I tossed a log on the fire I had made in the pit behind the house. I took a sip of beer and cushioned my guitar in my lap.
The strings stung my fingers as I strummed the first chord. Every part of me felt the chill through the wire. But it was what I needed. I wanted to linger in the numbness as I drank myself drunk. As I watched the flames turn to embers. As I sang words I didn’t have the guts to admit to anyone else except an empty backyard.
The fire crackled as I put the song together, one broken thought after another. I reached for the last beer in the case. How in the hell was I all out of beer? Maybe if the Thrashers released me I had a backup career. I kicked the coals with the heel of my boot. Fuck. That wasn’t even funny.
I didn’t have anything if I didn’t have football. I shook my head. It was worse than that—I didn’t have anything if I didn’t have her.
And that’s what I had to face here. That’s why I truly came back in the middle of the season. I never showed my face here in the fall.
I had to let go of Sierra once and for all, or I was going to re-break over and over. There wasn’t anything I could do until I said goodbye. She was like a ghost on this island. I saw glimpses of her when I drove over the bridge. Every corner took me back to the first time and the last.
I knew there was a bottle of bourbon in the house somewhere. I staggered inside, fumbling for the lights and grabbed the bottle from the back of the kitchen cabinet.
I twisted off the top, feeling the thirst pool in my mouth for the relief of the whiskey. My salvation might be in the bottom of that bottle. I tipped it back and strolled to the fire.
I picked up the guitar and let the words tumble.
I had to remember before I could forget. I knew she had forgotten. Tonight I’d drink the whiskey. I’d let the fire burn and I’d remember enough for the both of us.
36
Sierra
It was hard to believe this morning I was sitting on the floor in my tiny apartment crying my eyes out and now I was here.
My hands trembled as I parked the car in front of the boathouse. This had to be the single most insane thing I had ever done. I looked through the window of the workshop building and saw a figure walk past the glass. An instant swirl of butterflies descended on my stomach, followed by nausea.
Of all the nights for Emily to work late, this would be the one. I needed her. Needed her more than any other time. It was nine o’clock, and my phone hadn’t rung once. I had left her three desperate voicemails.
I had rushed straight to the airport with the pregnancy test in my purse. Luckily, flights between Raleigh and Dallas were frequent—I was on the next flight to Raleigh three hours later, and touching down in my home state at five o’clock.
It had all happened so fast; I didn’t have a great plan. All I knew was I had to get to Blake. I thought that was going to be tracking him down in Orlando, but with a quick online search I read that he had gone home while the rest of the team was in Mexico.
I watched the shadowy figure pass by the window again. Well, I didn’t just spend a fortune and fly across halfway across the country to sit in my car. I pushed open the car door and walked toward the boathouse office.
I bit down on my bottom lip. I knew Blake wouldn’t be excited to see me. He had made that clear months ago. It wasn’t like I hadn’t tried to call. Every time his phone rang it went straight to voicemail. I didn’t have a choice. I had to do this. I had to live in truth this time. It was the right thing to do—the only thing I could do. I knocked on the door.
“Hold on.” I heard the friendly voice through the other side.
“Sierra?” Cole stepped back with a puzzled look on his face. “What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?” I smiled, feeling my knees go weak. I’d come so far, but now that I was here I was losing my nerve. And I couldn’t count on body not to roll with nausea at any second.
The plane ride had been uncomfortable and embarrassing enough.
“Yeah, come on in.” Cole pulled the door to the side, allowing me to step inside. “So, I’m just going to guess you’re here to see Blake.”
I twirled on the heels of my boots. “Good guess. Is he here?” I wasn’t sure if I should hope he would appear from the office.
When I played this scenario out in my head, it didn’t include Cole.
“Yes and No. How did you know he was on the island and not Orlando?”
I shrugged, embarrassed to tell him I had stalked his cousin’s social media accounts. Everywhere Blake went there were pictures. I knew he had landed in Raleigh yesterday. That only meant one thing—he was here. He had a bye week. The team was off for almost two weeks.
“A good guess?” I faked dumb.
“Well, he’s not here. He’s up at the Dock House. It’s Tuesday. You remember Tuesday nights around here, don’t you?” He had taken a seat on a nearby stool.