Page 22 of Meet Me in the Valley (Oakwood Valley #2)

Chapter Fourteen

TIA

You know how they say that smells and sounds can be deeply tied to memories?

It’s always amazed me how true that is, how every time I hear the whirr of coffee beans grinding and the decadent scent they give off once freshly ground, my memory always trails back to my mother’s kitchen. Back to the house I grew up in.

It’s Dad grinding his dark-roast beans every morning, often waking me before my alarm. And then my favorite part—the scent of coffee wafting through the gap under my door and Mom’s laugh at whatever stupid thing Dad said.

But my heart falters at the memory as I sit here in a corner booth at Sip & Savor with Audrey, my mind wandering back to her.

Followed by Mom’s laughter would be the sound of a door opening, tired footsteps dragging in the hallway outside my door, then the soft pattering of water hitting the shower floor.

Then the god awful singing. I mean, singing so bad, I’m sure the morning birds intentionally flew headfirst into the nearest window.

“What’s got you smiling over there?” Audrey prods, grinning against the lip of her oversized coffee mug.

“Nora.”

Saying her name alone is enough to make my heart race, sending blood rushing to my head—I focus intently on breathing to get through the lightheadedness.

Compartmentalizing has always been my thing. Sure, it may not be the healthiest way to deal with shit, but it helps me deal anyway. My mind has a near-perfect system. There’s a box for every decision, event, and emotion in my life.

But as of late, everything up in the noggin is complete goo. Sticky, slimy, unforgiving goo that’s seeped into every crevice of my brain, turning it into mush.

My compartments have been compromised, and I’m facing the unknown, unable to grab hold of the control console I’m supposed to navigate with ease.

It’s all gone to shit.

Where do I put my mom’s dying brain, Nora’s whereabouts, my career, and now Logan? Where do they all fit? I can’t find a way to sort it all, and it has me reeling.

The heat from my coffee mug burns around my palms, almost alarmingly hot. I should remove my hands. But instead, I squeeze around the mug tighter, welcoming the burn until it becomes too much to bear.

“You ready for tomorrow?” Audrey asks.

Am I? What a loaded question. It’s not just tomorrow. It’s the unknown of how my days in Vegas will unfold. Logan thought of everything—like buying me a one-way ticket because who knows how long I’ll stay, or how long it’ll take to convince her to come back home.

Then there’s the sobering thought that I could touch down in Vegas and have to turn right back around. My stomach churns, knowing this may not be worth it. Knowing I’ll have gone for nothing.

But I can’t think that way. I’m not ready, but I need to be.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Nora was always so cool—in that mysterious, quiet-type way. The way she dressed, the music she listened to,” Audrey muses, causing me to smile at the way she remembers my big sister.

“Remember when we would secretly raid her closet when she was at dance? And we’d constantly check the time so we could put everything back the way we found it.

” We both laugh at the memory. Full of nostalgia for a much simpler time in our lives.

Before everything got murky. For both of us.

“She was never annoyed with us, though. Even when she had to pick us up from the movies or the mall two towns over,” I say wistfully, getting lost in the memory and feeling hopeful for a chance to reconnect with Nora.

“Are you sure you want to do this alone?”

Yes. Maybe? I don’t know.

When I take too long to answer, Audrey thins her lips, slamming her palms on the table.

“Alright. That’s it. I’m coming with you.”

“Audrey. No. You have a new business to run, a fiancé who needs you—plus, I don’t even know when I’ll come back. It’s a one-way ticket, remember?”

She gives me a hard stare, her poor form of intimidation.

“Fine. Then have Logan go.”

My heart leaps, then falls, hitting the ground hard at the sound of his name.

“No.” I take a sip of my latte, humming as the hot liquid warms my belly. She looks at me with concern, but doesn’t treat me with kid gloves. She knows I say what I mean and I mean what I say.

Except when it came down to meaning what you say to the man who deserved the truth, you didn’t. You lied.

If I could slap my inner voice, I would. Ever since I left Logan at the airport, I haven’t been able to take a full breath. It’s like he took part of my oxygen away, storing it in a special case until I see him again. God, it hurts to breathe without him near.

We’ve barely spoken in days, a few dry text exchanges here and there, and I’m feeling the distance between us more than ever.

That’s my fault, I admit. I denied him for self preservation.

To protect us . So why is the weight of my deception so heavy?

Telling him the truth was probably the better option.

Too late.

I’ve made my bed, so time to lie in it.

I leave for Vegas tomorrow, thinking—hoping—I’d be strong enough to handle this. Being with Audrey has helped, though. The deep belly laughs and the ungodly amount of pinot grigio and popcorn we consumed over the last few days were exactly what I needed.

Sitting in the same booth we’ve occupied since high school, at our favorite coffee shop, nursing the same coffee orders helps dull the ache permeating in my chest. Me, a vanilla latte. Audrey, a caramel macchiato.

“Okay, well then, we need to unpack this.”

Oh, yippee.

The same night I dropped Logan off at the airport, Audrey and I were a bottle of wine down while sobbing watching The Notebook. Out of all the movies, we had to torture ourselves and watch that one.

I blame it on the combination of wine, sappy love stories, and watching a movie that highlights Alzheimers, but I poured out every blocked-up emotion about Logan I’ve been feeling since everything shifted on a platter for Audrey to process.

Before she could open her mouth and reveal to me what I didn’t want to hear, I shut her down quickly, feigning a stomach ache and burying my head into my pillow. Thankfully, she didn’t fight me hard on it then.

Now it’s three days later, and Audrey stares at me with determination in her eyes, instantly backing me into a corner like I’m a wounded animal.

“Fine,” I grumble, slumping deeper into the pleather booth. It squeaks under my discomfort.

“You and I weren’t really in each other’s lives when Logan came into yours,” she starts, and there’s a hint of sadness in her expression. She blinks once, twice, three times, then a soft smile curves her lips. “More like I wasn’t in your life. You tried, and I love you for it.”

My heart softens as I think back on the time when Audrey was living in New York with that horrible man for ten years. Having Logan during my time apart from Audrey eased the pain of missing her.

As much as it hurt me, she’s right. I did try to keep an open line of communication with her for years, only to be shut down.

At the time, I didn’t understand why she was pushing me away, even avoiding me altogether.

But, I didn’t give up on her. I knew deep down that Audrey would always be more than a best friend.

She is my soulmate, through and through.

Now that she’s made it out, I can see that she was just doing her best to survive.

With all of that drama behind us, I smile at my best friend and wait before I respond, watching her eyes close as she continues.

“I really saw it this past summer, you know? You and him? And then at our engagement party, the lake. Need I remind you of the bonfire?”

Everything she’s telling me rams into me with so much force. It’s impossible to ignore the wonderful, painful, and aching memories from this past weekend. My feelings unfurled, blooming into a dangerous temptation of wanting someone I shouldn’t.

I indulged, I savored, and I tested—knowing it would hurt.

And fuck, does it hurt.

“I’ve known you my whole life, and before you moved away, it was always me and you.”

That brings a smile to my face. Not a full, toothy smile, but a closed-mouth one as brief memories of Audrey and I as kids, barefoot and attached at the hip, flash in my head.

Audrey moves her mug to the side of the table and leans on her elbows in the open space in front of her. “He’s your best friend. And not like how I am. He’s … I don’t know, T. He’s more. The love you two have for each other … it’s magic. You move, he moves. It’s a beautiful thing to witness.”

I don’t notice I’m crying until I feel the wetness there on the edge of my jaw. I reach up to wipe my face, drawing in a shaky breath.

“I think I’m falling in love with him,” I confess in a whisper, saying the words out loud so I can test how they sound out in the open. When I search for peace in them, all I find is regret.

Probably because I said the words all wrong. It’s not falling in love—it’s fallen.

“Oh, babe,” Audrey coos.

“I hate that I’m so fucking scared. He looked so hurt when I denied it, Auds. And then he asked me to tell him to stay?—”

“He did?” Audrey asks incredulously. I roll my lips between my teeth, nodding a terse yes.

“Obviously, I told him to go. That the notion was ridiculous. We never confessed any feelings out loud, but the way he looked at me …” I trail off, my eyes fixating on a carving in the table, just on the corner, peeking out from under my mug.

My fingers move across the etched letters. A faded “K” and “&”.

“I see the way he looks at you, T. I think you two need to stop denying yourselves and just go for it.”

I cover the withered letters with my mug, giving Audrey my full attention. “It’s not that easy,” I scoff, but it sounds more like a laugh than anything.

Sure, falling in love with your guy best friend is always easy. Said no one ever.

“It can be, though. If you let it.”

It’s easy for Audrey to give me the go-after-your-love-and-don’t-look-back pep talk. She’s amped up on the subject of love. She’s about to marry the boy she’s been pining after since middle school. An epic love story that they make movies about.

I hear what she’s saying, really trying my hardest not to be a cynic. I’m losing patience in this conversation, and in no way is it her fault. I’m just not in a headspace to receive this.

Let me live in my delusion longer.

“I’m sorry, Auds. I know you’re trying to keep it real with me. There’s just so much happening right now. I’m all out of sorts. I don’t even know how to approach the Logan situation.”

She reaches across the table, holding my hands. I smile, remembering how earlier this year, she and I sat in this same booth—when she needed me. When she poured her heart out, and I held her hands, just like this.

“Don’t apologize. Ever. You call, I’ll come running. Whenever and whatever you need, you’ll always have me.”

Well, if that doesn’t make me a lucky girl.

“Will you just promise me one thing?” she asks, squeezing my hands tight.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, knowing Audrey’s masterful ability to challenge me on a subject I was done discussing fifteen seconds ago. Instead, I give her a smile dripping with sarcasm, which makes her laugh.

“Will you find it in you to be the brave, bad ass bitch I know you are and try? No regrets.”

She doesn’t have to say what she wants me to try for. More like who she wants me to try for.

Him.

I’m surprised at how easily the answer comes. Maybe it’s all the consistent badgering from Audrey—surely calculated. Sneaky. Maybe coming home has changed me in ways I didn’t even realize until now. Maybe it’s because I miss him so much I feel lost.

Is he thinking about me?

Does he miss me, too?

If I try, will he deny me because I hurt him?

I have to believe it’s not too late. I’ll ignore the revolving door of women he has on call, putting enough faith in our connection and friendship that I can be enough for him.

The doubt from before doesn’t sting as much, but it’s there, lingering.

But I can be stronger. I can overcome it. I will overcome it.

Like Audrey said, I’m a brave, bad ass bitch.

With my whole chest and heart, I give Audrey the most honest answer I can muster. The most important truth I’m done lying about.

“I’ll try. No regrets.”