32: The Better Option

 

 

I heard my front door creak open and mentally checked my list of who might be trying to kill me. Surprisingly, the list was empty. Which probably meant it was Baxter come to wake me for our pre-scheduled morning together. I pulled the covers higher over my head. Not only did I not want to face Christmas, I was exhausted from being forced to play Minute to Win It games with a bunch of people who generally hated each other and to paint mutant reindeer on children’s faces at the building Christmas Eve luncheon the day before. If Mrs. Osgood hadn’t wanted children to cry, she should have just let me bring treats. Add in Puck keeping me at his Christmas Eve party until almost midnight trying to get me to sing carols and watch endless holiday movies, and I was less than inclined to greet the holiday.

A weight settled on the bed at my back. “Go away,” I mumbled.

“Not a chance. Get up.”

“No.”

“Get up, or I’ll drag you out of bed.”

Some Christmas greeting. “What time is it?” Even without the blanket over my head, my room had been dark.

“Six, now get up. We need to leave.”

I pulled the covers down just enough to look at him. His navy blue sweater and brushed hair made me wary. “Leave? I don’t wanna leave. I want to stay in bed all day.”

He shook his head. “As tempting as it is to crawl under the blankets with you, it’s not happening. Get up, or you’re coming with me in your pajamas.”

“Why are you so bossy?”

“Why are you so stubborn?”

I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Should I add childish to the list? Get. Up.”

When I didn’t move, he reached for the blankets. I scrambled out from under them and pouted. “Why are we up so early?”

“It takes a few hours to get there. You can sleep in the car.”

Sighing, I swung my feet over the edge of the bed and grumbled, “Fine.” When I dragged myself to my feet, he was still standing next to my bed. “I need to get dressed.”

He shrugged. “Go ahead.”

Now who was being childish? I dragged what I was pretty sure were clean clothes out of a laundry basket and took them to the bathroom. I emerged twenty minutes later looking semi-presentable but still half asleep. It had been too long of a week, make that two weeks, to be up this early on a day off.

Baxter appraised my leggings, oversized sweatshirt, and bare feet. “Your toes are going to freeze.”

“I forgot my socks.”

He tossed me a pair, which meant he’d dug through my laundry, and walked past me to the living room. My kitchen was disappointingly dark and there weren’t any takeout cups of coffee or bagels.

“We’ll eat when we get there,” he said as he tossed me a coat.

“Where?”

Holding the door open, he gestured for me to get moving. Since my only other option was getting thrown over his shoulder, I shuffled out into the hallway. “I don’t like surprises.”

“Me neither.”

He started walking, and I debated just going back inside. Why was he being so weird this morning? It was hard to hide from someone who had a key to your apartment, though, so I trailed behind him wondering what we were doing. Baxter gave no hints. He did open my door, though, so that was something. He was normally more of a you’re capable of opening your own damn door so why should I do it kind of guy. I actually appreciated that on most days, but that morning his nonchalant act of sweetness was nice, too.

I didn’t try to ask where we were going again. Instead, I just watched the scenery as we left Manhattan and headed south. For a really long time. I didn’t know how long, because I fell back asleep shortly after crossing into New Jersey. Not until Baxter’s car rolled to a stop did I stir again. Rubbing my eyes, I pushed myself up from my awkward position and looked around. The beautiful old Victorian house we’d parked next to was a mystery. As was the ocean behind it.

“Where are we?”

“Ocean Grove, New Jersey.” He opened his door and stepped out, staring at the ocean in silence.

Confused, it took me a moment to follow him. I couldn’t even begin to guess why he’d brought me to Jersey. It was too cold to swim in the ocean. It was too cold to even be standing next to it, I realized as I walked over to him and had to pull my sweater around me more tightly. When I reached him, he didn’t say anything.

“It’s pretty,” I said, “but it’s freezing and I have no idea why we’re here.”

Baxter reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “This is where I lived after my dad died.”

Shocked, I scanned the area again, with a completely different perspective. The ocean looked cold and choppy in December, but I wondered if he’d spent his summers playing in the waves. The cute porch that ran along the front of the house had a porch swing I imagined he sat on when he wanted to be alone. As highly as he talked about his grandparents, I knew they had been happy here, as happy as they could be given the circumstances.

“Can I take you inside?” Baxter asked.

A sudden torrent of emotion welled in my center and I couldn’t speak. I took his hand in mind instead. He started forward, determined and only slowing to unlock the front door. He led me inside and closed us off from the chilly wind blowing in off the ocean. I was immediately captivated by everything. The décor matched the outside of the house, antique and perfect. It wasn’t a museum, though. Everywhere there were pictures of family, mementos of the life they had shared together. I marveled at pictures of a young Baxter, grinning from ear to ear as he swam, showed off prize shells, played baseball, helped his grandmother, all the little moments you rarely appreciate until they’re gone.

I was stunned that Baxter had chosen to share all of this with me, but I didn’t completely understand his reasoning. Turning to face him, he seemed to read the question in my expression.

“You wouldn’t let any of your friends get you a Christmas gift, but I figured this didn’t count since you asked for this specifically,” he said, “for me to let you in.”

Tear stung the corners of my eyes.

“This is one of the biggest aspects of who I am, of how I became the man I am.” He shrugged. “Good or bad, the years I spent here shaped me more than any others. I was lost after my dad died, but they helped me find a new path.”

I brushed at my eyes and walked over to him. When I moved to embrace him, he welcomed me with a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” I whispered. “Can we stay for a little while?” I wanted to see every picture, hear the stories that went with them, and just soak up the feel of the place.

“We can stay as long as you like,” he said. “In fact…” He pulled back and reached into his jeans pocket. When he withdrew his hand, he didn’t show me what he’d retrieved. “I don’t actually know where you grew up, Bernadette never told me and you’ve never offered it up either, but I know it was a small town. Quiet. Peaceful. I know before Ben died, you loved it there.”

Traitorous tears dripped down my cheeks, revealing how right he was.

“I also know,” he continued, “that you miss it. A lot. But going back isn’t an option. So…” He hesitated, then unfurled his fingers to reveal a key. “When you need somewhere peaceful and quiet, you can come here any time. With or without me…but preferably with me.”

Shocked by his offer, I touched the key but didn’t take it. I wasn’t completely sure what it would mean to take it. I supposed his grandparents had left him the house when they passed. He didn’t live here, obviously, but was taking the key like my slip of the tongue earlier? Would I be agreeing to more than I intended to? Did I care?

Seeing my hesitation, Baxter placed the key in the palm of my hand. “There are no strings attached, Eliza. I think you need this place as much as I did. Even without them here, it still feels like…home. That’s something you haven’t had since Ben died. Even if you only ever come here by yourself, escape once in a while. Let yourself heal. You’re carrying around too much guilt and fear to actually move forward.”

“Baxter,” I said as I stared at the key in my hand, too choked up to really speak. He didn’t push me. I couldn’t believe he’d done this for me, that he was willing to give up a place he cherished and regarded as his personal place of solitude in order to help me. It was the most amazing thing anyone had ever done for me. There was only one problem.

Looking up at him, I held the key uncertainly. “I appreciate this more than I can even tell you right now without bawling, but…how do I ever really move on when Simon is still out there?”

Baxter pulled me back into his arms, pressing my hand that was holding the key between us. “I don’t know the answer to that question, Eliza. I only know you have to try. No relationship will ever truly work for you if you don’t at least make the attempt. And I’m not just talking romantic relationships. Your sister, Sonya, Sean, how much do you hold back from them? Who do you ever let in completely?”

I had criticized Baxter for keeping secrets from me, holding me at arm’s length while trying to seduce me into his bed. Maybe what I had been doing to him, to everyone, was even worse. Baxter had stepped up. Could I? I knew he was right that I would never be able to have a truly successful relationship otherwise. I used to think that was the better option. So I’d hidden for five years.

It was clear to me now, that I could never go back to that life. My new friends and my life in Manhattan meant too much to me. Giving all of that up would be lying down and waiting for Simon to find me and put me out of my misery. I knew he was out there. I knew he was watching me. I knew he would strike again.

I also knew I had to choose between giving up or fighting back.

Pulling away from Baxter, I held the key for several long seconds before slipping it into my pocket. When I met Baxter’s gaze, he watched me with hopeful eyes. “If I tell you…about where I grew up,” I said, “will you tell me about this place?”

Baxter’s shoulders relaxed and he exhaled slowly. “I think I can manage that.” He reached out for my hand and, though I hesitated a moment, I took it.

 

 

 

The End