“I’m going to bed. I’m starting to get the spins, which means imminent vomiting. So I should probably go lie down before I pin-stripe you with my puke.” I made a face and nodded.

“Go then,” I urged her.

“Are you okay? You’re not going to go running out in the middle of the night are you?” Nadine leveled me with a hard stare.

“No, you’re right. I should sleep tonight. I’ll leave first thing.”

“Okay, well, goodnight. And tomorrow is a new day with your whole life ahead of you.” Nadine grinned.

“When did you start writing Hallmark cards?” I laughed. She stuck her tongue out at me, and went back to her room, closing the door.

I turned off the lamp and sat down on my makeshift bed on the couch. I didn’t want to call Flynn because he was probably asleep.

So I texted him.

A simple message that said everything. I just hoped it wasn’t too late.

I’m coming home.

Chapter Twenty-four

-Ellie-

There were times when I found myself driving the familiar road out to the Hendrick’s old house.

I would stop my car and get out and walk into the woods that bordered the property.

But I would never go any farther. I wouldn’t let myself actually see the house that I had spent so much time in.

I would pick the Black-eyed Susans and I would twine the stems together like I had done so many times before.

Then I’d leave the safety of the trees and go back to my car. I’d drive to town and I would force myself to forget all over again.

But my heart never would.

Because a heart didn’t lie. It would always know the truth.

I could bury my feelings under a mountain of hate, but the warm glow of what I used to feel in that house, in those woods, with that boy, was still there.

Though the more that time separated me from that girl I had once been, the harder it was for me to remember.

Until the day came and the only thing that left was rage.

That was the legacy of our relationship.

Hate.

Antipathy.

Guilt and blame.

I had lost that girl just as I had lost the boy.

To the heat of fire and unrelenting time.

**

Flynn never texted me back.

He didn’t call either.

I got up early the next morning just as Nadine stirred out of bed. She had insisted on taking me out for breakfast.

“We haven’t even gotten to see the good stuff,” she playfully pouted.

“Another time, I’m sure,” I said.

She didn’t pester me with questions about when I was going to join her in the city because this time she knew the answer.

I belonged elsewhere.

The drive home was arduous and long. I stopped once for gas and to grab a sandwich, but otherwise I kept going.

I arrived back in Wellston a little after five in the evening.

Pulling up in front of the house I was hit by a wave of déjà vu.

Of another time I had come back to this place after a self-imposed separation. Flynn had welcomed me back into his life so easily back then.

Would he do the same now?

Or had I pushed him away one too many times?

I had made a huge mistake in taking off instead of trying to sort things out with him. I only hoped that I had finally learned my lesson.

I could hear Murphy barking inside but Flynn never came out. He didn’t come to the door. He didn’t look out the window. The door stayed closed.

I grabbed my bag and walked up the porch steps, the wood creaking underneath my feet. I opened the door slowly, not sure what to expect.

Murphy came bounding toward me, assaulting me with his exuberant form of doggie love.

“Hey buddy,” I cooed, scratching him behind the ear. I dropped my bag on the floor and put my keys on the kitchen counter.

I could hear the TV on in the living room but the house was otherwise quiet.

“Flynn?” I called out. I walked into the living room but it was empty.

He wasn’t there.

I frowned and went back to the bedroom and there was no sign of him.

It was then that I realized his car was gone.

I thought about calling him to let him know that I was back but then decided not to.

I took a shuddering breath and on a whim, reached for my guitar that sat, untouched on its stand in the corner of the room. I hadn’t been much in the mood to play it for a while but suddenly I felt the desire.

I ran my hand along the smooth wood of the neck, remembering how proud Flynn had been to give it to me. He had known that when I was a teenager I had enjoyed playing. So he had gotten me this gorgeous instrument so that I could continue doing something I loved.

I plucked the strings, turning the tuning pegs until I could produce a pleasant sound. I hummed under my breath and started strumming a melody I hadn’t played in years.

A song about first love and heartache. I sang under my breath in time to the music.

When I was finished I sensed I was no longer alone in the room.

I looked up to see Flynn standing in the doorway watching me.

“You haven’t played your guitar in a long time,” he said.

I let my fingers drift along the strings. “I haven’t really felt like playing,” I said, feeling suddenly unsure of what to say to him now that our moment was here. I had rehearsed my words a thousand times over on the car ride home but now I was rendered speechless.

There would be a lot of I’m sorrys and I suck monkey balls. I thought I’d throw in an I’m not worthy for good measure, though I figured the Wayne’s World reference would be lost on him. It was worth a shot.