“How else could you mean it?” Is this my fault, somehow? When I got the call from Paige, barely able to get all the words out before she burst into terrified tears, I thought my heart was going to pound out of my chest. I couldn’t get here fast enough, the guilt of not being here to protect them both was enough to damn near paralyze me. Thank fuck for Sam keeping a cool head and driving us back here like a bat out of hell. The truck wasn’t even in park when I jumped out and was faced with the worst decision of my life. Find Paige or help Lou. My heart split in two.
The first thing I saw was Lou deliver a hard right hook to that fucker’s face. I saw the blood, second. Her blood. My fists balledup, but again, Sam jumped in. Telling me he had it and to go find Paige.
Maybe he knew that I’d have ended up in jail if I’d gotten my hands on the man. It’s hard to weigh the potential consequences of your actions when you’re seeing nothing but red rage.
But what if she’s holding that decision against me? What if, once again, I don’t measure up to the expectations of the woman in my life. I didn’t save her. I couldn’t.
“Did I fuck up?” Four words that float my biggest insecurities in the air between us.
“No, Grady. No,” she says, finally seeing me. “Here in Stowaway, I’m Lou. The survivor who found space to heal in the most down-to-earth place she could find. Away from here, I’m Louisa Moreno. Supermodel, victim, extravagant, and fabulous. I need to figure out how to be both.”
“You can’t do that here,” I repeat, but without question, this time. If I’ve learned anything about this woman, it’s that she can be as stubborn as me when her mind is made up. I hate that she’s doing this. I don’t understand it, but I can’t stop her. I don’t believe her, though, either. “There’s more to it, isn’t there?”
“I heard you on the phone,” she says, her lip trembling slightly as she looks off into the distance, toward the property she’s put an offer on. “You haven’t told me what’s going on, but I know you were close to getting custody. She saved my life, and I may have ruined yours.”
“Lou.” She looks at me, her name still on my lips, expectation in her eyes. A heavy cloud of sadness blankets us. I can’t fix her. She has to do that herself. “He did this, not you.”
“He wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” she says.
I can’t deny it, it’s true. I’d never blame her, though. Nothing about this is her fault. She knows that. In the same way I know that Brenda’s cheating wasn’t my fault.
Still, we carry the burden.
I hate that I have to let her go. I hate that I have to trust she’ll come back. My heart really did splinter. Lou now carries half of it with her.
Lifting her suitcase from her, I load it into her truck. Then, I shove my hands deep into my jean pockets so that I don’t hold her so tight she can’t leave.
“You’ll let me know you get there safely?”
“I will,” she says, my pain reflected in the tear that spills from her eye. She’s cried so much since she’s been here. A tear for every star in the sky. I hope to never see another shoot across her cheek.
“I love you, Lou Moreno,” I say, hoping the words tattoo onto her skin so she’ll never forget. Me. Stowaway. Or the dreams we’ve been building here.
If I never see her again, I hope she remembers.
Twenty-Six
Lou
“I dwell in possibility.”
Emily Dickinson
My drive was horrible, not because of traffic or weather. I made great time from Stowaway to my hotel in Portland. Jules was a little upset when I told her I wouldn’t be staying with her. If I’m going to stand on my own two feet, I can’t do that while sleeping in her tiny guest room.
The room is nice. Nothing lavish, but well appointed. I chose an older hotel that is rumored to be haunted. They can’t be scarier than my own ghosts.
The staff at the front desk looked horrified and pitying at me when I checked in. My chin managed not to wobble.
My drive was horrible, because, the entire time, Grady’s sad frown was at the forefront of my mind. Because he doesn’t understand but let me go without a fight, anyhow. I don’t fully understand myself. That’s why I needed to leave. To understand myself.
I lost Louisa in Los Angeles. I found Lou in Stowaway. But I can’t live two lives. I can’t be one woman without the other.
My drive was horrible, mostly because Grady’s chance to get Paige back might be lost. On account of the heavy-as-fuck baggage I packed with me to the house next door. If he doesn’t get primary custody because of me, I don’t know how I’ll ever forgive myself. The idea weighs on my heart so much it feels like it’s in my bowels.
Leaving them is hard. Staying in my state of mind would be harder. I need help, not the kind Grady can give me. Love doesn’t conquer all. Therapy would help. I called Micah, last night; he’s finding me a psychologist. Someone to help me sort through my thoughts. I should have done it sooner. When I first got to Stowaway. Shit, when I first left home at eighteen.
Better late than never.
