Page 14 of Distant Shores (Stapled Magnolias #2)

IRELAND

M y phone beeped with my new reminder for my midday visit with Dad, and I dismissed it.

I’d already been here for hours, packing his things and playing Jenga as I loaded them onto the old-timey brass luggage cart Live Oak had magicked to the apartment during Dad’s nap.

After several trips to the third floor with it, the only things left in his old apartment were my duffel bag, the picture frame from Gil, and my toiletry bag—all stuffed into the hallway closet—as well as Dad’s art supplies.

That’d be a trip on its own.

Director Links had told us that Mr. Smith wouldn’t move in until tomorrow, so at least I had one more night with somewhere to sleep.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t Dad’s new apartment and roommate or my lack of either that circled my mind as I worked.

It was the greenhouse. A job. Good change.

I nearly smiled as I finished this round of unloading into the new apartment and then plopped down onto the cart in the hallway.

For probably the tenth time in the past hour, I pulled out my phone and refreshed my email app, hoping to see an email from Ari regarding next steps. My disappointment was undeniable when no new emails popped up.

Crossing my legs, I got comfortable on the cart and opened a blank text message to Liem. Maybe it was time to make good on accepting, in a small way, his overtures of friendship.

The blank message stared back at me for several long moments, and I huffed out loud.

Oh, fuck it. I was taking this way too seriously.

Hey. Is your aunt feeling better?

The message was marked as delivered moments later, right as my phone buzzed with a notification from my email app.

I straightened with enough force that the cart rolled backward, and I laughed at myself as I righted it. I swiped my thumb on the email notification in the process, opening the new email.

Good afternoon, Team Live Oak

I read the first line and sighed. Dammit. It wasn’t from Ari.

These kinds of emails—the ones that went out to Live Oak staff and contractors—usually sorted themselves into my “work” folder, but for some reason, this one hadn’t. Curious, I leaned back against the brass bars and kept reading.

It is with heavy hearts that we inform you of the sudden passing of ? —

My fingers slackened, and I nearly dropped my phone, only catching it at the last minute and hitting the side button and locking the screen in the process. Sweat broke out mercilessly on my heated skin as I moved my gaze back to the screen.

Forcing my spine straight, I unlocked my phone.

The email was still open, and this time, my gaze zeroed in on the two-word subject line.

Gilbert Thames.

No.

No.

That wasn’t so uncommon a name, and this was a big place with many?—

No. It said volunteer. Not resident. Not employee.

And I wasn’t prone to optimistic delusion.

The two horrible words disappeared, replaced by another two as my phone rang. The sound was so loud and absolutely silent at once. Like being underwater as a wave crashed overhead.

Liem Lott .

Liem was calling me.

But why?

I stood up abruptly, unsteadily, as I tapped the green button and held the phone to my ear, having no idea if I’d even made a noise as I did.

“Ireland?” a deep voice that did not belong to Liem asked.

“This is she,” I answered automatically. Stiffly.

A heavy sigh sounded on the other side of the phone, followed by some murmuring. I couldn’t pick out all the other voices, but I knew in my bones one of them was Liem.

“Who…,” I started, then stopped, unsure of what I meant to ask. Of what I actually wanted or needed to know. Was ready to know. “Who is this? ”

A ragged inhale, and then that same voice responded. “This is Cody. I’m Liem’s….” He trailed off, and there was a brief hesitation before he continued with “I’m Liem’s.”

Cody.

The name rang a bell, but as my entire body—my soul—was vibrating out of tune with the world, there was no making sense of it. Of anything.

“I’m sorry to be the one telling you this,” Cody’s deep voice continued, “Liem….” His voice softened and lowered even more. “Liem isn’t up for it right now, but he wanted you to hear it from him. From us. Gil passed away last night.”

The vibrating turned from a rusty church bell to skull-shredding feedback.

“Wh—” I started but then pressed my lips together. My eyes cleared as my gaze moved from staring into the middle distance at nothing to looking out the large window that overlooked the parking lot.

Cody said nothing, or if he did, I didn’t hear it. Once the feedback finally gave way to thought, I cleared my throat.

“Thank you for, um….” I paused, keeping my gaze on a random bright blue car in the lot. “Thank you for telling me.”

It was toneless, but it was the correct thing to say. I thought.

Cody might’ve said something, a goodbye perhaps, but I wasn’t sure.

On autopilot, I returned my phone to my pocket.

The floor below me shifted, and I grabbed the luggage cart, bracing my weight against it.

My legs moved without my explicit instruction, and I pushed the cart back to the elevator.

Once inside, I stared at the buttons .

Where was I supposed to go? To do?

“Kid, if you cry, I’m going to take it back.”

Take it back.

Gil’s voice rang in my ears. Were those the last words he said to me?

Take this back. Please.

As I pressed the “2” button, he was there, if only in memory.

Adair.

“ Wanna push the button?”

Flannel. That smile, sharp canine, and chin divot.

My hands squeezed the cool brass of the cart as they started to shake. Or had they already been shaking?

Then the elevator doors opened, and I sniffed everything back, squaring my shoulders. The cart served as a shield as I walked mindlessly, aimlessly, down the hall with it.

I only stopped when I saw it. The bench.

“ Deep breath.”

I parked the cart by the bench, sucked in a lungful of recirculated air, and sat heavily on the gleaming wood.

I wouldn’t cry, but I needed to breathe. Breathe and try to remember the safety I’d felt mere hours ago in this exact spot.

Extending my leg in front of me, I pointed my toe and studied the bandages on my knees. My foot fell back to the floor, and I shook my head. It’d all been an illusion, the safety.

Nausea churned inside me. I shot to my feet and hurried to the nearest bathroom and hovered over the toilet while the self-closing door took an eon to actually close me inside. I’d thought I was seconds away from dry heaving, but my body couldn’t even do that. It couldn’t do anything .

Gil.

Liem.

Oh God, Ari.

I didn’t want to cry for them. I wanted to scream .

But most of all, I wanted to hide. To have somewhere to hide.

My phone beeped with an alarm, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

Whatever reminder that was, I didn’t want to face it, but maybe I needed it. I leaned against the heavy door, pushed my hair out of my face, and then pulled out my phone.

I didn’t know why I did, but I opened my text thread with Liem and the shitshow of a message I’d sent him last.

Shame and guilt had me sweating again, but with shaky fingers, I texted him the only thing I could.

I am so sorry.

There was nothing I could do for him and no reason for me to offer it.

Putting my phone back in my pocket, I gripped the sink and hung my head. I could let myself feel this pain with them. Quietly and without a single tear that didn’t belong to me.

Eventually, I splashed cold water on my face. The shock of it usually helped, but not this time. After a few more minutes, the numbness finally came, blanking my mind and tingling my limbs.

I had to get the rest of Dad’s stuff moved. Had to take another step.

When I left the bathroom, I rolled the cart back to his old apartment, sparing a glance out the window as I went.

The cart squeaked to a stop as I spotted him .

Adair.

Adair heading for that same Jeep from yesterday. His flannel was missing, leaving him in a baggy T-shirt and jeans.

He tossed his crutch into the back and got into the driver’s seat.

And then he was gone.

Of all the things, that was what finally made my insides crumble to ash.