too, because if I can’t have Skye with me, her memory is the next best thing.

  Maybe that’s what makes me drive out to Lucy Park, heading to the old picnic table where Skye and I sometimes sat. I know she won’t be there; she’s too busy, after all, hiding from the inevitable, but when I step in front of that bench, alone and trying to makes sense of things, it make me hurt in a way I can’t explain even now.

  “It’s not supposed to be like this,” I mutter, folding my arms across my chest and staring off into the distance. Above, I see gaggle of geese flying toward the pond not far away and frown, wishing like hell I could fly out of here, too. Maybe I never should have come back.

  “Well, well, look who’s come home.”

  I turn slowly, already sensing whoever is standing there is no friend of mine. I’m not counting on that person to be Tyler Rutherford. He’s got a fishing pole in one hand, probably headed to the pond, knowing it’s been well-stocked for kids under sixteen. Hell, maybe he’s looking for girls under sixteen; it wouldn’t surprise me.

  “You really shouldn’t be here,” I say, forcing myself not to move.

  “Oh, and where should I be? Prison? I’m willing to bet you thought I’d do time, right? That your girlfriend would ruin my life? Didn’t happen. It helps to have a powerful daddy.” He smiles, and it takes everything I’ve got not to thrash him. In the parking lot, I spot a couple getting out of their car, and I know they can hear everything we’re saying.

  “You might just want to stop while you’re ahead.” I set my hands on my hips, waiting for his next move. Some part of me hopes he shoots off his mouth. It’s his damned fault Skye isn’t talking to me, and he’s got it coming.

  “Yeah, I’m ahead, all right. I’ve always been ahead of you. Skye sure didn’t sleep with you, but I didn’t have any trouble. Hell, maybe she still won’t sleep with you. Maybe I should just go over and slip myself back into place. Who knows? Maybe she’s missed me. Then again, maybe I’ll teach her a lesson for opening her fucking mouth to begin with.”

  It takes everything I’ve got to restrain myself when I want to kill him.
Instead, I bait him, knowing that once he swings, he’s mine. “What’s the matter, Rutherford? You only go after the girls who can’t fight because you know if they have a choice, they’ll just laugh at you.”

  In an instant he rushes towards me. I feel his fist hit my left eye, and then he’s done. My fist slams across his nose, breaking it. Blood spurts everywhere. In the distance, I can hear him making some kind of a noise, but I hit him again. And again, my body angling as he goes down. He might have gotten that one punch in, but let’s just say that he’s barely moving after the fourth blow.

  I’d keep going, if I didn’t feel someone trying to grab my arm.

  “Devin, stop swinging!”

  It’s a woman, and for a split second, I think it’s Skye, which stops me cold, and I turn to face her, knowing that Tyler’s blood is all over my hands and clothes. Probably my face, too. No, she’s not Skye, but the face is familiar, and I struggle to remember. For a few seconds, I can’t. Then recognition washes over me.

  “Bethany?”

  “Hey, calm down.” She grabs my arm and eases me away from Rutherford, who isn’t moving, and once we’re a short distance away, she touches the area around my eye. In that moment, pain exploded in my head.

  “Damn, that hurts.”

  “Not half as bad as what you did to him.” She nods toward Rutherford, and I look. The guy who is with her is leaning over him, checking to make sure he’s okay. Rutherford is covered in blood. I grit my teeth and look away.

  “He had it coming, Bethany.”

  She nods. “I’m not saying he didn’t. But I need to call for an ambulance.” She gives me a meaningful look. “Just stay put, okay?”

  “Whatever.” I glower at her and sit on a nearby park bench as she makes the call. Already I’m going through what kinds of trouble I’m going to get into for this, but I don’t care; I’d have done it sooner if I’d had the chance.

  It seems forever I’m sitting there, waiting. I feel blood seeping down my face, probably from dipshit’s ring when he punched me. I dab my fingers at the wound while watching as Bethany finishes the call and walks over to Rutherford. She speaks in a low voice to the guy leaning over him, and he answers. I just can’t hear what they’re saying.