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Look at her now … still chasing after him. No, wait … she was rushing to his side.
There was a difference … wasn’t there? There had to be.
The truck climbed a small rise, and there was the tree house in a huge majestic oak overlooking the river.
Her heart skipped a beat … okay, several beats.
At the same time, the tree house looked the same and very different. In her mind, she’d built up this image of the tree house as huge and forbidding and evil. For her it was right out of central casting for a tree house horror flick.
In real life, it was a small, ramshackle collection of wood scraps and driftwood. It was the type of tree house where children schemed to sail the seven seas and hunt for buried treasure. Or a place where a lonely boy could retreat after his father had too much to drink and was looking for a target to pound out his rage.
Putting the past out of her mind, she parked next to the oak and climbed out of the truck. She grabbed the paper sack of provisions. She had all of Heath’s favorites—Jalapeño Cheetos, Shiner Bock, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla ice cream, and celery. The fact that she knew Heath’s favorites so well was something she didn’t want to think about.
She picked up the flashlight her father kept in the door pocket and used her butt to shut the truck’s door.
With the sack in one hand and the flashlight in the other, she stood under the tree.
“Heath?” Before she climbed up using boards that he’d nailed to the tree when he was ten years old, she wanted to make sure he was actually up there.
The wood panel covering a window popped up, and Heath smiled down at her. “Wanna come up?”
He sounded way too cheerful to be sober.
“I guess you don’t need the six-pack of Shiner I brought.” She shone the flashlight on the bottom of the tree house. It hadn’t exactly been engineered. The structural integrity had come from the mind of a fifth grader. Gingerly, she stepped on the first step.
“The more booze the better. Bourbon before liquor, never been sicker—wait, I got that wrong—Bourbon before beer, all in the clear. Yep, bring on the beer.”
“How much have you had to drink?” The first step held her weight so she climbed to the next one.
“It’s not the amount I’ve had, it’s the amount I need.” Something whizzed by and shattered on a rock. It was a bottle. “I’m out. I should have bought two bottles. Does San Angelo have a liquor store that delivers?”
“I don’t think so.” She made her way up two more steps and used the flashlight to knock on the trapdoor. “Even if they did, I doubt they’d come all the way out here.”
The trapdoor opened, and Heath smiled down at her. “A flashlight. You’re so smart.”
At least Heath was a happy drunk.
She handed up the sack. “I brought you some comfort food.”
He took the sack and then reached down, clamped his hands under her arms, and pulled her up as if sh
e weighed nothing. The tree house was long enough that he could lay down flat, but too short for anyone over five-five to stand up.
Heath closed the hatch and dug through the sack. “I’m starving.”
“You’ve been up here the whole time?” She sat with her back against one of the walls and her legs crossed at the ankle.
“You brought Jalapeño Cheetos and celery?” He leaned over, cupped her face, and kissed her. “Thanks.”
He’d kissed her just like that right here all those years ago … only, he’d called her Harmony. That hurt was so deep that even tears weren’t possible. It still hurt.
The past was dead and gone, she reminded herself. It had nothing to do with now.
Maybe if she kept saying it over and over again, it would become the truth.
He broke off a stalk of celery, laid it on his jean-covered thigh, opened the Cheetos, selected one, placed it in the groove running down the back of the stalk, and bit in. “So good. I haven’t had celery and Cheetos since high school.” He held up the hem of his T-shirt. “You might not have noticed, but now I’m sort of a health nut. Have you seen my washboard abs?”
“As a matter of fact, I have. I believe I licked each one of them last night.” She couldn’t take it if all he wanted was sex … not here, and not now. He needed comfort, but she needed to forget. Those two things seemed mutually exclusive.
