“No. No, I’m not the reason. He just doesn’t . . .”

He cuts me off. “Fuck it! I’m done.”

With a disgusted look he brushes by me and walks out.

“Xander, let me explain,” I call out but he just ignores me.

I watch him leave as well, then turn and close the door.

A memory suddenly flashes before my eyes—the first time I saw River’s gorgeous silhouette across the bar, his intense gaze, our instant connection. Is it gone?

Walking into the living room I pick up his guitar and strum my fingers along the strings. When I look at the glass table now broken into a thousand tiny pieces, I think, You were wrong, River, we are in pieces.

Chapter 20

Everlong

Faint morning light streams through the window as I slip off our bed and try to call him again. Standing over the nightstand I clutch the portable phone. My call goes directly to his voice mail but I don’t leave a message; I haven’t left any messages because I’m not sure what to say, what will make any of it better. I just think if we could sit down and talk reasonably, we could work it out. Or at least I hope we can.

As I hang up the phone I have an urgent need to find something that will bring me some comfort. I peer out the window, looking for the sign that’s blocked from my view by the heavy rain. I open the sliding doors and make my way down to the pool deck to get a little closer so I can catch a glimpse. Once I’m standing on the half wall that acts as our railing, I shade my eyes and I see a faint hint of the letter H. I spread my arms out and throw my head back. The rain pelts down on my face and I look into the heavens and ask—why are we falling apart?

I stay out in the rain until I’m shivering and my teeth are chattering. Making my way back into the house, I take off my wet clothes and slip on my bathrobe. Ben’s clothes are still lying in the same place I threw them last night when I stripped them off. Picking them up, I walk into the kitchen and throw them away. I can see why River hasn’t answered his phone; it’s sitting on the counter, its screen illuminated and beeping to indicate that he has messages. I feel some relief that at least he isn’t ignoring my calls.

On my way back to our bedroom, I stop in the music room and sit at the piano that River bought me for Christmas last year. I had told him that my dad had been teaching me to play before he died. Since then, River has taken that role on and I have perfected many songs, but I am most proud that I’ve mastered the one my dad was teaching me before tragedy stuck—“Lullabye” by Billy Joel. I sit at the piano for a long while, drawing my fingers across the keys and thinking about our happy times in this room before finally deciding to take a shower.

Standing under the hot water, I try to rid myself of the chills that don’t want to go away. When I finally get out, I start to get dressed and the phone rings. I dash for it, assuming it is River.

“Hello?”

“Dahl, it’s me. I need some help.”

“Ben? How did you get this number?”

“From Caleb. Why, are you not allowed to get calls?”

“What do you need, Ben?”

“I want to go check out one of the centers that have availability for Trent and make sure it’s not a shithole, but I can’t leave Trent alone.”

“Sure, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I say and hang up.

I throw on a pair of jeans, select one of my dad’s concert T-shirts, and put my boots on because I know River likes them.

I can’t find my phone, I have no idea where I left it yesterday morning in my haste to get to Trent. So I leave the house without a phone again, but this time I leave a note for River. I know he thinks I’m still upset with him and he’s obviously upset with me, but I want him to know how I feel.

River,

If I could have one wish, just one, then my wish would be you . . . to wake up with the feel of your breath near my neck, the warmth of your lips on mine, and the sound of your heart beating in sync with my heart.

You’re the one who turned my world around . . . made it right. You brought me back to life. I can’t imagine my life without you. I know this past week has been tough for both of us, but I love you more than words can say. I’d never do anything to hurt you and I know you’d never do anything to hurt me. Reach down deep into your soul, remember who I am, who we are, and I know you will have no doubts.

Just remember you’re my everything. I know we need to talk.

I love you more. I love you always!

I’m yours, Dahlia.

PS I hope you know which one is missing.

Once I finish and tuck it under his phone, I run to the bedroom and pull out the six guitar picks I gave him for Valentine’s Day. Placing them on top of the note, I leave all but one and place the one I selected inside my pocket.

I also need to tell him I’m going to Ben’s to keep an eye on Trent, so I take a Post-it from the drawer and write a quick note that I stick to the refrigerator before leaving.

***

I arrive in Laguna much faster than usual, so I pick up a few items at the grocery store that I know Trent likes and then go through the Starbucks drive-thru and get coffees.

When I get to the house, I step on the front porch and can’t help but think it seems so strange to knock, not just walk into the house that I lived in for so long. I lightly tap on the door, not wanting to wake Trent in case he’s sleeping. When there’s no answer, I open the door and peek my head inside. “Ben?”

There’s no response so I decide to step inside. I’ve just set the bags and coffees down in the kitchen and turned to open the refrigerator when he walks in. He’s shirtless, his hair is wet, and he’s trying to run a belt through the loops of his shorts. His other arm isn’t in the sling, it’s hanging limply by his side. He looks surprised. “Shit, you really did get here fast. I guess you were already awake.” Then with an impish grin he says, “What, doesn’t he have blackout shades?”

Quickly averting my eyes, I ignore his comment and push the coffee tray toward him. “I brought coffee.”

He steps right into me. “Am I making you nervous? You’ve seen me na**d a million times, Dahl.”

I turn my back to him and start unloading the groceries.

“Hey, you okay?”

With irritation setting in, I sigh. “Ben, I’m fine.”

I feel his hands on my h*ps and his mouth near my ear as he says, “No, you’re not fine. I know you better than that.”

I freeze, not expecting his touch. “Ben, don’t.”

Ignoring me, he rests his chin on my shoulder as he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into him. “I’m sorry, Dahl, I can’t help it. I miss you.”

For a split second I’m transported back to when we would go days without talking and this was always his way of apologizing. But when I feel his lips on my neck, I step away, and move to put the boxes of cereal in the cabinet.

“Come on, Dahlia—don’t you miss us?”

“Ben, how many times do I have to say this?—you can’t put your hands on me anytime you want anymore.”

“What we had was good. That doesn’t just go away.”

I turn to look at him. “It was good. But things are different now. I’m not in love with you anymore. I’m in love with River.”

His discomfort at the sound of River’s name is apparent, and his face contorts as he seems to ignore what I just said. He puts his palms out like he’s surrendering. “Look, I’m sorry. Old habits die hard,” he says as he takes one of the coffees from the trays.

I take a sip of my coffee and exhale the breath I didn’t even realize I was holding as relief washes through me. I’ve been afraid to really let him touch me for fear of what his touch would do to me, but now I’m more certain than ever—I just don’t have any romantic feelings left for him.

“I’m going to check on Trent. Could you put a shirt on?”

He nods his head as I walk past him and leave the kitchen. Needing a minute to myself, I stop in the hall bathroom. I close the door and look at myself in the mirror. I really look awful—my eyes are puffy with dark circles beneath them, my hair is a mess, and my face looks tearstained. I splash cold water on my cheeks and look back in the mirror—glad I finally told him.

When I come out, he’s waiting for me. Leaning against the wall with one hand shoved in his pocket and the other now back in the sling he says, “Okay, I’m outta here. I shouldn’t be too long, but if you need anything you can call Caleb.” Then he turns and leaves.

I check on Trent often, but he’s sleeping soundly.

Sitting on the couch, I look over to Ben’s desk and decide to call Aerie. I miss her and wonder how long she’ll be gone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Aerie.”

“Dahlia? Why are you in Laguna again?”

“Long story. How are you?”

“Feeling like my head is going to spin off. I think I’m just about ready to start looking for a new job.”

“What do you mean? You love your job.”

“Hmmm . . . not so much anymore. There is always so much to do and management never listens. I really wish you were here with me. While I’m conducting this interview, I also have to write a story about my uncle’s band’s rise and fall before his death.”

“Yeah, well, helping you probably would have been a better option.”

“A better option than what, Dahlia girl?”

I tell her about the party and what happened—about finding out that Bell was the girl Ben e-mailed years ago and that River knew about it, then I tell her about the fight River and I had. I also tell her about Ellie. And finally I tell her about Trent and where I am now.

Aerie sounds shocked. First she tells me how sorry she is about Trent. Then she says she can’t believe what I told her about Bell. We talk about how I feel knowing River’s sister is the girl he almost cheated on me with. Finally she tells me that River and I need to do a better job of communicating and once again I agree with her.

When I hang up, I walk over to the kitchen window looking out onto the flower garden. I fill a glass of water and stand there, just drinking it. I’m so lost in thought that I don’t even hear Ben come in the door. I turn around and he’s just standing there, leaning against the doorframe, staring at me. I jump and water splashes everywhere.

“Hi, I didn’t know you were back.” I’m trying to keep my edginess at bay by keeping my voice even.

He cocks his head to the side. Grinning at the water stains down the front of my shirt he stares at my chest. “Did you miss me?” he asks.

I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest, leaning back against the counter.

“You ready to spill it?”

I have had enough of his comments but for some reason I still ask, “Spill what?”

“Come on, Dahl, I know you. I know something’s going on. I can tell. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

Pointing to his arm in the sling I say, “You know very well what’s going on.”

He furrows his brow then grins. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Fuck you, Ben Covington!”

Standing up straighter he moves closer to me and cups my chin. “There’s the girl I know.”

I roll my eyes again; I’m not going to let him get to me. Walking past him, I start to head for the hallway, but he grabs me and pulls me back to him.

I jerk away, glaring at him. “Ben, touch me again and I’ll make sure you have no arms left to use.”

With that, I go to say goodbye to Trent—he’s asleep, or trying to sleep. He’s curled up in a ball, shivering. I only stay a minute because I can’t look anymore—the little boy I watched grow up is gone. God, how did I miss this?

When I walk back into the kitchen to get my keys, Ben is making some toast. “Want some?” he asks, and I remember those words from a different time and a different context.

I shake my head no.

“Well, let me know if you change your mind,” he says. Then he points to the hallway. “Sorry about that before. I really will try to keep my hands to myself, but I can’t make any promises.”

I nod and try not to laugh at his cockiness. Accepting that Ben will always be Ben, I get to the reason I came here to begin with. “What did you decide about Trent?”

“We’ll check him into a center for a twenty-eight-day program. He’ll learn the twelve steps, hate life, hate me and his mother, but hopefully come out with the ability to fight his addiction.”

His bleak assessment takes me aback. “He’s lucky he has you.”

“I don’t think he’ll see it that way.”

“He’ll come around. Speaking of coming around, did you call Serena yet?”

His demeanor, his attitude, they all shift gears and he seems somber, maybe even uncertain. “I’m not going to call her until tomorrow morning. She thinks he’s at his dad’s so she’s not worried. By then I hope the fevers and chills have subsided.”

“Okay, Ben.” He’s right, Trent looks terrible and I’d hate for Serena to see him like that. Knowing there’s nothing else I can do, I reach for my keys and head out the doorway. “Alright, I’ll check in with you later.”

“See ya, Dahl, and thanks,” he calls after me.

I turn to face him before I say, “Ben, I am really glad you’re alive.”

“Thanks, Dahl. That means a lot. And I really am glad you’re happy,” he calls.

I smile at him and our eyes meet, but he quickly averts his gaze. Then I leave the house, probably for the last time.