“Did you two get in a fight or something?” Miles asked. “Is she upset about ending her campaign for mayor? And that you’re still running?”
Gil shook his head. “It’s not like I won. She dropped out. There’s a difference.” He ran a hand through his hair, debating whether to get into this with his friends tonight. “She’s ignoring my calls. She doesn’t want to see me. The last time I saw her, I basically told her I loved her.” He offered up a quiet, humorless chuckle. “In hindsight, I guess that might have been a mistake.”
River cringed across the table. “Your timing might have been off by a little bit. Wasn’t she still reeling from the news article?”
Gil took a sip of his Coke. “I stupidly thought it would put good news on top of the bad. I was trying to make her feel better, but it just made things awkward between us. Mine and Moira’s timing has always been off.”
“So you don’t really love her?” Jake asked. “You were just trying to make her feel better?”
Gil looked at his friend, wondering how honest to be. He swallowed past a tight throat, his chest aching due to Moira’s absence in his life. “Just breathing right now hurts because I know I can’t see her tonight. Or tomorrow. I can’t taste my food. I can’t enjoy a sunset. Nothing feels good right now. Not without her.”
“Wow,” Jake said. “I knew you liked her and all, but I didn’t know you liked her that much. That sounds like love to me.”
“Me too,” Miles agreed.
“Why can’t you see her tonight or tomorrow?” Roman asked. Roman wasn’t from Somerset Lake, so he didn’t know that Gil had been pining for Moira for most of his adult life.
“Because Moira says she wants space and time. I have to give that to her. Don’t I?”
Jake shrugged. “There’s a fine line between respecting a woman’s wishes and making sure she knows you’re going to stand by her no matter what. That you won’t just disappear on her.”
Miles nodded. “She needs to know you’ll fight for her while respecting her wishes.”
“How do you do that?” Gil asked, raising his glass of Coke to his mouth. Even his soda tasted flat with his current mood. “It seems contradictory.”
“No one said love was easy.” Jake patted Gil’s back. “You did say you loved her though, right?”
Gil massaged a hand over his face. “I thought love was supposed to make a person feel amazing. Not like they are coming down with the flu.”
“It does both. Just one question. Did Moira say she loved you too?” Miles asked.
Gil sighed, the ache in his chest deepening. He’d thought Moira’s feelings for him were growing, but now he wondered if it was just him. “No, she didn’t say it back.”
“Ouch,” Doug said, making all the guys laugh. “Well, I love you, Gilly.”
“I love you, too, Gilbert,” Jake teased, clapping another hand to Gil’s back.
Gil laughed quietly, despite his broken heart. “You guys have a funny way of showing it.”
* * *
When Gil got home later that night, he sat on his bed debating whether to text Moira. He’d waited awhile, trying to give her space, but something the guys had said tonight resonated with him. He needed to make sure she knew he was still there for her when she was ready. He’d thought it went without saying, but he needed to make sure.
He picked up his phone and pulled up Moira’s contact. Then he tapped out a text.
Gil: Maybe not tonight or tomorrow, but when you’re ready for a sunset boat ride, let me know.
Some foolish part of him waited for her to respond and tell him that tomorrow sounded great. She didn’t. She didn’t reply at all. Gil set his phone down, lay back on his pillow, and closed his eyes.
He awoke with a start a few hours later when something hit his front door with a loud bang. Gil sat up and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark, his ears tuning to the silence and waiting for something more. Goldie took off running toward the door, barking, and making that effort impossible for Gil. He followed her, checking the time on his cell phone as he walked. It was one a.m.
Gil looked out the peephole and noted a carful of teens. That’s when he realized what the noise had been. A rock. It was finally his turn to have his front door rocked on. He chuckled to himself as he watched out the peephole. The kids weren’t taking off per their MO. Gil waited, realizing they couldn’t take off because they were having car trouble.
Gil really didn’t want to call the police, but these kids had to be stopped one way or another. They could hurt someone. Reluctantly, he dialed 911. Moira didn’t work the nightshift anymore, so he got a male dispatcher. “Yes, hello. There is a carful of teenagers outside my home. They threw a rock at my door, and they appear to be having car issues. If you send someone now, you’ll catch your rock throwers.”
Goldie looked up at Gil as if to say, Aren’t you going out there?
Gil petted her head. “No way, girl. I’m going to let the authorities handle this.”
Within minutes, two sheriff’s cars pulled up, one on each side of the teens’ car. Gil watched as the deputies talked to the kids. Then they took the kids, four altogether, and put them in the back seats of the sheriff’s vehicles.
Gil felt bad about ratting them out, but this behavior had to stop. Maybe Moira was right, and the town needed more resources catering to the teenage population. Kids need after-school programs and places to socialize. He wanted to text Moira and tell her about this turn of events, but she’d find out tomorrow. Gil was sure that the dispatchers talked to one another, and catching the rock throwers was big news. It might even make a bullet point on Reva’s blog.
Gil watched the deputies’ cars drive away, leaving the teens’ car parked in front of Gil’s home. Once they were gone, he stepped outside and looked at his front door, where there was a huge dent in the painted metal surface. A dent that would unlikely come out. It wasn’t the end of the world, but he’d have to live with it or take the door off its hinges and replace it. He walked back inside and locked up behind himself.
“I’ll check on the kids in the morning,” Gil told Goldie. “Tonight, we need to get our beauty sleep. Bed,” he said.
Goldie knew that word. She took off running ahead of him and leaped onto the mattress in his room. Gil lay down beside her, but he was wide awake, and his brain was firmly on Moira’s suggestion about a skate park.
Sitting up against his headboard, he pulled his laptop to rest on his thighs. Then he began researching similar-type places to suggest to the town and possible locations. He wasn’t sure where the money would come from, and it wouldn’t happen overnight, but Moira was right. It would be a nice addition for the town’s underserved population. Some might say, it would be a necessary addition.
* * *
The next morning, Moira parked and got out of her car. It was true. Going anywhere on Hannigan Street involved a long walk. She could use the walk this morning though. Part of her was still considering turning back and going home. Another part of her kept reminding herself that she was supposed to be a small-town hero. And the person who needed a hero the most right now was herself.