Page 8 of The Only Road Back
JACK
I stand on the porch and stare at the empty driveway. The yard is too quiet, the world off-kilter. Even the breeze through the trees feels different.
Everything changed the moment she left.
Beth said she needed to return and face the mess she left behind. Sure, I understand, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
I drag a hand over my face. I should be working, not standing here like I lost something I never had.
I grab my truck keys and head to the garage. Henry’s already inside, propped against the workbench with a coffee. He clocks my mood and smirks.
“She’s gone, huh?”
I toss my keys on the counter. “Yeah.”
He lets out a low chuckle. “You look like someone ran over your dog.”
“Shut up.”
He takes a sip, eyeing me. “So. Now what?”
I frown, restless. “Now what?”
“Beth. You really going to let her walk out and act like all this never happened?”
I reach for a wrench, needing the weight in my palm. “She had to go. Her family, the wedding, everything.”
Henry shakes his head. “Man, that’s a cop-out.”
I glare at him. “She’s got unfinished business back home.”
“And you? You just going to hang out here, pretending she didn’t tilt your whole world sideways?”
My jaw tightens. “She needs time, Henry. She just left her fiancé.”
Henry sets his coffee down and holds my gaze. “Or maybe what she really needs is you.”
I have no answer. I turn toward the truck, anything to avoid where this conversation’s heading. I force myself to check the spark plugs. All I can think about is Beth.
I can almost hear her laughter around the garage, see the nervous way she tucked her hair behind her ear at breakfast. How she looked at me before she left—like she wanted me to come up with a reason for her to stay.
But I didn’t. I could have; maybe I should have, but I didn’t.
If Beth’s coming back, it has to be her choice. I won’t be another thing she runs from.
I drop the wrench and press my palms to my eyes.
Henry comes up behind me and claps me on the shoulder. “You’re an idiot, but at least you’re a noble one.”
“Appreciate it,” I mutter.
He grins. “Let’s get some work done before you mope a hole in the floor.”
We try to do just that. Sort of.
The day drags, and I keep checking my phone, wondering if Beth made it back, if her family tore into her, if Clark tried to talk his way out of what he did.
Finally, my phone buzzes. Beth: Made it back .
That’s all she says. I want to ask if she’s okay, if she needs me. I don’t.
Instead, I text: Miss you .
The dots appear, blinking. Then they vanish. No reply.
It’s heartbreaking.
By sunset, I give up pretending to work and go home. The house feels huge and hollow without her.
I grab a beer and sit outside as the sky fades to pink and orange. Somewhere down the street, a dog barks. Distant, lonely.
Henry’s truck crunches up the driveway. He climbs the steps and leans on the railing. I hand him a beer.
“You coming out tonight?” he asks.
I roll the bottle in my hands. “I don’t think so.”
He gives a big sigh. “Man, you’re whipped.”
I don’t bother denying it.
He studies me. “Look, I get it. But you sitting here all night won’t change a thing.”
I stare at the horizon. “I’m not in the mood.”
He huffs. “It’s your life.” He swigs his beer.
I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to say the stupid thing on my mind. Finally, it slips out. “I want what our parents have. Thirty-five years, and they still look at each other like nobody else exists. That’s what I want. And I thought I could have it with Beth.”
Henry goes quiet for a long moment. “Maybe you will.”
My throat is tight. I can’t respond.
The silence between us says everything I can’t.
Eventually, Henry sets his empty bottle on the railing. “Change your mind, you know where to find me.”
He heads down the steps, boots thudding against the porch.
“Yeah,” I say. “I know.”
The sky bleeds to deep blue, and I sit there until the stars come out, wishing for a sign, wishing Beth were here.