On the Way to You Page 6

  He paused, shaking his head. He shook it over and over, not speaking for the longest time. When he finally did continue, his voice was softer, almost broken.

  “The storm was closing in, and I was still frantically trying to get the nest to stick, feathers flying everywhere from the exertion. And I was moving so slow, like I was under water. But then all of a sudden, I looked at the storm, at the clouds, at the lightning, and I realized I didn’t know why I was working so hard to build the nest. I had no one to build it for, no one who needed it, no one I was protecting. And I wasn’t scared of the storm.”

  I pulled my eyes from the ceiling, tilting my head just a little, enough to watch the slow rise and fall of his bare chest beside me. I was on top of the covers and he still rested under them, the comforter gathered at his hips. I just watched him breathe for a moment, wondering why he was telling me this, wondering what it all meant.

  “What happened next?”

  Emery let out a long breath. “The storm came, and it washed me away. I couldn’t control anything, and the rain was so hard, it flooded me out of my tree and down into a low valley, the rapids dark and treacherous. But I wasn’t scared anymore, I was only upset I spent so long trying to build that fucking nest.”

  The fingers playing with my ring stilled, and I folded my hands over my stomach. “That is a strange dream.”

  Emery nodded, rolling over until he faced me completely. He waited until I tilted my head a bit farther, until our eyes connected, and then I saw the sadness I’d heard in his voice before. His eyes, so gold the day before, were dull and tired, and they watched me with a plea for something, though I didn’t know what.

  “I don’t want to drive today,” he whispered. “I don’t want to move from this bed. Can we just… can we stay here. I’m so tired.” His eyes closed, the same two lines forming right above the bent ridge of his nose as he did. “I’m tired.”

  I swallowed. In that moment, the tall, confident man I’d met the day before reminded me more of my mother, helpless and sad. I wondered what had happened to him, what demons he battled in the dark of the night when no one else was around.

  “How about I drive today?” I whispered back.

  He opened his eyes slowly, watching me, pupils fluctuating in size as they flicked back and forth between my own. A hardness seemed to wash over them as we laid there, the vulnerability slipping away just as quickly as it had come. I’d offered to drive thinking it would help, that it would make him happy, but it was like I’d disappointed him, instead. Or, maybe it wasn’t me at all. Maybe it was the dream, or himself, or life, in general. But suddenly I felt like I was the nest, a waste of his time, of his energy.

  He didn’t speak, but I heard his voice anyway, asking me that same question he did the day before.

  What makes you happy?

  I wanted to know his answer, too.

  I wasn’t sure how long we laid there before he finally nodded, his eyes still tired as he did. I opened my mouth to speak again but he was already up, covers thrown back, and I was alone in his bed. The ridges of the lean muscles that lined his back were all I saw as he dipped inside the bathroom, a stranger yet again, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.

  We’d been on the road for three hours, and Emery hadn’t said a single word.

  The sun warmed our skin as we drove with the top down again, and this time I’d been smart enough to slather my shoulders and face with sunscreen. I was a little burnt from the day before, just a tinge of red on my otherwise tan skin, but enough to know it wouldn’t be pretty if I didn’t protect myself.

  Kalo laid behind my seat most of the drive, finding shade there, and the music blasted over the sound of the wind as it whipped through the car.

  I’d watched Emery from my peripheral most of the drive, glancing over every now and then to see if he’d look back at me. He never did. His eyes were either on the scenery as we passed through each town or on the pages of his journal as he wrote. Even when he wasn’t writing, the book sat in his lap, pages wide open. He held the pen in his hand the entire time, too, the cap hooked on the top of it, always at the ready.

  Emery wore a permanent scowl that day. Not just the easy lines between his brows, but a full-on, eyebrows pulled low and mouth in a thin line scowl. The edges of his clean jaw seemed even sharper, the sun and shadows battling for dominance when we passed under lazy Louisiana trees. I wanted to know what he was thinking, how he was feeling, but every attempt I’d made at a conversation had gone off about as well as a lighter in the rain.

  We stopped in Lake Charles long enough to grab new snacks and use the bathroom. Emery still didn’t speak, but he did take Kalo for a walk while I filled up our gas tank. I massaged my thigh gently and surveyed them together in the small patch of grass at the edge of the parking lot, Kalo hopping around in the grass with a goofy grin and tongue hanging out. Emery just stood and watched her, hands in his pockets, shoulders rounded.

  When we were back on the road, I propped the bag of beef jerky I’d just purchased in-between my legs, ripping the top of it open and digging inside for the first chunk just as I noticed the bridge coming up in the distance. It was a steep incline, pointing us toward Westlake, and I chewed on the teriyaki snack with a glance toward Emery.

  “Are there a lot of bridges where you live in Florida?” I asked, trying again to get some sort of conversation flowing. The awkward silence left between us from the morning was still hanging around, and I was ready to get rid of it.

  Emery didn’t answer, his eyes on the water as we started to ascend over the bridge.

  “I used to be terrified of them,” I continued, shredding another bite off a large piece of beef jerky. “My dad said when I was younger, I would literally scream at the top of my lungs anytime we crossed over one. I don’t really remember that, but, ironically enough, I got into a car accident on a bridge. And ever since then, I haven’t been afraid of them anymore.”

  Still nothing.

  “Have you ever been in a car accident?”

  He looked at me over his sunglasses then, brows gathered in a pinch of concern.

  “Oh,” I said, cheeks flushing. “I guess that’s probably not the best topic of conversation on a road trip, is it?”

  Emery looked at the road again, and I washed down the beef jerky with a drink from the large fountain soda I’d purchased at the gas station. Tapping my thumbs on the steering wheel, I racked my brain for what else to talk about.

  “I bet this bridge would be so fun on a bike. I mean, not the way up, of course. That would suck. Calves would be on fire. But look at this hill down,” I said as we dipped over the apex. “Could you imagine? You’d go so fast, just flying down with the wind in your face, wheels turning faster than you’ve ever seen them go before.”

  I paused, smiling.

  “Do you have a bike?”

  Emery sighed then, folding his hands over his journal with the pen still threaded through his fingers. He just looked at me, as if he was asking, “Are you done yet?”

  “I’m talking too much, huh?”

  He forced a smile, but not the encouraging kind. The kind that said, “Yes, you are.”

  I laughed. “Just another reason why I’ll be single forever. Add it to the list.”

  Emery had started turning his gaze back to the road, but he stopped then, facing me again.

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  He speaks, ladies and gentlemen.

  “What? Being single?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, it’s not exactly the best thing.”

  “Are you kidding?” He snapped his journal shut in his lap, sitting up a little straighter. “Being single is literally the best thing ever.”

  It wasn’t exactly the conversation I’d had in mind, but he was talking, so I took it. Dipping my hand into the beef jerky bag again, I pulled out another nugget, popping it in my mouth.

  “Oh, sure. It’s super fun not having someone to k
iss, or hold, or share good and bad times with. It would suck so bad to have someone who loved you during the holiday season, or someone who wanted to make you smile every day. Sounds awful.”

  Emery snorted. “See, you have it all wrong. Those things you just said, those fantasies, they’re just that. Your vision of what a relationship should or would be is warped from what it actually is.”

  “Mm,” I mused. “Sounds like the pessimistic view of a guy who’d rather have sex with no strings attached, to me.”

  “Well, yeah,” he agreed and I laughed, Kalo popping up from where she was hiding behind my seat at the sound. She seemed happy we were talking, too, and she hung her head between us. “That’s part of it. You’re telling me having mind-blowing sex with someone new, someone exciting, whenever you want doesn’t appeal to you?”

  My cheeks flushed a deeper shade and I cranked the dial on the air conditioning, giving the wind an extra boost. “I think I’d rather have someone consistent, someone who loved me when he touched me.”

  Emery stared at me long enough for me to glance his way and then regret that I did, because he was looking at me like he was a scientist and I was the gunk under the microscope.

  “You’re a virgin.”

  I scoffed, grabbing my drink and pulling the soda through the straw without breathing for a solid thirty seconds, shaking my head all the while.

  “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he added when I finally put the drink down, both hands finding the steering wheel. My knuckles turned white, and suddenly it was me who didn’t want to talk.

  “Just because I’ve never had sex before doesn’t mean I’m naive or stupid. I know how relationships work, and I know casual sex must have its perks but… I don’t know. I don’t want to be single forever.”

  “Well, you should be,” he said. “Maybe not forever, if you want kids or whatever, I get that. But you should spend time alone. Travel alone. Live alone. You should try new things, figure out if you like them not just because your friend or boyfriend likes them, but because you genuinely do. And you should have casual sex,” he added. “With as many people as you can before you settle down.”

  “That sounds unsafe.”

  “Condoms and birth control, my Little Penny.”

  I scrunched my nose at the reference to my nickname earned at the casino the night before. “You really don’t ever want to fall in love? You don’t want to know what it’s like to have someone care about you so much it literally drives them crazy, and they would do anything to make you happy, and you’d do the same for them?”

  “Do you know a single couple in your life who’s actually like that?” he probed, and Kalo tilted her head, as if she was ticking through people she knew just like I was. “Not in movies or books, but actual people. Your parents? Their relationship beautiful and wonderful?”

  I swallowed. “Hardly.”

  “Okay. What about your grandparents? Aunts, uncles? Teachers? Anyone in your town, any of your friends?”

  I thought through the short list, especially since I’d never had a relationship with my dad’s parents and my mom’s parents had both passed away when I was young. Lily’s parents had been happily married once, or so I thought, until they got divorced. They were still cordial with each other, but as her mom had put it, the love had died. Tammy left her ex because he hit her, and Ray was still in love with a woman who never loved him back.

  Emery seemed to watch my wheels turning, and though he didn’t smile, I felt the smugness rolling off of him from across the console.

  “Okay, well, maybe relationships aren’t supposed to be perfect. But you don’t believe in love at all? Like, not even a little bit?”

  He shrugged. “Love is real, of course. I know it exists. I’ve loved a lot of people.”

  I looked over at him then, a tinge of something touching the pit of my stomach. Jealousy, maybe? But I wasn’t sure if it was of him, that he’d been in love, or of those who’d been on the receiving end of his.

  “But most of it is chemical, Cooper. Lust and endorphins and all that crashing every logical thought for the first six months or so. Then reality sets in, and you realize you actually hate living with that person. Or they want you to change all of a sudden. The I love you just the way you are turns into I’d love you more if you got a stable job and a five-year plan.” Emery paused. “It’s almost impossible to find someone who really loves you — the real you — flaws and all. So no, I’m not sure I believe in a one true love or a soul mate. I do believe in loving as many people as you can, and experiencing them in all the ways you can before the chemistry runs out.”

  “Is that code for have a ton of sex?”

  “Among other things.”

  I chuckled, shaking my head. “So, is that your plan, then? Stay single forever?”

  Emery was quiet a long moment before he turned toward the road again, flipping his journal open. “Maybe. But forever isn’t always as long as you think it will be.”

  He started writing again, reaching forward for the volume dial and cranking it up until an old Tom Petty song filled the space between us. I guessed the conversation was over then, and Kalo licked my arm before settling back into her place behind my seat, leaving just my thoughts to entertain me as we drove toward the Texas border.

  We hit a bad storm right after we crossed the state line. I’d pulled over, getting the top up just before it started raining buckets. Traffic was awful, visibility was poor, and Emery and I were both so tense by the time we made it out that we were ready to stop for the day.

  So, even though it was less than six hours from where we’d started that morning, we called Houston home for the night, checking into a modest hotel in Midtown. I took Kalo for a long walk, fighting back yawns that started hitting me hard after the storm. When I made it back to our room, Emery was already buried under the covers.

  “I’m taking a nap. Want to grab dinner in a bit?”

  I finally let myself yawn, unhooking Kalo’s leash and digging through my bag for her food and water bowl. “A nap sounds perfect. Should I set an alarm?”

  “I’ve got one set for an hour and a half. The concierge said there’s a concert in the park nearby tonight and there are supposed to be a bunch of food trucks.”

  “That sounds fun.”

  Emery didn’t respond, rolling over toward the wall and pulling his comforter over his head.

  His soft snores were the only sound in the room until the air conditioning kicked on with a hum, and I flopped down onto the other bed, eyelids heavy. Kalo was clearly ready for a nap, too. She finished her food quickly, jumping up onto the foot of my bed and curling up into a ball of fluff before I’d even taken my shoes off. I reached for the lamp on the table between our beds but my hand froze in place when I noticed Emery’s journal laying in front of the phone.

  Don’t do it.

  But already my hand was reaching for it, my eyes flicking to where Emery was bundled under the sheets, the same leg sticking out like it had that morning.

  Slowly, and as quietly as I could, I slipped my hand under the worn leather, wrapping my fingers over the bind and pulling the journal to my lap. My breaths were slow motion, heart in my ears as I glanced at Emery again before opening to a page near the beginning.

  Dad thinks depression is a mental excuse, not a mental disorder.

  I listened to him and Mom fight about it the entire drive to therapy today. She was playing John Cougar Mellencamp’s Uh-huh album way too fucking loud, and they yelled over it instead of turning it down. I told them I didn’t want them driving me anyway, I’m twenty-three, for fuck’s sake, but Mom insisted on dropping me off on their way to lunch and picking me up after. Bonding time, or whatever.

  Dad and Mom never fight, not unless it’s about me.

  Mom is worried about me, and I hate that I upset her, but I’m not sure how not to.

  Honestly, I think my dad is right. I don’t have a reason to be depressed.

  We have money
, we always have. I went to a good school, a good college, all paid for. I have a job with my dad until the day I die — a good job, one I enjoy, one I excel at, one that will mean I’ll have a life of fortune just like he did. I’ve had plenty of friends throughout the years, even if I did drive them all away. Sex isn’t hard to find, neither is a girl to spend time with, if I want that sort of thing. I’m healthy. I’m not the most unfortunate looking dude, either.

  All signs point to normalcy.

  Most people would kill to have what I do. I think that’s why Dad grumbles under his breath when my therapy comes up, when Mom tries to make him recognize I have issues. I hate the word, too. Depression. It sounds so fucking stupid, and I feel stupid. I don’t want to go to therapy, or talk about my feelings, or question every fucking thread of my past looking for answers.

  What if there is no answer? What if I am just not a happy person. Period. The end.

  I think I could have gotten away with it, with just being a miserable prick, if I hadn’t pulled the stunt that I did. That woke everyone up, most of all Mom, and now I have to pay for it.

  I didn’t even want to do it. Maybe the day I tried, I did. It was a bad day. Today, right now, I know it was stupid.

  But today is a good day.

  Even if I did have to listen to Dad tell me how ungrateful I am for a solid twenty minutes.

  I think it’s because he grew up with Grams for a mom. She’s the only one who seems to get me, and it’s because she’s the same kind of crazy. People say I got my nose from her, and I guess I got this, too.

  I still hate writing in this thing. And think all of this is pointless. And for the record, I fucking hate John Cougar Mellencamp.

  My hand found my mouth, fingertips ice cold on the skin of my lips as I glanced up at Emery. He was still sleeping, his breaths even and steady, his mind at peace — at least I hoped. I didn’t know what he was dreaming, or if he even was at all.