Epilogue: You Are the Reason

Mac

YOU ARE THE REASON

Performed by Calum Scott our generation seemed to forget it was ever an option.

"Did you really have a girlfriend?" Mac asked.

"You say that like it's some big deal. Like I've never had a girlfriend. I wasn't the one who wouldn't keep a girl past a swag-and-bag. That was all you," I said, putting the truck in park, turning off the engine, and slamming the door against the laughter that trailed after me.

Mac climbed out, followed by Dawson. My little brother wasn't so little anymore. He was taller than me—almost as tall as Mac who was an easy six foot four. In fact, Dawson's warm, rich skin and dark hair matched Mac's more than mine all around. With my pale skin and pale hair, the only similarity between Dawson and me was in our eyes. We both had our mother's golden-brown ones. Other than that, we both took after our fathers instead of our mother.

Thinking of our mom made my heart tug more than it had when I'd left Liesl in Hawaii. Even though Mom was partly to blame for everything that had happened with Dawson, I still couldn't help hating that I hadn't been there to shoulder some of it for her.

"Perfect timing. We need a bit more muscle on the molly bolts," Georgie said, floating up to Mac, tucking her arm through his, and then kissing him.

Dawson rolled his eyes, grabbed some boxes, and headed toward the house.

I wanted to roll my eyes, too, but the truth was, I was happy Mac had Georgie. They fit. She put up with both his sugar addiction and his Navy career while loving him enough to come help his friend move. Because who the hell offers to help someone move unless they're important to them? Georgie and I hardly knew each other, so it was because of Mac that she was here.

"Get this, Truck had a girlfriend," Mac said as soon as his lips parted from hers.

"Okay?" she said with a slight frown, and I wanted to kiss her myself for making it sound like it wasn't a big deal.

I loaded my arms with items from the bed of the truck and headed toward the open doorway.

"He forgets we weren't all steadfast in our single ways like him," I said.

As soon as I entered the house, I dropped the boxes and felt my eyes zero in on the apparition that was Jersey. She was behind the TV sitting on a black table I'd brought with me from my apartment in Honolulu. The contemporary furniture clashed with the antique feel of the cottage almost as much as the monstrous television. It was so big you could barely see Jersey's head over the back. I moved closer, trying to see what was on the wall that had her so engrossed.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

She jumped, bumping into the TV and making it wobble precariously. I steadied it and watched as she turned her pale eyes in my direction before they skittered back away toward the wall. If I hadn't lived with her for almost two months now, I would think her looking away was from a lack of confidence or, maybe, because she was shy or afraid. In reality, it was because she was thinking. Jersey almost always analyzed her words before she let them out of her mouth, as if she was adjusting them in some form. I wondered what it would sound like if she just spoke without the filter.

In response to my question, Jersey held up a metal cable. "I'm attempting to fasten the television."

"Fasten the television?" I repeated. God, she made me sound like an idiot. I found my tongue coated in nonexistent wool around her, my words stuttering to get out because I was unsure what my non -analyzed words would make me sound like. Would I be some goober from a hick town in Northern California? Or a muscled Coast Guard with a chip on his shoulder?

"Yes." She made a motion from a hook on the back of the TV to the wall. "For safety."

I wanted to laugh, but I didn't. "For safety?"

She flushed—something I rarely saw—and it made me instantly want to touch the pink skin that was normally all white ceramic. Flawless. Except for a tiny, almost imperceptible dusting of freckles across her high cheeks and tiny, upturned nose. Not for the first time since I'd met her, I was reminded of my mom's prized Flower Fairies. The cheap prints and cheap figurines had grazed almost every wall and flat surface of our house in Clover Lake.

"You don't want it to fall and break," Jersey explained. "It would be expensive to replace, and it might injure someone."

"I've lived a long time… almost thirty years now, and I've never lost a person to a TV." I was trying, with a lot of difficulty, to hold back the amusement, because I was more than thrilled she was talking to me. More than thrilled she was there. And I didn't want to somehow offend her by laughing at her carefully chosen words. At the same time, I wasn't sure how to react to this need to attach my TV to the wall with a metal cable so thick it could probably moor one of our Coast Guard cutters to the dock.

She looked away from me, fidgeting with the screwdriver in her hand. "Yes. Well. It only takes one accident." Her voice went from quiet to almost nonexistent, as if she realized something with her statement. As if she were revealing a clue I hadn't yet unraveled.

Mac and Georgie came in the house with more boxes at the same time Dawson came from the back bedroom, and the rare moment where Jersey and I actually talked was broken. I may have lived with her for two months at Mandy and Leena's Victorian, but I could count on probably just my fingers and toes the number of conversations we'd had when it was just the two of us.

"Here." Dawson thrust something at Mac. I didn't really give it much thought as I took the screwdriver out of Jersey's hand and made a motion for her to trade places.

As she passed by me, our skin brushed, sending shivers down my spine. Shivers of joy. Shivers of light. Shivers of touch I'd been denying myself. She ran a hand over her arm where we'd made contact before moving across the room to where Dawson was standing with Mac and Georgie.

I turned my attention to the wall, the molly bolt, and the cable.

"Liesl?" Mac said with laughter barely contained in his voice like mine had been moments before, and my head jerked up to look at the small group of people gathered, watching me.

"What's that?" I asked.

"This picture. It says, ‘Love, Liesl.' Is this the girl?" Mac asked.

"Woman," Georgie corrected him.

I glanced at the picture frame he held and groaned inwardly. I'd never had the desire to go all "Pictures to Burn" on my exes and destroy the evidence of our relationships, but now I was sort of regretting it.

"Yep," I said, trying to hide my annoyance with the whole situation. "Didn't realize Dawson had enough time to unpack my shit for me."

"She's beautiful, Truck," Georgie said.

"She certainly was," I responded and couldn't help a glance toward Jersey. Liesl had been beautiful. Dark, curvy, and Hawaiian. A complete opposite of Jersey, and yet I'd never once experienced shivers when I'd touched Leisl.

"Her name was actually Liesl? As in The Sound of Music ?" Jersey asked, and I heard the amusement in her voice now, roles reversed as she got in a little jab at me. It didn't upset me one bit. Instead, it had me wishing I could do more stupid shit to get her to laugh in full.

"Laugh it up, everyone. Go right ahead," I said with a wry smile no one saw as I remembered that Liesl's name had been the first thing to intrigue me about her.

Mac burst out laughing. "She doesn't look German."

"Obviously, she's not," I snorted.

"I don't think that should be a real person's name," Mac continued, as if I hadn't spoken.

"Really, this is what you all want to talk about? Her name? Not a moment of concern about whether I had my heart broken or not?" I tossed back.

"Wait, you have a heart?" Dawson ripped into me, and I didn't look at him. I just tried to focus on the damn screws in my hand.

"Have you even seen the movie, Travis?" Jersey asked. She was one of the few people who called me by my real name. The majority of the people in my life called me Truck, a name I'd inherited at Texas A he doesn't know how to react to someone like you."

I turned to him with a puzzled expression. "What?"

But then Travis was pulling him into a hug that surprised me almost as much as Mac hugging me had. The two tough military men embraced as if it were the easiest thing in the world to do. And really, hugs should be easy. They'd been easy, once upon a time, in our house.

Another wave of pain hit me again, warning me. Telling me I needed to leave and get back to my room at Mandy and Leena's quickly. Telling me I needed to have a heating pad and a double dose of ibuprofen before things got out of hand.

"I think we'll head out, too," I said, putting the strap of my purse on my shoulder and looking at Violet.

"I came with Mandy and Leena. Can I leave with them?" Violet asked. She was unpacking a box in the kitchen as if she had every right to do so. As if she belonged in this house. Violet never seemed to overthink things, compared to my nonstop analysis of everything I did and said.

"Honestly, we need to head out ourselves. The airport shuttle is coming to get us at four in the morning, and I still have to finish packing," Mandy said.

I envied them slightly, their ability to just get up and leave on a three-week cruise through the Panama Canal. Mandy had fought and beat breast cancer a few years back, and ever since then, the two friends had been seeing the world and slowly marking off items on their bucket lists. I didn't think I'd ever do either of those things. Travel. Bucket lists. I'd never been farther than New York City and one trip, in another lifetime, to Disney World. For the majority of my twenty-three years, I'd stayed within a two-hour circumference of my hometown.

We all said our goodbyes, but Travis stopped me at the door, a hand to my elbow. The energy that hit me was as strong as it had been when I'd brushed past him behind the TV earlier. As if the molecules in my genes were being rearranged by his touch the way it might be if I was teleporting. It reminded me of all the reasons I'd avoided him as much as humanly possible when he'd been staying with us.

"Thank you," he said, sincerely, seriously. Travis was rarely serious. Even when he was scolding Dawson, it was usually said with a tease or a taunt, as if life was just a series of obstacles to be laughed about. His attitude appealed to the side of me that was constantly trying to rid itself of the heaviness of our lives, so his seriousness hit me more than it probably would have otherwise.

"You're welcome," I replied. "If you need anything, you know where to find us."

I said it, but I think he and I both knew I didn't mean it. I didn't want him or Dawson to come find us. I needed my life to go back to the bookstore, and the garden at Leena's, and taking care of Violet. I needed Violet's life to go back to classes and plans that didn't involve boys—men.

"Same goes for you. We're here if you need us," he responded, and I felt the authenticity in his voice that had been absent in mine.

I nodded and moved away, my molecules readjusting to the space, the pain in my abdomen reminding me of what I truly needed.

Violet hugged both men, almost bouncing as she moved away from Dawson and smiled back at him over her shoulder. Dawson smiled back at her with a wink. I wanted to throttle him for encouraging her. It wasn't just the six years separating them that drove me crazy. It was everything about Dawson. His chip on his shoulder. His careless attitude. His recklessness. Violet didn't need that in her life; she'd already had too much of it.

Violet and I were just getting into the car when Travis's voice halted me. "Hey, wait!"

He ducked back inside the house and came out with a pizza box and a plastic bag. He jogged over to the car. His ice-blond hair was shining and his body was almost glowing in the moonlight swirling through the fog as it rolled in. He looked like a superhero. Maybe Aquaman—and not the movie version—but the comic-book version. Fit. Gorgeous. Loving water and sea and saving people. I could see the moment sketched across paper in my mind. My hand twitched at the thought of what it would look like in light and shadows of charcoal.

"Take this. It's too much for Dawson and me to eat, and with Mandy and Leena gone, you won't have anyone cooking for you."

I smiled at that. "I do know how to cook. I've been cooking dinner since I was twelve."

He kind of eyed me for a moment. "Well, now you won't have to for a few more days."

He pushed the food at me, and I took it because it was easier than having a debate over it. I placed the food in the back and then turned to get in the driver's seat just as another stab of pain rolled through me.

"Are you okay?" Travis asked. I was surprised he'd seen the pain, because I was pretty adept at hiding it.

"I'm fine," I told him. It was the answer I always gave. I was fine. I would be fine. I'd be better than fine in about seven days. Life would right itself again.

When I went to shut the driver's door, Travis stopped it, holding it open. I was forced to look at him with my fake smile, and I saw his warm eyes were full of concern.

"You don't look okay."

"Honest, I'm just tired," I answered back.

He didn't look like he believed me. He wouldn't be the first or the last to not believe me, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was getting home. Getting to bed. Getting to curl up and try to sleep away the pain.

I pulled the door, and he finally let it go. I turned the car on and backed out of the driveway while he watched us leave. Violet hadn't noticed. She was texting on her phone and hardly looked up.

"I can't believe you embarrassed me like that," she said.

I groaned internally. I didn't have it in me to fight with her tonight. We didn't fight often. More lately, but that was normal teenage defiance, wasn't it? "It wasn't my intent," I told her.

"I'm not a baby, and you're not my mom."

"But in the eyes of the law, I'm responsible for you," I replied.

"Maybe I should file the emancipation papers after all," she said, still not looking up from the phone.

It stung, but I knew she didn't mean it. Violet and I had survived a lot together. This squabble was never going to come permanently between us. It was an old discussion, but it usually only came up when she felt bad that I was the one providing for her.

"There's really no point in filing," I responded with the words I said every time it was mentioned. "You aren't working enough to be financially responsible for yourself."

"It's kind of hard to get a job when I don't have my driver's license."

Another old squabble I wasn't sure I had the energy for with pain dragging at me. I didn't respond anyway, because there was nothing new to add. It was expensive to pay for driver's education classes, and it would be even more expensive to add her to the car insurance. I could barely pay now, let alone with a teenage driver added onto the premium.

She sneezed, and my heart lurched. She looked over at me. "Don't."

"Just take the extra antibiotics when you get home."

"I'm not sick. It was just a sneeze."

"And you know the protocol."

"I'm not running a fever. It was a freakin' sneeze."

"It doesn't hurt to take them," I said quietly.

She didn't say anything. She pushed her phone under her legs and then leaned with her head looking out the window of the car. We drove the last couple minutes in silence. Mandy and Leena's house was at the edge of town on a hill that afforded a view of the sea from the very top windows. The best view was from the attic. I'd only found that out after Leena had sent me up there to get an old rug she'd decided she needed to put back in the library.

Tonight, the house was lit up inside and out. It made my heart leap a little, dragging me out of my melancholy. It felt like it was welcoming us home. The twinkling lights hanging from a trellis that led to the backyard were lit up, making the manicured garden at the front of the house a fairyland of bushes and flowers. The lights made me think of the ones Mom had hung from my bedroom wall once upon a time.

"I can't wait till I'm eighteen," Violet said, a momentary lapse into self-pity. She had a right to it, but she hardly ever went there. Even right after the accident, in the hospital, all battered and bruised and sore from surgery, she'd hardly ever sunk into it.

Having her spleen removed had meant lots of antibiotics. Ones that she was on daily until she was eighteen, and some she'd be on for the rest of her life. She'd never be able to fight things off like people who still had all their body parts. The guilt filled me with almost as much pain as the real pain twisting through my pelvic region. It caused me to jerk the steering wheel slightly. It caused Violet's eyes to journey from the window to me.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Cramps?"

I nodded again.

She reached across and squeezed my shoulder. "Let's get you home to bed."

That was the plan. Antibiotics for her. Bed for me. We were quite the pair. Our lives, our health, our issues never seemed to leave us alone for very long. But I was eternally grateful I had her to go through it with me, and I knew she felt the same. We were in this thing together. This thing called life. And someday, we'd look back at these times and know that, while hard, they were the base of the beautiful future we'd made ourselves. That we hadn't been handed anything. We'd earned every second of every achievement that was coming our way, the town be damned.

Chapter Three - Truck

brEAK ON ME

Performed by Keith Urban

The barista called my name, and I grabbed the coffee cups from the counter and left. When I'd told Dawson I'd go grab food and caffeine for both of us, he'd barely grunted. He'd been focused on the TV with a headset on and a game controller in hand, head resting on the back of the chair that had always been mine. He was online with some of his friends from Clover Lake. He always got frustrated when he was on with them, so I didn't know why he continued to torture himself.

It just reminded him of where he really wanted to be and why he couldn't be there.

He wasn't going to be happy when I handed him the job application I'd stuffed in the drawer at the house, either, but he had to do something other than eat, play video games, and pout. He was never going to get out of this dark space without a reason to do it. I knew that for the truth it was.

Back when I'd been flunked out of Professor Abrams' class and had to stay at Texas A she ran around and climbed inside. I carefully pushed Jersey back into the pickup and shut the door, then I jogged around to the other side.

They didn't need to figure out a way to pay; I would. I had money in savings. Not a lot after paying for the first, last, and down on the house that was probably out of my real price range, but I had money and credit cards. Violet was right. We'd figure it out.