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—Simone—
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In the long hours between Banks dropping me off at home and me finishing work that night, I barely spoke unless directly spoken to. Even then, my answers were clipped and minimal. Wendy and Saul threw multiple concerned glances my way and finally stopped asking if I was okay when I got snappy.
The short verbal answer was “I’m fine”. The long answer inside was “I’m not okay, and I don’t know what to do”.
I hadn’t expected coffee to trigger my most broken parts, but as soon as I realized I held a Chai latte in my hand, it took all my inner strength not to throw it like a hot coal. Instead, I took it out on Banks, leaving us both confused and deeply hurt.
It wasn’t just that Chai was Reagan’s drink: a Chai latte held the sentimental twist of fate that brought me and him together. We’d both ordered one at our local coffee shop in Denver during a rushed break from our separate workplaces, and I mistook his order for mine. He confronted me as soon as I lifted the paper mug from the counter, resulting in a minor argument over who the order belonged to. When a second Chai appeared on the counter, we kept offering the ‘fresh’ one to each other. After I finally reneged and thanked him, he followed me from the coffee shop and walked me to the high-rise I worked in, completely in the opposite direction of his corporate tower.
I went to the coffee shop at the same time the next day to find him hovering on high alert. As soon as he saw me push through the door, his dark-brown eyes illuminated. We found ourselves frequenting that coffee shop each day just to spend a few fleeting minutes together.
Our whirlwind love affair took us from dating to serious in a matter of months, and he moved from his apartment into mine on our fifth-month anniversary.
I never thought a love like ours could exist, so when I lost him, my entire existence shattered. Life became pointless, and I’d struggled every day since.
I reached for Reagan’s cologne bottle and brought it to my nose. The scent I longed to smell on his skin again forced a wretched sob from my throat. It hurt so badly.
My fingers itched to reach for my little knife and my skin craved the sharp, satisfying sting, but this time I squeezed my eyes closed and gritted my teeth with determination to hold out for just a minute longer. Then another minute, and another, until the need to draw blood eased enough for me to slowly open my eyes again.
I focused on the minute details on the faded retro-yellow lampshade beside my bed. Disconnection washed over me. I no longer felt anchored to the planet, instead, floating within a parallel universe where I didn’t seem to fit. The cologne brought me closer to Reagan, but in the same instance, the cottage decor removed me. Add Banks to the mix, and I was torn in more ways than when I lived in Denver.
Fool on me for thinking being in a new place would magically make everything okay.
~
Come the next morning, I numbly forced myself out of bed. As much as I dreaded seeing Banks after my “episode” yesterday, I knew he didn’t take no for an answer, and I expected him to arrive on my doorstep early afternoon whether I wanted him there or not.
But when 2 p.m. rolled around, then three and four and he still hadn’t shown up, both relief and disappointment flooded my chest. Guilt rolled off the back of the disappointment, then renewed relief. The vicious cycle played on repeat until I finally tugged on my sneakers and stepped into the afternoon sunshine.
Despite the heaviness in my soul, I forced my shoulders back and put one foot in front of the other. Instead of heading toward Banks’s house where the forest trail started, I chose a trail that wove around the lake shore. The shimmering water lapped at the exposed pebbles and when the path returned to the pines, their comforting scent enveloped me.
By the time I returned to the cottage and sat on the steps overlooking the backyard, the ever-hovering shadows in my mind seemed lighter. A sigh wove from my mouth as I leaned back on my elbows and enjoyed the last of the evening sunshine.
For now, I had no worries. For now, at this precise moment, Banks didn’t cross my mind. And that was absolutely fine by me.
But the dread in the pit of my stomach returned mid-afternoon the next day as I stood at the kitchen sink, washing up; Banks’s truck pulled into the driveway.
“Fuck,” I hissed, then again when he jumped from the driver’s side and strode to the front door.
His knock meant business. Business I’d successfully avoided yesterday in his absence.
Hiding my bare, marked arm behind me, I opened the door with a tight chest and a breathless, “Hey.”
“Hey,” he said and shoved his hands deep into the front pockets of his jeans.
It only took a moment to notice something was amiss. His shoulders were unusually hunched and the hint of his cheeky smirk was nowhere to be seen.
I straightened and opened the door wider, surprised when his attention didn’t home onto my scars. “Hey, what happened?”
Sad, sparkless eyes connected with mine. “Nothing much. I uh... I have a day to make up to you, if you’re not put off by last time...”
He cleared his throat and adjusted his baseball cap awkwardly, and when his gaze met mine again, I saw the silent plea that didn’t come from ego. It rose from a deeper place; one he didn’t want to talk about.
I hesitated and eyed him. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can tell something’s bothering you. Do you want to come in?” I found myself offering.
Banks shook his head. “No. I can’t be inside right now. I’m going to go for a boat ride on the lake and would like you to come with me.”
His tortured expression had me studying him harder. The longer his gaze bored into mine, the sicker I felt in the pit of my stomach. He didn’t blink for the longest time, and only did when a sheen of moisture unexpectedly appeared.
“I’ll just get my things,” I whispered, knowing in my heart that above all else, in this moment he needed a friend, and I was that chosen person.
“Simone,” he murmured hoarsely.
I glanced over my shoulder, and only then did his eyes drop to my arm. “Please don’t cover up. Not for me.”
I nodded without speaking and rushed into my bedroom. Out of sight, I pressed my hand over my erratic pulse and fought to draw a full breath. I couldn’t figure out what threw me more; him turning up after two days, his unusually broken expression, or him dejectedly requesting me to keep my ugly secret unveiled.
After one last full inhale and exhale that barely loosened my lungs, I collected my hat and sunglasses, plus shoved a cardigan into my handbag, then slid into my sandals.
When I returned to the front door, a small genuine smile appeared on Banks’s mouth.
“Thank you,” he murmured, reaching for my hand. “I need that at the moment.”
My attention flicked from where his thumb moved back and forth over my knuckles to his face. “Need what?”
“You. Just you.” His hazel irises burned bright with unspoken words.
I gulped. Apprehension rose, but as Banks let his guard down again, my walls lowered in response. Some foreign, deep part of me instinctively recognized his unspoken appeal. There was no pressure or obligation to go with him, yet I felt a strong sense of loyalty because Banks was the kind of guy who would come to a person’s aid, no questions asked.
“Okay,” I replied.
With a single nod, he stepped aside and waited patiently while I locked the cottage, then gestured for me to lead the way to his truck. Pepin stood waiting on the truck seat, tail wagging and tongue lolling as I approached the passenger door.
Banks wordlessly opened the door and lifted his hand to guide me into the cab, yet his touch never made contact with my body.
I offered a shy smile as he clicked the door closed, then watched him round the hood. There was no cheeky wink. No spring in his step, and no easing of the subtle frown marring his handsome expression under the bill of his worn Portland Wolves baseball cap.
I cautiously watched him while scratching behind Pepin’s ears. Without glancing my way, Banks reversed onto the street and wrung the steering wheel as we drove in uneasy silence.
Pepin settled between us with her head on Banks’s thigh, and he set one hand on her head while casually driving with the other. Window down, cap pulled low, just a man and his dog cruising lakeside. My heart couldn’t help but soften.
I looked away before I got caught staring and focused on the gorgeous lake we drove alongside. After a few short minutes, we pulled into a parking lot close to a long dock with boats moored along it.
We walked the dock between flashy launches and modest crafts, and Banks shocked the hell out of me when we stopped next to a medium vessel and announced, “We’ll take this one today.”
I snorted before I could stop myself. “Like there’s an option?”
He pointed to the large, upmarket launch behind us. “There is.”
Feeling foolish, there was no ignoring the color on my cheeks as I took Banks’s hand and stepped onto the back of the beautiful lake boat. It rocked from side to side as Banks set about untying ropes, and I waited while he gathered them in.
Perched on the passenger seat, I held tight as he started the engine and idled us through the line of moored boats.
The wind whipped my hair about my face when we picked up speed, heading for the middle of the lake. Banks twisted his cap backward, then without warning turned inland again and steered us parallel to the shore. The view of Gatlin Falls from the water was just as breathtaking as it was from land.
The Lakeside Pint came into view, and as Banks pulled up to the dock out front, Wendy jogged down the lawn carrying a large paper bag.
She handed it to Banks and gave me a cheery wave before hurrying back along the dock and returning to the pub.
Banks set the bag against the windshield and smirked at me for the first time this afternoon. “I got us dinner.”
“That’s risky after last time,” I deadpanned, slightly apprehensive. There was nowhere to run in the middle of the lake if things turned to shit again.
Banks dashed me a quick look before turning the boat in a tight U-turn. “You won’t find a hint of coffee in that bag... Burgers and fries though.”
Butterflies came to life in my stomach when he winked, and I focused all my energy on quietening them as we motored across the glassy water.
We eventually pulled up in a sheltered bay and dropped the anchor. Banks stared at the water with his hands balled on the side of the boat for the longest moment.
“My mom’s friend passed away while hiking, and I can’t tell Mom yet because the family is being informed as we speak.”
My mouth fell open in shock; I’d heard whispers of a woman missing in the Falls area but coming from a large city, I never expected it to impact this close to home.
Not noticing my reaction, Banks continued, “I was on the team that found her. Heart attack, it appears. Middle of the trail. Pack still on. Just... laying there all alone.”
His shoulders rose and fell with each deep breath, making my heart ache for him. I slid from the passenger seat and set my hand on his warm shoulder.
“I’m so sorry. That must have been terrible for you.”
He lifted his gaze and looked me dead in the eye. “It was the hardest rescue I’ve had to date. We normally find them before it’s too late.”
Emotionally driven with empathy overriding my own saga, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and lifted onto tippy-toes when he turned to welcome my embrace. It was the first voluntary physical contact I’d initiated, and it felt alarmingly right.
His body warmth gave comfort like no other, but when his hands touched down on my torso and left a searing path as his embrace tightened around me, I couldn’t hold back a gasp. Our connection was... inexplicable.
I simply held him while he clung to me and buried his nose in my neck. We stayed locked arm-in-arm with the water gently lapping against the side of the boat for the longest time.
When Banks’ arms relaxed, I slowly released him. I lowered from my tiptoes but kept my hands on his shoulders. Likewise, his hands stayed on my waist as if given silent permission by my own touch.
“Thank you for being here for me, Simone. I ah... I didn’t want company but didn’t want to be alone and thought you’d understand that.”
“More than you know,” I whispered. “I’m sorry you’re going through this, and for your loss.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.” His fingers flexed on my ribcage as he gave me another small smile. “You didn’t have to hug me. I appreciated it though.”
My hands dropped from his shoulders to his forearms to keep myself steadied against the gentle rocking motion of the boat. “I wanted to hug you.”
Before I could blink, Banks gathered me against his chest and secured me there with an embrace that spoke of gratitude instead of seeking comfort. The rhythmic thump of his heartbeat under my ear almost brought tears to my eyes.
“Thank you,” he murmured against the top of my head, then planted a quick kiss before releasing me. “I’m going to have a swim before I eat. Wanna jump in too?”
I eyed the dark blue surrounding us and shook my head. “I’m not a fan of deep water. I’m going to sit this one out.”
“Fine by me, new girl.” He flicked off his cap, then paused with his fingers gripping the back of his t-shirt neck. “Um, just before I take this off, you should be aware that I have a scar too. One that I don’t normally like showing.”
His innocence made my heart pang. I lifted my arms, putting my self-harm marks on full display. “This is our safe place, right?”
Banks smiled shyly, then whipped his shirt over his head. While the scar was blindingly obvious, my eyes were distracted by each ridge and hollow on his torso. His primed abs shifted and flexed with his movements as he cast his t-shirt aside, then he splayed a hand over the middle of his chest.
“You doin’ that on purpose?” he asked huskily.
“Doing what?”
“That look. It’s making me self-conscious.”
I cleared my throat and giggled nervously. “There’s absolutely nothing to be self-conscious about because you’re...” Hot came to mind, but I couldn’t fucking say that. “...in shape,” I summed up, then grimaced because it sounded absolutely ridiculous.
“Aside from one part of me,” he murmured.
I reached for his hand and slowly peeled it away from his chest, revealing a long, raised scar running from below the base of his throat to a couple of inches past his sternum.
I set my fingers on the top of the gnarled line, only to recoil when he flinched. “Sorry. Does it still hurt?”
Banks cleared his throat, but his voice still came rough. “No, but no one’s touched it before. It’s... new for me.”
“I’m sorry. I should have asked first.”
He shook his head and gently reached for my hand. “You don’t need permission to touch me, sweetheart.”
We held each other’s gaze until I couldn’t stand the intensity any longer. I downcast my eyes while whispering, “Thanks,” only to look back up when Banks lifted my hand and traced my fingers over the length of his scar.
“Heart surgery?” I asked.
“Heart transplant,” he corrected. “I shouldn’t be here today; almost two years ago I was given a few weeks, if not days, to live. Someone had to lose their life so I could have mine, and for that, I live each day not only for myself, but in honor of that person too.”
“Do you know who...?”
Banks shook his head and linked our fingers together. “I don’t. I’ve tried to contact the family, but I’ve heard nothing. It pains me, but I understand that it would be so tough for them, so...” He shrugged. “...the ball is in their court, so to speak.”
I blinked hard to rid the prickling tears from my eyes. “I can’t imagine... I am glad you got your second chance—not everyone does.”
“Don’t I know it,” he whispered. “I’m incredibly lucky and grateful. Being on a deathbed does crazy things to a person.”
He spoke of an experience I knew all too well from the opposite angle. It catapulted me back to rushing into the ICU to find Reagan in a coma. My desperate prayers and wrenching pleas for him to wake were fruitless, resulting in memories I didn’t like to revisit if I could help it.
As if sensing my mental time-slip, Banks double-squeezed my hand. His fingers releasing mine signaled the end of the heavy conversation, which he moved to lighter topics.
“So, my question now is, front or backflip?” He climbed onto the side of the boat, arms out for balance, and twisted at his chiseled waist to look at me.
My eyes perused his body, from his muscular arms and shoulders to the narrowing where his shorts started, then descended his shapely legs. Those legs turned and his toes gripped the side of the boat as he balanced with his back to the water.
He held my gaze when it returned to his face, then smirked before launching into a backflip. Pepin barked and jumped off the boat after him and swam to his side when he surfaced. He laughed and playfully swam away from her, then tread water harder when she tried to climb on his shoulders.
The moment of joy after the gloomy conversation had me smiling and sitting on the ledge at the back of the boat. I let my legs float in the water while Banks swam around with Pepin. When they both grew tired, Banks shoved her aboard and laughed when she shook water all over me then he settled on the back of the boat with his arms and torso out of the water. He laid his head in his folded arms, head facing my way with a smile, and let his legs float leisurely in the water.
We simply enjoyed the warm sunshine, the gentle sway of the lake beneath the hull, and each other’s silent company.
As if our heart-to-hearts hadn’t been hard enough already, Banks said, “So, tell me something, new girl.”
I dipped my toes in and out of the lake. “Like what?”
“Tell me about him: about Reagan.”
