Page 16 of Salvation (Clover-Hills #1)

Wesley

I hate it. The sounds, the amount of people, the smell. New York City is the last place on earth I’d ever want to be. But here I am.

I didn’t tell anyone I was coming, only let it slip to Harper that I’d be gone maybe a day or two so that she could hold down the bar. She didn’t question me, only gave me a weird, long stare that had me fumbling to explain it was a ‘business adventure.’ It couldn’t have been more of a lie.

I’m here because I just had to see her. Just once.

I had asked Elise for her address, with the front of wanting to send her a letter.

The truth is, I only ever planned on this.

I now walk down the street her apartment is supposedly on, squeezing past the large crowds and ignoring the occasional man or woman trying to get me to stop and buy some useless knick knack.

I abruptly halt when I see a mop of blonde curls walk into the open doors of a lavish restaurant.

My heart skips, and my pause causes someone to barrel into me from behind, spitting out a string of curses that would turn even my mother beet-red.

I mumble an apology but don’t let my eyes leave her.

I know it’s her. I could spot her a mile away, an ocean away.

I start moving again, now much more eager to catch up to her before she disappears.

I reach the end of the building, where the windows to the restaurant begin.

I lose her as she moves through the building but catch her again through the shiny, tall glass as a man, both tall and lanky, dressed in a fitted suit that no doubt costs more than my house, stands to greet her. She smiles as he leans in to kiss her.

The excitement I felt, the adrenaline of getting to see her, just speaking to her at least once, is easily replaced with a sharp sting as she embraces another man.

She looks…happy. Not just happy, but euphoric.

The city around me slows, reality slipping into a blur.

I take one more look at her, allowing myself to selfishly soak her in from just a few hundred feet away while she’s oblivious.

Her long, blonde hair frames her soft, heart-shaped face.

Her radiant honey-brown eyes and infectious smile.

She’s as beautiful as I remember. Yet somehow, nothing like the girl I knew.

At that moment, I turned back onto the busy street. I let her go. Let her fingers that have so delicately wrapped around my heart disappear. I let go of the idea that she’s ever coming back. I don’t even peer over my shoulder as I get right back on the very bus that brought me here.

***

I blink as I take another sip of my beer, irritated at the never-ending reminder of how my visit to New York City went just a little over a year ago.

I knew the old woman who lived next door well enough and was devastated to hear of her passing.

She was a nice lady, kept to herself, and had one hell of a sense of humor.

We sometimes had coffee on my front porch, or I’d help her with something around the house when she asked.

And I always did, even if I had to show up late to the bar to do so.

I think I saw myself in her. My future self, that is.

Old and alone. Nobody to share a home with.

No one to call home. Content with the life she lived.

And now, Blake is living there.

Blake.

The one person I want to keep as far away from as possible. Having her back in town was hard enough to grasp. But having her a few hundred feet away every single day?

If I had known what she was doing when I ran into her the other day, I would have done everything in my power to talk her out of it.

I mean, the woman said she didn’t know if she was staying, yet she still went off and bought a house?

It’s too much. Too complicated. I want to be pissed but I’m also so curious.

The idea of being so close to her when I can’t even decide how to feel about her being here makes my skin crawl.

Does she not remember what it was like when she left?

I had lost my father the year prior, and yes, I pulled myself away and struggled just as any teenage boy would.

When she first left, I blamed myself. I thought maybe I had been a bad friend, and given her the impression I no longer wanted anything to do with her.

But over the years, I’ve learned there is no one else to blame but her .

Did she hurt the way I hurt when I woke up and heard she was gone?

No explanation. No idea where she had taken off too.

Nobody in our lives seemed to bat an eye after a few days.

Everyone just moved on. She couldn’t have been hurting, not really, if she could leave so easily.

Does she truly not understand what it means?

Where that plot of land is? What it meant to us ?

Or is it all some sick ploy to get under my skin?

The questions have been never-ending since I’ve heard the news.

I want nothing more than to stomp back to her mother’s and demand answers, but I know I won’t get them.

She doesn’t owe me anything, and I don’t owe her anything.

Seeing her at Elise’s, emptying her guts over a toilet only made it worse.

Because the entire time, all I wanted to do was fall to my knees and make it stop.

I shouldn’t care if she’s sick. Shouldn’t care what the hell is happening to her, yet a part of me does. A part of me may always care. I hate it. I hate it because she doesn’t care.

Like I said. Fucking complicated.