Follow Your Arrow Page 5

  “What are you doing, Leslie?” I question myself out loud, thankful I’m alone. I push off the old wood and get back to what I was doing. As I start to walk, the phone rings again. Giving the distraction a sigh, I answer. “Kingston Books & Things, how may I help you?”

  “Thanks, I’ll see you at six.” And then the line goes flat.

  I pull it away from my ear, looking down at the receiver like it has a monitor. Like it’s going to show me Justin’s face. Nope, he’s not there and the way he spoke gave me chills. It’s not a pleasant chill, nor a bad one. I can’t even describe it. It was about as flat as the dead line of silence that’s floating through the phone line now. I shake it off, hang up the phone, and lean against the counter for a moment. Just taking everything in. Chloe, the way he didn’t want to see her, the way the whole town just protected the almighty Justin Albott. Not to mention, how in some weird way I agreed to dinner with him. I can do this. I can pretend to play nice as we try to figure out how to be friends again.

  I closed the shop thirty minutes early in order to race upstairs and straighten up the place. I wasn’t changing as this is me and I’m not out to impress. Justin has seen me at my worst in the past, and there’s no way I’d ever compare to Chloe. However, my laundry needs to be hidden away from his prying eyes. There’s no reason I need to display my undies to a man from my past. Last night was laundry night. I might’ve gotten things washed and folded, they just didn’t make it to the dresser as sleep was more important at that moment. Actually, that’s a lie. It usually takes me a few days to put it away. I live alone. There’s not one person in this house that I have to impress or make happy other than myself. When I was married to Jack, that was a different story. Even with all his money, and the one housekeeper we had, he expected for me to keep the place clean. I’m talking about not one item out of sorts, one speck of dust, or one lonely pair of panties sitting out on the dresser. When I moved in here, the first month I didn’t pick up a thing. It wasn’t until Haddie made me realize that I was becoming a slob and living in filth that I snapped out of it. Yes, I was rebelling against the world, or the fake Jack that I had living in my head. Either way, laundry needs to be hidden before Justin gets here.

  Thirty minutes have passed as the knock on the upstairs door filters through the room. Taking a deep breath, I pad across the old wood floors to welcome my guest.

  “Hi,” I let out as I open the door noticing the brown bags in his hand. I take one from him and step aside as Justin enters.

  “Evening,” he slurs in my direction. “I hope you’re hungry,” he gloats as he heads toward my compact kitchen.

  “Starving actually. You know we could’ve just gone to Skipper’s or somewhere; you don’t have to cook for me.”

  “I know, but if I eat another item off that menu tonight, I might go crazy. Plus, I know you hate to cook and since I’m better at it, this is what we’re doing.”

  “I can cook,” I say a little louder than I anticipated.

  “Can you now? Is that why you eat most of your meals at the Inn?”

  “No, for your information… I eat there because my best friend owns the place, and I hate to cook for just me. This way I get company with a great meal.”

  “Okay, well get your ass in here and help. Show me those fine cooking skills that you have,” he says with a wink. I can’t help but laugh at him.

  “Move over,” I say, nudging him out of the way so I can unload the contents of the bags. I take in everything he brought over. “Let’s see what we have tonight,” I say, pulling out a pack of steaks, salad that’s already been bowled and prepared, red potatoes already cooked, with a side of asparagus. In the other bag is a six pack of beer. Turning toward him, I place a hand on my hip and ask, “So did you have time to cook before you came over or did a certain someone hook you up with all this?”

  “All we have to do is throw the steaks on the stove, and yes Haddie did the rest.”

  “I see, seems you left out a dinner guest with all this work.”

  “Nope, dinner for two friends only.”

  “Well, I can’t sear a steak. Pan’s over there, get to work,” I say pointing to the cabinet next to the stove. I move aside, grabbing the plates to set everything else up while Justin gets the steaks ready. It’s weird having him here; no, it’s weird having anyone else other than me or Haddie in my kitchen. The only other male presence that’s been here has been Jack when he tried to talk me into coming back to him, and Elliott when he helped move me in. I don’t make it a point to invite men here; hell, I don’t even meet them which means the picking is kind of slim when it comes to this area. I move out of the way, pulling out the barstool and taking a seat. I can’t help but lean forward, placing my chin in the palm of my hand to watch Justin. He’s so comfortable here, or really terrific at faking it. Is he faking this? Is he treating this as just another interview? Or is this the real Justin standing in my kitchen? How am I ever to know the difference between the two?

  “So, Chloe’s nice. How long you two been together?”

  “Chloe is anything but nice, and we aren’t together.”

  “Seems like she thinks otherwise. I mean, who travels across the country to see someone when they aren’t together?”

  “Leslie, Chloe is a friend of Christina’s, my agent, and she also thinks that I’m her future husband. We went on a few dates, might have had sex, and now she’s ready for me to drop to one knee.”

  “How can you ‘might have had sex’?” I air quote him.

  “Alright, we had sex, but that was it.”

  “I see, so you lead her along, and she wants more. Sounds like you,” I say, shifting on the stool. Justin turns to me, placing his hands down on the counter before me. Staring straight at me, he explains. “She might want more, but she’s not the one. Chloe was a muse for a great time, nothing more. I could never marry a person like that.” When he finishes his sentence, he pushes off and goes back to the stove to flip our steaks. I can’t fathom words for my response. I want to ask who the one is, but then I don’t want to know the answer to that question. It falls under the rule that some questions are better left alone.

  Lost in my own thoughts, I don’t realize that the steaks are done until my plate plops down in front of me.

  “You want a beer?” Justin asks as he holds one up.

  “Yes, please,” I say after finding my voice. Justin grabs two beers and slides around to sit down next to me. Taking in my plate, I can’t help but smile. Dinner looks great, and he remembered how I like to eat my steak—medium rare as his is medium well. I guess some things really don’t change. You can behave a certain way, but deep down, the real person is still inside you living, or trying to escape.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure, you know you can always ask me anything.”

  “When Chloe was here, she said something along the lines that you always talk about this place and about Nan, is that true?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Just curious, that’s all,” I say as I take a bite of steak. As soon as the flavors hit my tongue, I can’t help but let out a moan of appreciation.

  “Why do you sound so shocked?”

  “Because I didn’t think you could cook better than the chef at the Inn.”

  “No, not about that, but thank you. I mean the fact that I talk about this place?”

  “Because you left all this behind, and you’re different now. Just didn’t think you remembered her, or here for that matter.” I swallow, maybe a little louder than intended as I feel Justin shift next to me. The pressure of his hand on my thigh causes me to breathe a little harder.

  “Leslie, I never forgot about you guys. How could I? Why is it I have a feeling you made me into a monster?”

  “Not a monster, just a jackass; there’s a difference.” I shrug.

  “Good to know that there’s a difference, but why?”

  “Can we save this talk for another night?”

 
“No, we need to clear the air or us being friends again isn’t going to work out very well.”

  “I have plenty of friends, Justin, who are jackasses. Doesn’t mean we all open Pandora’s box.”

  “Sometimes you just have to toss that lid in the trash and let it all out in the open.”

  “I’d rather not. Plus, it would ruin this great dinner you made us,” I say, popping in another piece of steak. I figure if my mouth is full, I can’t talk.

  “Eat, then the box is opening.”

  I take in his words, and I know he won’t let this slide. He has always been one to deal with a problem right then and there. Just happens he never dealt with us in the past. We have years of shit in that box that never needs to come to light. I continue eating while ignoring the small talk. Soon that’s all we’ll be doing.

  Chapter Ten

  Justin

  I wasn’t sure what I thought dinner would bring for the two of us. I knew Leslie would have questions about who Chloe was, I just didn’t except for us to have to touch on the past so soon. I was hoping that we could get back to the safe zone before we opened old wounds. Dinner turned into that awkward silence thing that you never want to find. How do I recover this evening? How can I get Leslie to talk to me about other things, as we move past the past?

  “How was your dinner?”

  “Superb, thanks again for cooking,” she says without looking at me.

  “Leslie,” I say her name like my life might depend on it. It does the trick because she’s finally looking me in the face, studying me as she tries to figure out what I’m going to say next.

  “Leave the kitchen, we’ll get that later. Grab a beer for us and take a walk with me.”

  She hesitates for a moment. Her body shifts from side to side, her eyes cross to the beer and back to me. Leslie’s internal self is fighting me. One part is saying follow him, while the other is probably instructing her to throw a bottle at my head. I wouldn’t blame her, but I’m praying she trusts me enough to take a leap.

  “Where we going?”

  “Come on, trust me for once.”

  “I did trust you once, Justin. Now, I just don’t know.”

  “Leslie, give this a chance. Let me explain to you about the last decade of my life.”

  “I think we’ll need more beer for that,” she laughs, which causes me to do the same. She’s right, we might need something harder for this.

  “Come,” I say before heading over to the door. I reach over and grab her jacket as the breeze from the water will have a chill in the air. I help her arms slide in through the sleeves. She turns to me, smiles, and opens the door. I glance up at the ceiling, offering a quick thank you to the guy who lives upstairs. Following her down the stairs, I take in our surroundings. How different it is here than at home. How I have to work harder here to make friends than I do at home. Back in California, people flock to me wherever I go. They pretend to know what you need, what you feel, and what you desire. Here, it’s different. I left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth. One that I’m having to repair with each person who’s left. Here, there’s judgment and acceptance wrapped up in one complete package. I can’t figure out though, if it’s the fact that Leslie and I didn’t work out, or if I truly hurt them too.

  When people tell you that young lovers have no clue on life, they’re right. Leslie and I were young, thought our love was enough to cure all things wrong in the world. Turns out neither of us knew a thing about anything. Being eighteen and hundreds of miles away is so much pressure it’ll break the best of the best relationships. Walking this close to her, I want to reach out and grab her hand, wrapping it up in mine as I hold on for dear life. But I can’t. That was lost all those years ago. Now, now I have to settle for just being this close to her while praying she’ll hear me out.

  We reach the end of the street. Leslie turns her head to me, silently asking where we’re going. “Come,” I say, nodding in the direction of the small pavilion near the water. I can hear Leslie’s sigh as she hesitates to follow. Within minutes we’re seated at the old table with the rest of the beers between us. Slowly, I take one out, open and place it down next to her, only to repeat the same for me.

  “You ready to talk?” I ask, giving her a questioning look.

  “Yes, I think we have to, Justin. Don’t you?”

  “Yes, and no. I wish there was a way we could just sweep this under the rug and start over.”

  “I wish we could, but we can’t. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get past it all.”

  “What is the hang-up? Is it because I left, or never came back?”

  “Both, really,” she agrees as she hangs her head down.

  I blow out a breath of air before leaning my head back to stretch the tense muscles in my neck.

  “Before we do this, before we can start over and be friends, the air has to be clean. I need answers, Justin. I know I might not like what you have to say, and visa versa, but we need to be real with each other.”

  “I understand that, Leslie, but some things are best left in the past.”

  “What, like your life that you once had here? Was it so bad that you had to forget about all of us?”

  “Is that what you think? Do you honestly feel that I just forgot about this place?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Let me ask you this: have you once opened one of my books and read it?” I already know the answer to this, but I need to ask.

  “No.”

  “Let me say— if you’ve ever flipped through those pages, you’d realize that I never forgot about Kingston Island or the people who live on it. Not a day has gone by that I’ve not thought about the days when we skipped rocks across the river, or searched through the marsh for oysters.”

  Leslie’s eyes are focused on my mouth, taking in the words that I’m saying. I can tell she’s trying to figure out if I’m being honest or just making this up.

  “Then why stay away?”

  “It was easier. There were so many times I wanted to come home, but then my parents moved and what excuse would I have had?”

  “Friends, you know the people you used to be close to?”

  “The only person that would have been worth visiting had a new life, a new husband. She didn’t need me here interfering in her life.”

  “What about Nan? She loved you, Justin, and was so proud of your accomplishments.”

  “I know. I guess she never told you, huh?”

  “Told me what?”

  “That we talked twice a week.” The moment I let that slip, I know now that I’ll have to tell her.

  “Why would she never tell me this? Why did you never come see her when she was sick?”

  “I asked her not to.” I pause for a moment, thinking through the next part before I say it. I know if it doesn’t come out right, this will end now. “When she told me you were marrying Jack, I was ready to come home. I’d already bought a ticket the night before I found out. I’d called to tell her and she stopped me. She didn’t want me coming back to confuse you, and I agreed. Instead of coming here, I stayed home where I belonged. That was also the night that Nan told me you never forgave me for our breakup, for me leaving to go to school. I’d asked her if you still loved me, do you know what her answer was?”

  “No, but I can only speculate.”

  “She told me that you did, but our timing wasn’t right. That if we were meant to be, one day we would find each other again.”

  “Is that why you’re here? Are you here to see if I still love you?”

  “No, I’m here because my agent sent me. I thought coming here was going to be easy, that I could ignore you and my feelings that I’ve been carrying around for you. Seems I was only lying to myself.”

  “Justin, I don’t know how I feel anymore. I’ve hated you for so long that love is a strong word. I used to think that I could turn Jack into you, that I could make him love me the way we used to love each other. I was so wrong about that. I don’t know who you are a
nymore.”

  “Yes you do, I’m the same me that I’ve always been.”

  “I think you’re wrong. There are two Justin Albotts, you just don’t see it.”

  “Okay, explain to me the two different Justin’s that you think you know.”

  “I don’t know how to explain it. You come here and when I talk to you, it’s like you’re the old Justin that I used to date and know. Then I watch an interview, or read articles about you… And you’re someone else. A person that I don’t know. The way you speak is different, the way you position yourself on camera, it’s fake and not you. I just don’t understand why you’re someone you’re not.”

  “It’s because I have to be. If I were the real person, if I showed the world the way I am, I’d lose fans and be considered some recluse.” Before I can answer, Leslie holds a hand up to stop me. “I need to know why Nan never told me? It kind of makes sense now that when you’d come home to do a speaking event at the store, she found some errand that I’d need to leave for. That she’d send me to some conference. Even though I was at the store most days, I didn’t work there. I’d visit when Jack was working, or just stop by to see Nan.”

  “Because I asked her. There was no way I could stand up inside there and look out at the audience and see your face. You were my distraction. You were the one person I never wanted to see in those chairs. There was a time when I first started doing speaking events that I thought I’d seen you out in the audience. That’s when I realized you were the one person I broke in this adventure, and I never wanted to see the face I’m seeing now staring back at me.”

  Leslie lets the last explanation sink in as she draws a long sip from her bottle. Life is anything but fair at this moment. It’s one cruel joke.

  “I’m confused, Justin.”