I didn’t look at the contents, I just took a deep, long swig. “Shit, tequila, really?”
He shrugged. “It’s all my mom had in the liquor cabinet. You’ll get used to it, Tanner.”
I handed it back to him. We passed it back and forth for a while in the silence. I didn’t talk to
him much, but he was the only one I’d have a conversation with these days.
“I’m getting out of here soon,” he said after a while. “I hate this town.”
“I love this town, but I’m leaving too.”
“Of course you love it. You’re like a king around here. I’m like a joker.”
“I’ve been dethroned in case you didn’t notice, Sampson.”
“I’ve noticed. I think we all have.”
“Good thing there’s two jokers in the pack because I think we might be a matching set.” He
didn’t laugh or even reply to it. He just handed me the brown bag again. “Where are you going?”
“Good ole Santa Fe. They have a pretty accommodating art community there. What about you,
Tex?”
I laughed. “Sylvie used to call me that.”
“I know.”
“If everyone had their way, I’d be going to a mental institution. Do you think I belong there?”
“Judge not,” he replied.
“I like that, Matt. Judge not,” I repeated, holding the bag up in a mock toast. “I’m going to State.
My grades just scraped the cut-off.” They had tanked since that night, but it was just enough to
squeeze by. The truth was, all my teachers felt sorry for me, because of my dad, my leg and Sylvie. I
would like to say that I was above that pity, but I wasn’t. It got me a few points on every test and
paper I turned in. “It’s all I can afford right now. It turns out they don’t give scholarships to gimps.”
“Cal, you have to get yourself together. I know you come out here and drink every night.”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing?”
“I thought if I came bearing gifts, you might be more receptive to my company. This isn’t a hobby
for me…or a habit like it is for you. She wouldn’t want this for you.”
“I love her. I can’t let her go.” I wasn’t sure what else to say.
“I know.”
“I never told her. Well, at least not until it was too late. I waited too long.”
“She knew, Cal. You didn’t have to say it. She was smart like that.”
“She was one in a billion, Sampson.”
“Yeah, so I think you should have more respect for her memory than sitting out here feeling sorry
for yourself.”
“What happened to judge not?”
“What would Sylvie say if she saw you like this?”
I chuckled, thinking of the choice words she’d have for me. “I don’t know, but I think she’d
swear and yell a lot. She never let me get away with too much.”
“Yeah, I won’t do that, but I know you’re better than this. She did too. Take care of yourself,
Cal, and stop being such a pussy.”
Matt walked off then, leaving me with the rest of the bottle. I replayed his words in my head, and
for some reason they made me laugh. Laugh like I hadn’t in years. I laughed so hard that I puked right
onto the turf below me. Then my stupid ass fell off the railing onto the turf. I lay there looking up at
the stars, searching for a falling one so I could make a wish. It didn’t matter. He was right. I was a
complete pussy. I poured the rest of the liquor out on my way out.
I turned upward once more before I exited the field. “I promise, I’ll find you, girl.”
Chapter Thirteen
Present day
I think I broke a record running the six miles back to my house. I was sweating like a pig, but
way too amped to be tired. Was I going crazy? I’d practically assaulted one of my students in a coffee
shop. I didn’t want to think about it. Or the fact that if she was Sylvie, she might run from me.
I jumped in the shower, letting the hot water scald my skin as I tried to desperately drown out the
conversation I’d just had. The anticipation of waiting for her was too great. I left the bathroom door
open in case there was a knock, but none came the whole hour I spent in the shower. As soon as I got
out though, the rapping on my door mimicked my heart rate. I ran to the door in nothing but my boxers.
It was the mailman with a package from my mother.
He regarded me curiously. “You must have been real anxious for this,” he replied, good-
naturedly. I tried not to scowl as I signed for it.
Fuck.
I waited another anxious hour for that knock, alternating my time between walking around my
apartment like a lunatic or doing one-armed push-ups until I collapsed. The third hour, I spent making
dinner, trying to get my mind off what a foolish thing I’d done. What if I was wrong? Although I’d
never been so forceful, I had asked other girls if I knew them only to be disappointed.
I decided to put it out of my mind. Either way, it had been three and a half hours since our talk.
She wasn’t coming. What if she was Sylvie? I knew there was danger surrounding her. Had I just
caused her to run farther away from me with my brute behavior?
It was then that I heard the timid knock on my door. My heart beat wildly and I swallowed hard,
opening it, praying it wasn’t another unwelcome visitor. She stood before me, a vision of an angel,
still grasping that bag of apples. Her eyes were swollen as if she’d been crying for a very long time
and her lips trembled like she wasn’t ready to stop.
“Hiya, Tex,” she greeted in a choked whisper.
I exhaled for what felt like an eternity. I’d been holding that breath in since I’d left her at the
coffee shop. Maybe even longer than that, like the night she left me.
“Get in here, girl,” I said, pulling her into my apartment. She dropped the apples, embracing me.
They thudded to the floor with hard thunks, but I wasn’t about to pick them up. I leaned her against a
wall and stared at her, allowing myself to look at the face I’d missed so much over these years. “I
knew it was you. Everyone told me I was crazy, but I knew if you weren’t on this earth, I would have
felt that.”
“I’m so sorry, Cal.” Hearing her say my name made it clear why Sophie Becker never used it.
The way she said it, drawing out the syllable slowly against those sumptuous lips, gave her away
immediately. All the anger instantly dissipated as I wrapped my arms around her. She let me, falling
into my body where she fit so nicely.
“I’m assuming you had your reasons. I want to hear all about that, but right now, I just need to
hold you. God, it’s so good to hold you, baby.”
She cried against me, and I suffered each whimper with her as it waved through her diminutive
frame. I buried my face in the crook of her neck, and breathed in her sweet scent. She placed her arms
around me and I couldn’t help myself. I slid my hands from her waist to her ass and lifted her. She
immediately crossed her legs over my hips, tightly locking those cowboy boots behind me. We
remained like that for several minutes, since it seemed neither of us had words for this reunion.
“Why are you crying, Sylvie? Isn’t this a good moment for you?”
“Yes, of course it is. I… I’ve been walking around the whole city with that stupid bag of apples
since we talked. I didn’t know what the right choice was.”
“Why was it a choice at all?”
“I’m going to tell you, but first can I try something?”
I lifted my head and stared into her tear-stained face. She smiled nervously.
I gave her a wide grin to put her at ease. “I wish you would.”
She moved her lips toward me, but I met her halfway. The gravity between us pulled our mouths
as if they were independent of the rest of us. We smashed into each other, desperate for the contact.
Her lips, soft and silky, chapped as I pressed my mouth against them. I slid my tongue across her lips
until she opened for me. I drew out her tongue and tasted her delicate sweetness. She moaned, sending
vibrations through my body. I had so many questions, but my physical longings prevented my mind
from forming any coherent thoughts. I wanted to take her against this wall right now. I wanted us to be
one.
“Cal, we have to stop,” she murmured, when I finally parted our lips to suck in some air.
“Why? You don’t want this? Because your body’s communicating a very different message,” I
whispered against her ear. I ran my tongue over it and sucked in her lobe. She shivered against me,
clutching me tighter. I knew she could feel my erection against her shorts. I only hoped I could hold
out long enough to make it satisfying for her. She did things to me that I had never experienced with
another girl. Dr Arnold had said that childhood memories were often misguided and inaccurate, but I
knew it wasn’t true. What I felt for Sylvie was no childhood crush. It was so much more.
“I want you, but—”
“We both need this. Hell, we deserve it. We can talk later,” I growled, planting kisses down her
neck.
“Damn it, Cal, I’m trying to tell you something.”
“What?” I demanded, not wanting to put her down.
“Something’s burning.”
“Fuck,” I groaned.
I didn’t release her. Instead, I carried her into the kitchen and set her on the counter next to the
stove.
“You didn’t have to carry me in here.”
“Do you think I’m ever going to let you out of my sight again?”
I almost removed the pan with my bare hands, but she had the wisdom to grab my arm before I
did. She held out the kitchen towel for me.
“I’m your Huckleberry,” she said.
I grinned so hard it hurt. “You sure are.”
I reached for the kitchen towel, removing the charred contents from the oven, setting it on top of
the stove.
“What was that?”
“Dinner.”
“Should I make us something?” she offered.
I turned off the oven and shifted over to her. I spread her legs and wedged my body into the
space between. “No, I’ll make us something, but let me just look at you for a minute.” I moved my
fingers through her hair. The soft, vanilla-scented strands felt like spun silk against my hand. “You’re
so beautiful, but then again, you always were.”
She looked down. “You’re the beautiful one. Mr six-foot, blond-haired, blue/gray-eyed
perfection. I can’t believe you’re a prof—sorry, a college instructor.”
I chuckled. “I’m six-two now, for your information.” The normalcy of our conversation instantly
put me at ease, like we were sixteen again. “I can’t believe you’re actually here with me in my house.
Even Momma and Mandy thought I’d gone nuts. I can’t wait to tell them.”
Her eyes got wide and she placed her hands on my shoulders, halting my gaze to stop its
lascivious descent across her heaving breasts. “You can’t tell them. We really need to talk, Tex.”
I swallowed, knowing she was right. There were so many questions and as much as I desired her
in this moment, I didn’t want any of them hindering what I was feeling physically or emotionally.
“Sandwiches okay?”
“Sure,” she replied, hopping off the counter.
She proceeded to the living room. I started making our meal, keeping a close eye on her through
the opening between the two rooms. She picked up the apples and set them on the dining room table,
piling them in the center.
“So, this is you?” she said, hooking her fingers through the loops on her shorts, taking in my
small apartment.
“Rent’s cheap,” I replied.
“This is exactly where I imagined you living.”
“Like I said, it’s a rental.”
“Yes, but you picked it. It’s old school like you.”
I laughed. “You think I’m old school? We’re the same age.”
“I think a better description is old soul. You have an old soul, Cal. I thought you’d live in a
place like this with architectural moldings, hard wood floors, crystal doorknobs and, of course, lots
and lots of bookshelves.” She gestured to the three floor-to-ceiling bookshelves I had made myself.
They’d had to be double stabilized because they were bursting with books.
“Yeah, I really need to get an e-reader.” I walked over to join her with the plates in my hand.
“I’m sorry, I should have offered to help.”
“Although I burned the chicken, I assure you my sandwich-making abilities are completely
intact.”
I gestured to the couch. I didn’t want the limitations of the dining room table to keep us
separated. She sat on one end, taking the plate from me. I sat on the other.
“Roast beef with spicy mustard. You still like that, right?” I asked her. It upset me that I had to
ask her. That I didn’t know the answer.
“It’s my favorite still. Thank you.”
“I’m your Huckleberry,” I responded, trying to smile. I realized I’d forgotten the drinks. “Milk or
juice?” I asked.
She looked hesitant. “Actually, I would really love some wine if you have any.”
I’m such an idiot.
We weren’t sixteen anymore. “I’m sorry. Guess I should have asked red or
white.”
“Either is fine. I usually drink milk or juice still, but I could use a glass of wine right now.”
I nodded, heading into the kitchen. I poured us both a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon and brought
the bottle with me.
I handed her a glass and sat beside her. “I don’t know where to start,” she said, chewing her