One to Love (One to Hold 4)

Still, I didn’t want our parting words to be cross. “Thanks, Doc,” I said with a nod.

“Don’t thank me. I only helped you see what was inside you. You had to take the first step.”

The first step.

“Right. Well, take it easy.” I shook Doc’s hand then put one foot in front of the other, slowly making my way to the waiting taxi.

Leaving this place wasn’t like graduating from high school or college. Everyone would look at me differently now. They would question everything, from my trustworthiness to my ability to handle stress. Most wouldn’t even want to be around me. The stigma would follow me wherever I went, and at twenty-six years old, that was going to be a long fucking time.

“Where to?” The cab driver’s voice was wary. Or maybe it was disgusted.

My faded jeans hung a little looser on me now. I reached into my

back pocket and pulled out the folded map I’d studied for the several days. My eyes had devoured the coastline, reading name after name, trying to decide which one felt right on my tongue.

I imagined living near the ocean would help. I could find a simple, low-stress job—maybe construction or maintenance—and if it all got to be too much again, I could go down to the water, practice the things Doc had taught me. Centering, breathing, green-light the emotions, name them, embrace them, let them go.

My mind had settled on Bayville. It was small and close to what used to be home. One thing about losing everything—it brought a definite sense of freedom.

“Hey!” The driver’s voice was sharp. “You with me? I ain’t got all day. Where to?”

My ice blue eyes flashed, and fear registered on the man’s face. I’d have to adjust to that as well, I guessed. “Bus station.”

Inside, the taxi smelled like old vinyl and stale cigarettes, and I wondered how many times this stocky, unshaven man in the dirty chambray shirt had driven from here to the Greyhound station. My pack was at my feet as I pulled the heavy metal door closed with a pop and a slam...

I jerked awake in my cot. Something slammed in the boat above me—crews working around the clock. Blinking into the darkness, I tried to get my bearings. It was just a dream.

Only it wasn’t a dream. It was a memory. Was it possible to dream memories?

Yes.

It was the first time I’d dreamed of anything that wasn’t Kenny. That painful thought sliced through my chest. Night after night I closed my eyes and I was in her arms. I’d touch her face, smooth back her dark violet hair, kiss her pale pink lips, hold her against my chest. I could hear her sigh as I sank into her warm depths, feel her legs wrapping around my waist, her fingers in my hair.

I wasn’t sure why I thought climbing into the belly of a ship and sailing to the middle of the ocean would help me forget her. Every morning I awoke to the searing pain of losing her all over again.

Tonight was different, though. Maybe because of the story Anders had told me. The string. I remembered studying that map, looking at every city and thinking about the names. Of all the places to choose, I chose the one that would bring me to her. Did I have any control at all?

Shaking my head, I rolled over in my bed. I didn’t believe in fate or Chinese legends. Yet, here I was, longing for her with every breath. I rubbed my forehead hard and tried to find a way through the pain.

In my mind, I heard Doc’s words. Without the darkness, you never see the stars.

Chapter 32: “But the fighter still remains.”

Kenny

Thanksgiving was four days away, and I’d promised my parents Lane would be with me for the annual Woods’ family gathering. My dad and I had never seen eye to eye, and I didn’t visit them as much as I should. But I tried to get Lane over to see them as often as made sense. It meant a lot to my mom.

Patrick and Derek had found Stuart and were with him in Montana. Something was wrong there, but I hadn’t asked for details. Once Lane and I left, Elaine would fly out to join them for the holiday—or for a conjugal visit, more likely. I knew Patrick.

Lane snuggled in my lap until he fell into a deep sleep. Elaine and I stayed up a bit longer watching the fire and sipping red wine.

She chuckled. “If you’d told me three years ago I’d be sitting by a fire sharing a glass of wine with the mother of my fiancé’s child, I would never have believed it.”

“I guess it is sort of an awkward arrangement.” I still wavered between feeling comfortable and feeling like I should apologize all the time when we were together. Still, I was so thankful Lane was here and not in New York with Aunt Laura. He would’ve been happy living with her, but our lives would be so different. I’d never see him.

“Oh, Kenny!” She sat up straighter, her eyes full of concern. “That’s not what I meant, but even you have to agree life can take some pretty unexpected twists.”

I couldn’t deny that. “Sometimes I feel like the twists are all I get from life. Or the screws.”