“Sure, no problem. I can see someone’s got a case of the regrets,” he started, and Travis had to physically stop himself from sighing in part relief and part annoyance. And then tensed right up again when he added, “But if you ever wanna hook up again, hit me up.”
Yeah, not gonna happen.
But Travis nodded politely and walked him to the door, said goodbye, and practically slammed it in his face afterward.
Turning the locks, he cursed and banged his forehead into the door a few times.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Why had he drank so much? That half bottle hadn’t been e-fucking-nough?
As he walked back to the kitchen, he cursed at the bottles still littering the counter. He’d rinsed and cleaned up the ones from the days before, but these were all fresh from the previous night.
Gritting his teeth, he jerked the tap on and waited for the water to get scalding hot before he washed out and rinsed every single bottle, placing them haphazardly in the drying rack. He’d recycle them later.
Assuming you don’t find another liquor store and hook up with another rando.
Groaning, he put his head in his hands and rubbed his tense temples. The smell of coffee wavered through the air and he sucked in a sharp breath, still wearing boxers and a t-shirt, still a mess.
I can’t keep doing this.
He couldn’t drink twenty-four seven. Couldn’t hold the loneliness at bay with a bottle. A cold glass wasn’t the same as a hand wrapped around his own. He couldn’t run from his problems forever.
A teeny tiny part of him said watch me.
But a bigger part of him said something needed to change.
“So what’s this place called again?” Jake questioned for the third time as he threw the car in park and turned to him after parking in the drop off area of the airport.
Travis tugged his ball cap from his carry on and shrugged. “You remember my tour from 2015?”
His brow furrowed in confusion and shook his head.
“We went to this tiny ass town, played for like five hundred people. Then we slummed it at some cheap hotel before getting out of there. This place is about an hour from that.”
“And… so why is that the place you wanna go?”
“I looked it up. The town has a population of a whopping eight hundred something.”
“Again, I ask, why do you wanna go to a town with no civilization?”
“I just need to get away for a while, somewhere where no one will bother me. I’ll keep you updated.”
“If you tell me you’re going to ‘find yourself,’ I’m calling Hallmark right away.” His tease was accompanied by air quotes, and Travis rolled his eyes. “Seriously,” he continued, “call me when you land and when you get into town so I know you haven’t been kidnapped by a small town serial killer. Oh! Hey, man, maybe you’ll meet a sexy lumberjack to keep you warm since it’s so fucking cold.”
“If I roll my eyes any harder, I’ll go blind. Fuck off,” Travis grumbled, but couldn’t help the twitch of his lips as he opened the passenger door. Jake met him around the other side as he grabbed his bags from the back, then leveled him with a serious stare.
“Be safe and call me or Liz if you need anything.”
Trying to play off the rush of emotions, Travis coughed out a laugh. “Okay, Dad.”
“I’m gonna let that one slide because I know you know I’m serious. Have a safe trip. Love you, man.”
Hugs were exchanged, more goodbyes mumbled while Travis’s heart swelled and his throat grew scratchy. Then Jake was gone, lost in the sea of brake lights at LAX. Pulling his hat down low, and wearing his purposely out of character blue college hoodie, thanks to Jake, Travis waded into the sea of bodies and made his way to check in his bags.
The flight was uneventful, made bearable by the alcohol the stewardess had been so kind to offer. By the time he landed, he was relaxed in that way only whiskey could provide. It made the stress of finding a taxi or bus willing to go as far out of the way as he was not so monumental. Eventually, once he was directed to an honest to God phone book—he hadn’t seen one in years—he located the number of a taxi service and ignored the sideways glance from the information desk when he handed the book back.
Bag and guitar case in hand—subtle, right?—he waited just outside the doors of the airport with his head down and buried in his phone. Though he found there was nothing to do. He hated checking social media, and figured the stories still being spun would kill his buzz. So he shot a text off to Jake to let him know he hadn’t died in a fiery plane crash, and then kept his hat pulled low and his hands tucked in his hoodie pockets, glancing up every few moments to make sure the taxi hadn’t arrived.
By the time a half hour had gone by, his buzz was gone, the cold was settling in through the fabric of his hoodie, and his breath was fogging the air in front of him with every exhale. And he began to regret leaving his cigarettes at home.
Then worry crept in. Had he missed the taxi completely?
Just as he was prepared to pull out his phone and redial the company, the logo matching the one in the phone book appeared on the side of a bright, metallic blue Chevy Malibu. Also subtle.
The driver rolled down the window and gave him a once over. “You’re heading to Holdengate?”
“That’s me.”
The driver nodded to the back and Travis took his bags to the trunk, carefully placing his guitar inside before slamming it with a thunk.
He breathed an audible sigh of relief when he slid into the warm backseat of the car. It was clean and scented freshly of pine, courtesy of the green tree hanging from the rearview mirror.
“I’m Dean. Are you one for chitchat?” the driver asked as he navigated the traffic of the airport.
“Not really, at least not today, anyway. I’m Travis.”
“I just have one question for ya, then I’ll leave you alone.”
Travis wished he could see his expression, but mumbled, “Alright, hit me,” and tried to muster an ounce of politeness.
“What the hell is Travis Cherry supposed to do in Holdengate?”
TRAVIS
“Alright, so hiding out isn’t going to work that well then, huh?” Travis questioned warily as his heart sank.
“You’re not one to blend in, kid.”
Travis didn’t bother correcting the man, but he was no kid, not in his late twenties.
Leaning his head against the seat, he shut his eyes and considered telling the guy to turn the car around. He could go back home, but hiding in his mom’s basement while the entire town gossiped about his fall from grace didn’t sound appealing in any aspect.
“Don’t worry. We’re all very polite out in Holden.”
His lips twitched. “So I’m not gonna be mobbed once I arrive at… shit, I already forgot the name of it. The mom-and-pop inn.”
“That’s the McAlisters. The inn’s been in their family for ages, but you’re just about the newest face we’ve seen around these parts in a while. Gonna get a lot of curious looks. No mobs, though, if I were you, I’d be preparin’ myself for a lot of starry-eyed gazes,” he explained with a chuckle.
He didn’t know why, but the thought of a town of strangers talking about him didn’t bother him. Not the way it did when he imagined Susan and her uppity friends getting into his business.