Nolan
Nothing is confirmed. They don’t confirm things like this for months, because there’s always a chance that their guesses are wrong.
They’re not wrong.
Trig did get on a yacht like he told Reed he was going to do. He never had any intention of getting off of it, though. They found an empty bottle of the Vicodin he’d been taking for back pain for years and Oxy that he didn’t have a prescription for. He washed it all down with Jack, then fell into a forever sleep with the boat tethered to the dock. It wasn’t his boat. He didn’t even know the owner.
Reed keeps playing their last conversation over and over again, looking for something he missed, and I don’t know what to do for him. I don’t think there’s an answer to be found. Trig didn’t want anyone to think he was anything other than in love with the life he’d finally gotten. But there was so much self-destruction.
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
“I’ll be back in time for the dinner,” Reed says, suddenly standing from the chair he’s been glued to in the living room since we got home. He made calls from that chair, consoled Stacia as best he could, told his dad and Jason, and stared into my eyes waiting for me to tell him what to do next. Mostly, he just sat there staring into empty space…avoiding.
It’s like a switch flipped suddenly. He has his keys in his hand, the Jeep’s keys, and he’s smooshing his head into a hat that’s too small—one he hasn’t worn since college.
“Where are you going?” I’m cautious as I stand, treating him like a feral cat that’s just getting used to my scent. His eyes don’t settle on anything—on me—for long. Instead, he looks around at everything and nothing, forcing expressions in an effort to show me nothing’s wrong.
Everything’s wrong.
“I promised Bryce I’d meet him at four, so…ya know…” He flashes me a tight grin and lifts his fisted keys as a gesture of goodbye.
“Reed!” Long strides get me to him before he can swing the side door closed. There’s no way I’m letting him leave the house right now alone. He’s not driving, either. And I don’t give a shit if now’s not the time for a fight.
He turns halfway, expecting me and my words.
“Bryce would get it. You don’t have to…”
“Noles, I’m fine. Really.” His eyes still can’t fully connect with mine, and he’s palming his keys so hard that his knuckles are turning white. He’s avoiding feeling things and dealing with this by going right to that masculine aggression of his. The only way for me to combat it is to speak his language, so I hold his stare and take small steps toward him until I can feel the heat of his breath.
“I just wanna go do something normal,” he says.
“Then I’ll drive you.” I hold out my open palm.
“I’m fine,” he argues, but I flex my fingers and flash my hand again, my face growing more serious.
“Not. A. Debate.”
He blinks finally and his eyes flit down to my hand. One heavy sigh and they’re in my grasp, my husband already marching to his precious vehicle.
I’d rather drive my car. I hate the Jeep. It’s been rebuilt twice now, and the motor idles so damn hard I can feel the fillings in my molars jostle against my nerves. My husband is already climbing into the passenger side, though, and I think if I made him change cars at this point he would scream obscenities and run his ass to the field.
That might actually be good for him.
I consider it for a second, and dismiss it quickly, opening the driver’s side door and lifting myself up. I catch his smirk as I struggle my way in.
“You know I can never get in this thing gracefully,” I say, shimmying my hips into the very well-worn bucket seat. I buckle and shove the key in and realize he’s still smiling at me, that special kind that’s subtle but sorta just for me.
“What?” I whisper.
“I was remembering you driving this thing pregnant. Sometimes…ha…” He rubs his chin and relaxes back in his seat, amused with our past. “Sometimes, it would take you three or four attempts.”
“Or six…or seven,” I add, remembering how embarrassing it would be at the grocery store. Reed thought he was being kind when he bought me the super-responsible “mom car.” He was so proud of doing something so responsible. I didn’t want to tell him it was hideous, that it smelled like hot plastic, and that the interior color made me look jaundiced in the rearview mirror. I just told him that I missed the Jeep, but damn this thing—it’s sentimental, but it rides rough as shit!
His cheeks lift with the slight growth in his smile and his eyes dance over my face until I blush. Somehow…still, after all these years, this guy can make me feel special just by the way he looks at me.
“You’re beautiful.”
His compliment warms my chest, and I take it in quietly, the golden glow of the falling sun touching off the red in the ends of his hair as it shines through the side windows. I can’t even imagine my life if I lost this man. He’s half of me, even when we’re living a thousand miles apart.
I back out enough to turn the Jeep around, and that little moment of bliss slips away. Reed’s eyes trail back into nothingness, never leaving the space inside this cab. He’ll be leaving soon, and then I suppose we’ll both meet again in Santa Fe for the funeral. Trig’s parents still live there.
It’s close to four in the afternoon when I pull around to the backside of the football field, parking behind the bleachers just like the visiting team does. Bryce is standing out in the middle of the field running patterns and pretending to take snaps. I bet he’s been here waiting for an hour just to impress Reed.
My husband starts to open the door before I completely put the Jeep in park, so I grab his arm to get his attention. His eyes move my direction but don’t meet mine. He’s on auto again.
“Hey, take it easy on this kid.” There’s double meaning in my request. Bryce might deserve a little more ribbing from his girlfriend’s father, but he doesn’t deserve the emotions that accompany the grief inside Reed right now.
Reed nods to acknowledge me, then slides out from his seat, pushing the door closed behind him. There’s no way I’m leaving, and Reed knows that. I drive around to the other lot, though, and pull into a spot to watch from more distance. Peyton’s practice is starting on the other side of the field, and I hope like hell Bryce clued her in on this impromptu session her dad set up this morning. I hope Peyton gets in the Jeep before Reed’s done. I want to be able to prepare her about Uncle Trig. It’s going to crush her.
Tucked deep in the driver’s seat, I pull out my phone and take one last look at my tiny little family. My daughter is fearless, so different from me in some ways. She’s a flier, and it makes my heart stop every time those boys throw her in the air. I’d feel better having the other girls catch her, honestly. The boys are stronger, but damn is their attention span pathetic. She’s tumbling now, flip after flip along the track. Every time she stops, her eyes go right to Bryce and Reed.
My eyes go there mostly, too. It’s like we’ve both slipped into a time machine and I’m still the girl watching him from far away. His body is bigger, but those moves—the way he can step back and just see. He’s always been special.
I thumb through my contacts list and press Sienna’s number when I get to her, giving my attention back to Reed. She answers a little out of breath, and I’m sure I’ve caught her rushing from one of her girl’s activities to the other. Her and Micah had their first girl soon after they were married, and a few years later wanted to try for one more. They ended up with triplets—every single child a girl. Sienna’s life is spent between dance and swim and diving and piano lessons. They’re all incredibly different, but also incredibly gifted in some way.
“Noles, what’s up?” She’s trying to mask her panting.
“Let’s see…Thursday, so is this swim to dance?”
My friend laughs, but only as much as her breathing will allow.
“Close, it’s piano to swim. We’re running late, and by running…I mean we’re running. The damn van won’t start, and whoever decided to build the swim complex on top of the hill was an idiot.” Her phone slips and I hear her girls yelling at her to hurry in the background.
“It’s okay, just call me back when you can.” I walk through the mental list of everyone else I need to call.
“No…no…hold on.” Her phone muffles again, but this time by her palm. She tells her girls to go ahead and after a few seconds her end of the line clears up, and her breath seems to finally catch too. “They don’t need me. They’re eight. Talk to me.”
I smile and rest my head on the window, realizing how much I’ve missed my friend being close. They live up north, outside of Flagstaff, and it’s only a four-hour drive, but life makes that trip seem impossible lately.
“Trig passed away.” I don’t know another way to say it, but that’s not the entire truth. I’m being sensitive, but maybe I shouldn’t.
“Oh God.” I hear how it smacks her just like it did me. Her voice loses something as she speaks. It’s because this is the first time we’ve all been faced with mortality like this. Trig…he was one of us.
“They found him…on a boat…” I let Sienna work out the details in her own mind, and I sit in silence on the phone with my friend for nearly a full minute.
“How’s Reed?”
I swallow at the question.
“He’s not good. He’s gone into robot mode, and we haven’t talked about it—just the two of us. He’s actually out on our old high school field right now showing Peyton’s boyfriend some of his old moves.” I look up in time to see Reed clapping loudly at one of Bryce’s throws before jogging out to collect a few of the balls.
“What’s he doing in town?”
“Retrieving the precious Jeep, signing the deed; we met with the lawyer a couple days ago out on the property. It’s pretty much done. And he’s still on the ole disabled list.” I forget the last time Reed’s been around for one of our get-togethers, and the idea strikes me all of a sudden. “Hey, actually…it’s homecoming tomorrow. You think…”
“Hell yes, woman. Micah’s mom owes us big time! And I need a break. I’ll call him now, and we’ll be down there by morning. We’ll bring those breakfast burritos you love. I’ll freeze them tonight and they’ll be thawed by the time we roll in for breakfast.”
My mouth waters thinking about the fresh chorizo.
“You sure Micah’s okay taking off that early?” I ask.
“If not, I’m leaving him at home.” I laugh at her answer, but I’m fairly certain my friend is dead serious.
I hang up with Sienna and let her work out the details on her end while I send my next round of texts to Sean and Becky, who both call me back at the same time—from separate rooms of their San Diego house. I leave them both to figure out the how and when, and by the time Reed is done working with Bryce, I have a mini reunion set in motion. I did it all so fast, so caught up with the excitement of it all, that I didn’t really give myself a second to consider how he might…actually…hate it.
In a perfect storm, he climbs into the Jeep just as Peyton finishes practice, and now I’m stuck trying to sort out what type of conversation to have next. I get the wrong one out of the way first, and I know it is, but it’s easier to have.
“I did a thing,” I start.
His response comes in a heavy breath, and I turn in time to see his fists twisting in his eyes. They look tired when they open on me, tired for different reasons. His eyes are tired from holding in everything he needs to let out.
“Becks and Sean are driving in, and Micah and Sienna are coming down. Sarah’s already here, so ya know…I thought…” It was a stupid idea. This isn’t the time to celebrate.
Reed barely reacts, a crooked smile dimpling one cheek briefly while dead eyes blur out on my face.
“I didn’t think. I’ll call them back, tell them maybe next year, or…”
His hand falls on top of mine.
“No, it’s cool. They can stay with us. It’d be nice, really. It’s been a while.” He’s feigning enthusiasm, and he’s a bad liar.
“They’ll understand,” I say, giving him the option of an out.
“I know,” he says, drawing in another deep breath. You’d think he’d been sacked a thousand times today by the way every breath seems so heavy. “I’m being honest, though. I’d like to see everybody…and it’s homecoming.”
Peyton taps on the window next to him, and he turns enough to give her a smile as he puts his hand on the door handle to let himself out.
“I’m gonna walk home with her, let her know about Trig. I think maybe that’d be good for both of us.”
I give him a nod, and he steps out of the Jeep, dropping Peyton’s bag in place of where he was sitting. Peyton glances at me, and in that small second, I catch the panic in her eyes. She hasn’t said it directly, but I know she’s been worried about her dad and me. We don’t fight in front of her. We don’t really fight. Sometimes that long silence can be harder to handle, though, and I know she’s felt the wall we’ve both put up. She was with me when Reed was in surgery, when I got the news he had possible spinal trauma. She’s watched me break down in fear that something awful is going to happen to him, and when those studies started to pile up about brain injuries, I wasn’t particularly good at keeping my opinion out of breakfast-time conversation.
I drive away thinking of how my daughter, for a second, thought her parents were about to tell her they were getting a divorce. In my mirror, I see her crumble into Reed’s arms over the truth. I’m not sure which hurt would be better for her to have.