Where We Left Off (19 page)

Out of every piece in this studio, she was the truest form of art. Scrap the rest, all of it.

Mallory was my truth.

Her gaze met mine, softly and unexpectedly.

The vase faltered in her grip and I saw the recognition on her face, in her features that pulled tight.

“Heath.” She breathed my name.

My body vibrated. I’d wanted this day to happen for longer than I should have. Even when I was with Kayla. And it was here. She was here. I reacted the only way I knew how. With two long strides, I was inches from her.

She searched me with a look that no one had given me, ever.

“I’ll just be taking those.” Monica jutted her hand angrily in between us and tugged the vase from Mallory. I saw her shaking her head in a way that should’ve frustrated me, but I didn’t think about it. I couldn’t think about anyone or anything but the woman right in front of me. Everything else faded away.

“Mallory.” I wanted to shout her name, to shout everything I’d felt for the last twelve years, but it slipped from me, protected in a whisper. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

She laughed quietly and there was some relief in it. “It’s me.”

I brought my hand to her cheek, no second-guessing.

She could have shrugged away. She could have jolted at my touch. She could have slapped it down, asked me what I was doing or why, but she didn’t.

She didn’t.

She closed her eyes and leaned into my palm.

Oh my God, I still love you.
The promise from all those years ago was fresh in my mind and heart. It took more power than I had to keep it in those places instead of letting it fly out into the open, into the space between us.

Like she knew, she smiled sweetly. She was beautiful. As a girl, she was adorable. As a woman, she was incredible. Her strawberry blonde hair curled around her shoulders and her green eyes were alight with the kindness that always defined Mallory in my memories. She’d grown into herself in a way I didn’t think possible.

She glanced at the floor and swiveled her head back and forth, and broke our connection along with it. “I have to go,” she stammered, her breathing labored and unsteady. I tried not to notice the way her chest rose and fell under her silk blouse. “It’s late and Corbin and the floral shop tomorrow and …” She wasn’t making sense, but it was okay. I let her have the moment to take it all in. “I have to go.”

“All right.” I smiled and she flashed me a grin that made my knees completely unbuckle. “But I need to see you again.”

Mallory expelled a huge breath through her mouth. “Heath.”

“Please.” I took her slender hands into mine. “Please, Mallory.”

Whatever wall she was trying to build crumbled and she let me in, a little at least. That was all was asking for. “Okay.”

“Give me your phone.”

Without hesitation, Mallory reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone, handing it to me. She looked up at me with trusting and expectant eyes.

I dialed my number and when I felt it vibrate in my pocket, I pulled mine out so I could save her number there.

But it was already there.
Mallory Alcott.
After all these years, she’d had the same phone number. A different name, but the same number.

If only I’d had the courage to call it. If only we had connected years before. If only.

Fate didn’t care about my if only’s. And I only cared about my what now’s. I was tired of waiting on fate, on destiny, so I took things into my own hands when I asked, “What do we do now?”

“You call me.”

“When?”

Another smile from her full lips. “When you want to talk to me.”

I clicked the button on my phone and the room filled with the
trill
of her ringtone.

She laughed, deep and heartily, so much that she bent at the waist.

“You’re not going to pick up?” I nudged my chin toward the phone in her hand.

Humoring me, she answered. “Hello?”

“Hi Mallory, it’s me, Heath.” I saw her nerves surface as she bit her bottom lip between her teeth. I couldn’t look at anything but her mouth, remembering what it felt like against mine back when we were kids. “I know it’s been a while, but I hear you’re in California now and funny thing, but so am I.”

There was a touch of sadness in her look and I wanted to take it from her immediately, so I kept talking. “Anyway, I was wondering if you’d like to hang out sometime. No pressure. Just two old friends catching up.”

“I’d love that.” She grinned. “Truly.”

“Me, too,” I said as I lowered the phone from my ear but kept my eyes pinned on hers.

Monica came back from wherever she had disappeared to and Mallory left like she said she needed to, but I remained standing still, unable to move for so long I had to shake myself out of my daze. I gave Monica the huge apology she was due, but she waved me off, saying she got it.

“First loves will do that to you,” she’d said
with
a laugh and added, “I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same if I was reunited with mine. But we were able to have a little fun while it lasted, huh? That’s all I think either of us
were
looking for.”

I hugged her and thanked her for her candor and we set back to work getting the studio ready.

I wanted to tell Monica that her mother’s
Truth
showcase would never come close to the exchange that just took place right in the middle of this studio between Mallory and me, but I didn’t because not everyone had the same truth.

I knew mine though, and it was Mallory. It was us.

I just hoped with all my being that I could become her truth again, too.

Mallory

“I’m so, so sorry.”

“Stop.” Boone dropped his hand heavily onto my knee. “Family doesn’t apologize.”

“I should’ve been paying more attention. The light had been on since this morning.”

“It’s no problem, Mallory. Honestly. It’ll be fine to leave it overnight where you parked it. I’ll come back with Sharon in the morning to get it and I’ll bring a gallon of gas, too.” He stroked his beard and switched his focus forward through the windshield. It was dark out now, the sun finally sliding from the sky. Lights flickered on at establishments that dotted the road as we passed, their illuminated colors an amber blur spread across my window. I let it lull me as the car rocked down the highway.

“So, are we going to talk about the tears?” Boone asked. “I’m not good with the emotional stuff, but I can sure try.”

I sunk into the passenger seat of the truck. There were cracks from the wear of time that spliced the leather and I curled my finger into one that had tufts of stuffing popping from it. It didn’t distract me the way I hoped, though. “I feel like I’ve just seen a ghost.”

“I feel that way a lot about Dylan.”

“Oh. No.” What an insensitive thing for me to say. I felt like an idiot.
Of course
it should be Dylan I was talking about.
Dylan
I was thinking of. “Just an old friend.”

“Of the boy variety?”

I smiled without meaning to. “Yes, an old boyfriend.”

“And you weren’t expecting to see him.” The truck swung wide around the corner and the Quinn house came into view at the edge of a court. I’d be staying there tonight, which was one part comforting and one part confusing. I didn’t want to be in a place that reminded me so much of my husband when I had thoughts of someone who wasn’t him. It wasn’t rational, of that I was well aware, but emotions rarely were.

“I honestly never thought I’d see him again.”

“Are you glad to have seen him?”

I bit my lip to tuck back the tremble. I only answered with a small nod.

Boone’s eyes met mine. “Then I’m very glad you saw him, sweetheart. So very glad.”

I needed that more than anything. I needed permission to feel
again
because on my own I didn’t know that I’d ever allow it. To feel anything other than the loss.

“Thank you, Boone,” I said as we pulled into the driveway and parked. I climbed down from the truck and shut its door. “For everything.”

“This is not the sort of thing you need to thank me for. I’m your dad. I’m happy that I get to come to your rescue.”

He held the front door open to allow me to step inside once we got to the house. The lights were off downstairs, all but the glow of the baby monitor in the kitchen that flickered in a rainbow arch from Sharon’s singing voice as she lullabied my boy to sleep.

“Sounds like our little munchkin is just getting to bed,” Boone acknowledged, his eyebrows waggling my direction. “I know you’d probably like to go tuck him in, but do you think it would be all right if Sharon settles him down first? I have to admit, she was quite excited to hear that he’d be spending the night. That little man has her wrapped around his tiny, sticky finger.”

“Of course. In fact, she can do the honors tonight.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I actually might have spent the other night with him all snuggled in my arms in our rocker, so I think it’s definitely Grandma’s turn.”

Boone gave me a hug before he headed to bed and even though I wanted to slouch into his arms, I tensed. If I let myself really feel it, I’d lose it. I didn’t want to lose it again tonight.

The hallway was long and I shuffled my way down it. Pictures varying in size and frame dotted the walls but I didn’t look at them. I’d seen them all a million times. So many were of my husband, youthful and vibrant. He was the star quarterback at Whitney High and there was no shortage of recognition for his performance here. It was practically a Hall of Fame.

I tugged on the door handle to his room and entered. It was quiet.
Of course
it was quiet. It didn’t smell like him, either, and I knew that, but I still took a deep,
lung-filling
breath. If anything, it was musty and dank. There were cleats and trophies and leather footballs on shelves and his varsity jacket pinned to the wall, all flat and stretched out, missing any form. I didn’t know him then and in a way, it made it easier to be here—surrounded by so many of his things and memories that didn’t involve me—than it was to be at home where his absence in
our
life was so noticeably strong.

I peeled back the covers on the twin-size bed as I toed off my shoes and slipped my jeans from my hips, tossing my purse to the nightstand before doing so. My shirt would have to do for pajamas. I knew I could rummage through his dresser and find an old, worn t-shirt, but I didn’t do it. Moving on from my husband was not made any easier when I wore his clothes.

The Quinn’s used this as a spare bedroom, so there was a weird comfort in the fact that it wasn’t just Dylan’s space anymore, like some shrine to him. I slumped onto the mattress and the pillow wrapped softly around my head. My body was tired and welcomed the promise of rest.

Many times when I lay here, I thought of what Dylan was like as a teenage boy, if he would’ve been someone I would have been interested in or even dated.

But my heart wasn’t available then.

It belonged to Heath McBride.

Our encounter tonight at Caroline’s studio must’ve been the reason for the phrase, “What are the chances?” I’d thought about him often over the years, less in the current ones, but still, there was always a piece of me that held on to him, on to what we had. It wasn’t an easy love to let go.

And he looked so good tonight. Amazing, actually. The dimples that won me over the first time I laid eyes on him were even more appealing now on the face of man. They pricked deeply into his cheeks when he smiled at me, his grin wide and warm. There were times when I’d thought about what he might look like all grown up, but I never let myself dwell on it.

I was dwelling now. Completely dwelling.

Dwelling so much that I felt the stupid smile sneaking onto my mouth. I pulled the pillow out from under my head and smothered my face with it, trying not to giggle.

The thought of Heath’s dimpled face made me giggle. I was certifiably crazy.

I was about to scold myself, tell myself what a senseless woman I was that I was in my dead husband’s teenage room, thinking of my old teenage
boyfriend
when I registered a low buzz coming from deep inside my purse. It pulsed once more after few moments of going unchecked. I’d gotten texts before, thousands of them, but my heart raced at this sound like it was unfamiliar and unknown.

“It could be anybody,” I actually said aloud.

I didn’t want it to be just anybody.

Five minutes lapsed and my willpower was no match for my curiosity.

I pinched my eyes shut while I dug my phone out and held it in my palm. When it pulsed another time, I threw it across the room, the grenade launched from me with force.

“Good grief, Mallory!” I trudged to where my phone landed on the carpet. It should’ve been cracked across the screen, but the rug cushioned its fall. “You are absolutely ridiculous, you know that, woman?”

Crouching, I folded my legs up underneath me and slid right down into the middle of Dylan’s room, staring at the words on my phone’s screen.

Heath: Hi.

And then a second text, longer than the first.

Heath: This is probably none of my business, but are you married, Mallory?