“He showed up at the marina the very next day after the accident. He was green as hell with a hangover but he checked out my truck and made arrangements to repair it. While he was there, he took a look at some fiberglass damage on Year Ten and also made arrangements to patch it. That’s how I discovered he’s the best damn mechanic and auto body guy in the state. He’s a good man he just has a past.”
“Don’t we all,” I sigh, settling deeper into my seat with Sy’s observant regard periodically fixed on me.
The rest of the drive back to Palmetto Grove is made in companionable silence with me stuck to my phone and Sy alternating between glances at me and studying the road like it holds the secret to life—and I am grateful for the reprieve the silence gives us.
There is a lot to digest, a lot to think about and sleeping with Sylas has only muddied the waters. I may love swan diving into those muddy waters right now but it doesn’t mean that it’s the smartest course of action. I can’t even begin to entertain what my goodbye will look like. Still, I can’t bring myself to regret my time with him, triggers be damned. The delicate dance of remaining evasive is, however, growing very old already and I have only been home a few days. Skirting around Sylas and constantly choosing my words—what I reveal to him and what I keep guarded is exhausting. Especially so when Sylas is still very good at peeling back my carefully erected walls of defense.
We arrive at my parent’s house and both of them are on the front porch, books in hand, and iced tea on the small tables flanking the porch swing daddy built when I was still a gap-toothed kid.
“This isn’t going to be weird at all is it?” I say under my breath. Sy just chuckles as he gets out of the truck and comes around to the passenger side to help me out.
I climb the steps with Sy at my back and smile sweetly at my parents. “Rae, Sy, how was the fishing trip?” Daddy asks.
“Terrible.”
“Good,” Sy and I say at the same time turning the atmosphere leaden with nerves as we both cast our eyes anywhere but toward my parents.
“And the fundraiser plans?” Daddy inquires.
“Rae has been working her magic. I don’t know exactly what she’s doing, but she says it will work out.” He smiles.
“I’m sure it will. Rae is good at wrangling the public,” Daddy looks at me with pride glimmering in his eyes.
“What other trouble y’all been gettin’ in to down in Cattail?” Momma asks like the leader of the grand inquisition and there is no glimmering pride in her eyes on skepticism.
“With such a short window of time to work this event up into a headline snatcher it hardly leaves time to get into trouble, Momma,” I say coolly but silence is quick to settle over the four of us once more. I feel like a teenager busted while attempting to sneak out.
“I’ll be back,” I say before slipping inside the house, the air conditioning a welcome sensation on my flushed cheeks. I am halfway up the stairs when I hear the screen door creak open then gently tap closed again. I keep my pace, entering my room with Momma hot on my heels. I can tell it’s her by her gait.
“Rae, what’s the meaning of all this? Fishing trips, staying the night?”
“Did you or did you not volunteer me to help his banquet?” I retort.
“Yes, of course I did but don’t get lippy with me missy britches. You know what I’m gettin’ at.”
“I’m just trying to help him secure a windfall in donations from the charity event. That’s it,” I lie. “We’re just friends, Momma,” I insist, collecting my things from my childhood room. “Friends help one another. Friends spend time together.”
“I saw how he looked at you when he helped you out of his truck,” she says like she’s solved the case.
“And what do you believe you saw,” I ask tiredly as I coil up my laptop charger and tuck it into my workbag.
“A man hoping against hope.” Momma clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “I knew he still had a flame for you but I never thought you’d put kindling on it, Raegan. You made a big show of hating him for the last decade then you show up and cozy right on up to him.” “If I had known—I wouldn’t have sent you his way so easily,” she says this as though she’s thinking aloud. “This has heartbreak written all over it and I can’t take the sight of it.”
“I’m a big girl, Momma. I’m smart enough to avoid getting my heartbroken.”
“I wasn’t talkin’ about you.”
Ouch.
“Listen, Sy and I have an understanding. This is a favor to him and an opportunity to do something for a good cause while several big wigs can put their money where their mouth is. That’s it. No attachments, no hard feelings, no regrets, no expectations, just two consenting adults enjoying a few days together while we wring all the cash we can out of every deep pocket in my phonebook. That’s all.” The words sound sincere. So much so that even I am tempted to believe them. “I could use a break from the campaign to recharge a little, break the monotony. I needed this too,” I admit, and that part is definitely the god’s honest truth. I grasp her by the shoulders and hold her at arms length, hoping she believes me—hoping I believe me too. Momma’s eyes are wary but she inhales deeply then sighs.
“You’re a grown woman but my memory is sharp, and it doesn’t seem like it was that long ago that my daughter was a sobbing mess for months on end and Sylas Broussard camped out in the front yard every day until one of the adults dragged his hind end home. Afterward you both moved away and neither of you seemed quite the same since. I don’t know what y’all are up to, hell I don’t even think y’all know what you’re up to but please tell me some careful thinking is actually going on,” she notes somewhat dismally but doesn’t say more beyond that, something for which I am grateful.
“I’ll be back in a few days, Momma,” I assure her with a smile.
“I don’t think there is any room for deception for either of you. If what you say is true, great but if not—,”
“Momma,” I groan.
“Don’t you momma me. I hope you are both forthcoming with one another.”
“Like you were forthcoming with me about Dad’s diagnosis?” For a moment her eyes widen and she flinches but she’s quick to recover.
“Your father has diabetes, yes, but with his medication and diet, it’s under control. There was no need to bother you with any of it. We have it handled.” The upward tilt of her chin and crossed arms tells me she’s not going to cower under my scrutiny and in truth I don’t relish the idea of criticizing her or my father, no matter how upsetting it was to be left out of the loop.
“I’m not trying to criticize you or Daddy for not letting me know that dad was sick, and that they took him off the truck at work I just wish you would have told me, that’s all. I could have helped—still can.”
“Sylas was here to help.” I nod, unwilling to contribute anything aloud that would give away how conflicted I am about Sylas.
“Rae when you go, be sure you leave that man the way you found him. In one piece.”
“Yes Momma.” I don’t bother telling her that Sylas isn’t in one piece and neither am I. You can’t break something that’s already broken and Optimism made a valid point about closure. It has been a long time coming. I still blame Sylas for the things that happened back then and his mere presence is a bright, shining reminder of what happened back then but I also miss him. More than that, I hate the way things were left between us. Maybe this time, when we go our separate ways, it will be without either of us making a spectacle of ourselves like we did last time.