Page 59 of When I Should’ve Stayed (Red Bridge #2)

Josie

Fall has officially fallen over Vermont. The trees are beautiful shades of vibrant oranges and reds, and every time a breeze blows through, they flit off the branches, twirling and twisting in the air until they find a landing spot on the ground.

It’s chilly outside but tolerable, and I pull my wool coat tighter around my chest as I walk out of Bennett’s—and now, Norah’s—front door with the rest of the crowd.

Today is Thanksgiving, and a few weeks ago, Norah found out the gender of her baby and decided it would be a grand idea to host Thanksgiving dinner combined with a gender reveal at Bennett’s and her house.

Now, on the day she found out what she was having, she called me immediately, and we cried like babies over it.

We even celebrated the next morning with pancakes at the diner, and I cried all over again when she told me what she and Bennett have decided to name their baby.

But I’ve sworn not to tell a single soul because she wanted to do something special for the rest of the town who have been on pins and needles waiting to find out.

And this whole Thanksgiving dinner plus gender reveal shindig has ended in my sister inviting what feels like half the town and Bennett grumbling all afternoon about there being too many fucking people in his house.

The vibe is a little too reminiscent of the last Thanksgiving I spent at Bennett’s house, when Breezy was the one who planned the whole soiree and Summer was just a precocious toddler who giggled her little butt off over the silly faces Sheriff Pete and Reverend Bob were making. The Thanksgiving Clay nearly died.

I try to push the memories down, fearful of where they’ll take me if I let myself remember everything. I try to focus on Norah and Bennett as they smile at each other in the middle of his yard as Breezy hands them each a gender reveal smoke bomb.

But when my eyes scan the people standing in front of me and catch sight of the back of Clay’s head, it all just comes rushing back to me in guttural, painful waves.

I press on my abdomen, willing the feeling of overwhelming emptiness to subside, but memories stab at me like a jagged knife until my lungs grow so tight that breathing feels impossible. I struggle to regain my composure, fight to focus on anything but the devasting things racing inside my head.

I force my gaze to my sister and take in the way she’s smiling at Bennett.

I take in how beautiful she looks with a little belly beneath her soft pink sweaterdress and brown leggings and find a way to join the countdown with the rest of the crowd as we count them off to the big reveal, calming myself down.

It’s hard, but all the time that’s passed does help—even only just a little.

“Three…! Two…!” everyone shouts. “One!”

Norah and Bennett try to release their smoke bombs, but nothing happens, and everyone kicks up into a bluster of chatter.

“What the hell?” Bennett grumbles, and Norah shakes her smoke bomb around erratically, trying to get the damn thing to go.

“Hold on!” Earl calls out, striding toward them. “Let me help you.”

But the poor man only gets a few feet from Norah before her smoke bomb explodes right into his face.

Gasps move through the crowd as pink smoke puffs out all around him, covering his face and his hair and his entire body, and Norah’s eyes go wide in shock. Bennett’s smoke bomb decides to join in on the fun and provides a second explosion all over poor Earl.

“Welp. Looks like it’s a girl!” Sheriff Pete shouts at the top of his lungs before bursting into a fit of laughter. “Pink looks good on you, Earl!”

Everyone else starts to laugh after that, including my sister and Bennett. Her giggles move her little preggo belly up and down as she cackles so hard she can barely get out her apology to Earl.

I laugh, but it’s hollow. Earl is the kind of man who always seems to find himself in these types of situations and it’s always funny, but it’s especially hard to find humor in anything on a day like today. A day that holds so much history, so much pain, so much tragedy.

A day I wish would’ve never happened.

A gentle hand squeezes my shoulder, and I glance back to find Clay standing there, right behind me. “Today’s always a tough day, isn’t it?”

I don’t respond, but I also don’t break eye contact. No one, and I mean no one, has the ability for empathy more than him.

But ever since Halloween night, when I lost my marbles and kissed him, it feels like Clay keeps managing to insert himself into my life, and I’m suspicious.

The man almost never drank coffee when we were together, but he’s shown up at CAFFEINE nearly every single day to order coffee. He’s been attending church every Sunday, even though he never used to before.

And while I never used to see him at the Fall Farmers Market, he’s been there the last two Saturdays.

I’m half expecting him to try to bait me into a conversation about the past, but I’m surprised when that’s not what he does at all. Instead, he just leans forward to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. “You don’t have to say anything,” he whispers. “I get it. It’s always a hard day for me too.”

He heads toward Norah and Bennett to offer them hugs of congratulations and I just stand there, trying to understand why I feel equal parts relieved and disappointed.

The last thing I would’ve wanted him to do was hound me with questions or make me recall memories I’ve already been fighting against so hard all day, but if there were one person in the whole world I would have wanted to talk about those hard things with, it’d be him.

But it’s for the best. The more we talk, the more tempted I am to tell him all the things I never told him.

The more tempted I am to tell him why I couldn’t stay.