I start walking, almost forgetting her as I’m lost in memories of driving her home, parking on this road to get in one more kiss, one more touch, before returning her to her uncle’s place.
“Is Leo still here?” My voice rises again, excited by the potential of seeing the old man.
“Gavin,” Britton calls out behind me, and I turn to find her walking toward me, holding her bike. “Leo died a few years back.”
Shit. Shit. It makes sense. He would be old, but he was so young at heart.
“And Gertie?” Leo had a forever girl, as he called her. A woman who owned his heart, but they never married. They lived together—scandalously in sin—Leo would whisper as he told me because they never made it legal.
She wouldn’t answer my question, Leo would tease of the various marriage proposals he claimed to make her. According to Gertie, he only asked once and then never again. I always wondered if she was waiting on him to pop the question a second time. Leo hadn’t missed his chance, but Gertie certainly did, and it never made sense. They were the happiest, wackiest couple I knew, and they were perfect for one another.
“She went just after Gee was born.”
“Jesus, I’m so sorry, Brit. I know how important they both were to you.” Britton loved her great-uncle like the grandfather she never had. He was a substitute for her father as they were not close, and even less so after her parents’ divorce when she was sixteen.
Her forehead furrows, and she looks past my shoulders. “It was a long time ago.” Sadness fills her voice, and I remember her husband is also gone. She must be so alone. Or not. Why would she be alone? She’s still young and beautiful and full of life. She must have a boyfriend.
“Do you live in his place?” Britton doesn’t answer, chewing at her lip, and I have my answer. “Of course, you do. You loved that place.”
I laugh, almost giddy at the prospect of her living in that old house. Reaching for Britton’s handlebars, I take the bike from her and begin pushing it down the road like we’re teenagers on a date, and I’m walking her home. The thought reminds me of so many evenings, also from a long time ago.
“What happened?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” she questions, walking quietly beside me.
“With everything? What happened to Leo, and Gertie, and your husband, and the house? Tell me everything.”
“Why?” Her question surprises me.
“I want to know.”
“Why?” she asks again, eyes shifting to me before focusing forward as we walk.
Because it’s been too long.
Because I never stopped thinking about you.
Because I always cared about you, cared maybe more than I could admit.
That morning, when Britton was gone, it hurt to find the room empty. I told myself it was for the best. I was at the height of my career, and I couldn’t do commitments, but I’d always been a little sorry she went missing from my life.
“I just want to know,” I say, noting how standoffish she is. “What am I missing here? Do you have a boyfriend? A man in your life?” Still holding her bike, I stop walking and peer over at her. Am I treading where I shouldn’t?
“What are you missing?” Britton scoffs, crossing her arms to glare back at me. “I’d say thirteen years.”
It’s getting darker, and she’s surrounded by the shadowy light of an ending day. She’s wearing short shorts again and a fitted tee. Her hair is in a ponytail, making her look as young as she once was, and I want to tug that rope of hair and suck at her neck. The bike separates us, and I don’t like the distance. We’re alone on a secluded road, and my mouth waters to kiss hers, reminding me of what she tastes like and reminding her of how we once were.
“You walked out on me,” I remind her, hoping to tease, but finding the second I open the wound, I’m raw myself.
“Me?” she huffs, pointing at herself. “You left me, Gavin. Not a word. Not a phone number. Nothing.”
“What?” I glare at her. “That’s not what happened.” My thoughts jump to that weekend and how we were naked as much as we could be.
“I woke up alone in that bed. Alone,” she says, a cutting edge to her tone.
“I went to get us coffee, and when I came back, you were gone.”
“That was a long coffee,” she says sarcastically.
We glare at one another.
“Jesus, Brit. I thought you ditched me.”
“Well, you ditched me,” she snarks. “You didn’t even leave a note.”
“It wasn’t like that.” I was impulsive, like propositioning her to spend the weekend with me and suggesting all the things we did. It was like destiny put her walking down that street or something freaky like that. I almost passed her but did a double take. When she agreed to have a drink with me, telling me she had just come from a visit with Leo, I couldn’t let her go. I asked her to spend the weekend with me. I wanted to get lost in her for a few days. Her smile. Her laughter. Her body.
“I needed coffee, and the hotel was out. I went to the café next door, thinking it’d be quick enough, and I’d surprise you with something sweet.” I’d also bought a package of red licorice at the candy counter of the hotel, hoping to remind her of when we were young.
“Why didn’t you leave a note?” I accuse.
“I didn’t know that was the protocol.”
Ouch. She’d teased me I was a player and not just on the ballfield. Crossing states off my list, I’d been the one loving and leaving women as I traveled with the team, but Britton was different. I wanted to assure her she was all I had on my mind. Her words are a reminder she hadn’t ever done all that we did that weekend, or even that summer back when we were teens. She wasn’t like the baseball bunnies. She was special to me, more important than she might ever have realized, perhaps because so many of her firsts were with me.
“Look, it doesn’t matter now. That was a long time ago.” She shrugs and reaches for her bike, placing her hands on the handlebars while snapping at me. “I got it.”
“No, I’ve got it,” I say with determination. I’m not letting go, not this time. I’m pissed that I misread a situation some thirteen years ago, and we’ve both been living with this misunderstanding. We’ve both been living with this loss, but I’m not living without her again.
“You still didn’t answer my question about a man in your life,” I tease, hoping to restore us a little to lighter topics, but selfishly I don’t want there to be someone.
Britton thinks on it a second, narrowing her eyes at the road ahead. “Actually, I do.”
Double ouch, but I nod to accept it. Of course, she has a man in her life, and I’m jealous all over again. Whoever he is, he better be good to her.
Take 7
Scene: The Uncle’s House
[Britton]
Do I have a man in my life? Is he kidding me?
As Gavin continues to walk me home, we remain silent, each grappling with our own memories. I woke alone that morning, the bed empty, the room bare. The box of condoms was gone. His things were missing. Silently, I dressed in my two-day-old dress and did the walk of shame down the back stairs of the hotel in Traverse City. It wasn’t my proudest moment but certainly not my worst. We’d gone into the weekend with no promises, just a proposition.