Chapter 17

seventeen

DENNIS

I’m keeping busy, but just barely enough. The new sheriff, Maddox, is letting me use my personal truck for official business because I have a plow attachment to the front. I can barely think about everything that needs to be done because my thoughts keep drifting back to Sydney.

There was no way I was going to be able to talk my way out of such a fuck-up. She was right to send me away, even if it hurts like nothing has before. If I really loved her, I never would have thought her capable of any crime, except stealing my heart. I keep kicking myself and coming back to her not being so willing to run if I hadn’t pushed her so hard about Christmas. Maybe if I hadn’t pushed her so hard about the holiday, she would have let me explain my stupid comment. Sydney was looking for an out with me, and at the first one she found, she ran.

It just brings me back to why she was looking for an excuse. Where was I letting her down? The only ex I have to ask what I lacked is Carmen, and I have no interest in opening that can of worms even though she keeps sending me texts.

Maddox gave Wolensky the week off, given Ina is about to pop and he was good enough to cover me last week. The last thing any of us want is to be caught short-handed while Wolensky has to find a way to get to his wife in labor. With the forecast only getting worse, I agreed that it made sense for Wolensky to be able to spend the holiday with his family.

I don’t mind. The storm prep is keeping me busy. At least, it mostly is. Ben distracts me when he tells me he’s dropped Wishbone off with Sydney because he’s leaving early to travel to his parents. Under any other circumstance, I would be fine with that, but instead, it has me chasing thoughts of what could have been and hating that Sydney is going to be out in the snow having to walk my dog.

It sucks that I’ll have to spend Christmas at the station, but after Saturday, my heart isn’t in it. I can’t imagine being greeted by cheerful Christmas lights when my heart is broken. I want to tear down all the decorations at my house that she helped put up a few weeks ago, because it’s not the same knowing Sydney isn’t in my life. I’m starting to understand why she’s anti this holiday.

Thinking about the last time I was at her place breaks my heart, but I remember that she hadn’t done any grocery shopping all week, choosing instead to hole up in the apartment. Partially because she didn’t want to go out, but also because having anything touch her healing skin hurt. Her fridge was mostly empty when I left. I know because I was the one who ordered food every day. Mary sent over breakfast every morning, victim to her own guilt over what happened.

I tell Maddox I’m going to take a ride to see how things are looking around town, but instead I head to the superstore just outside of town. Do I hate lying to my new boss? Sure, but I also want to leave whatever last minute grocery needs available in Hanson’s to residents who may need it.

The store is packed, but I’m wearing my uniform and people get out of my way. All I’ve been hearing is how bad the storm is going to get, so I load up on perishables and nonperishables. I get things Sydney can heat up or things she can eat cold. I grab cases of water bottles and various sizes of bulk batteries. I wander past an endcap of hand warmer packs and grab two large boxes. When I see a bin of warm blankets, I add those to the mix. The flashlights are mostly out, so I grab what I can before buying battery-operated smaller lights. It’s not perfect, but it’s something. There is a real chance some of our residents lose power, and I want to be prepared for them in case they aren’t.

The cashier looks like she wants to question me, but again, my uniform has her shaking her head and scanning it all up. My credit card weeps at the total, but whatever we don’t use, I’ll return. I can’t hate it when I know this is going to help the woman that I love, even if she never knows. A quick stop at the hardware store on the way back into town sees me loaded up with a few bags of rock salt and some shovels that I’ll keep on hand just in case.

As I’m driving into town, I spy Mildred walking with something in her hand that looks like it’s on fire. Since she’s headed away from the firehouse, I pull over and come to a stop.

“Mrs. Blumenthal, it’s pretty cold outside. Do you need a lift home?” I call to her as I get out of my truck.

She pauses to look at me, waving whatever is in her hand around. “It’s just a little sage I’m burning to cleanse all the bad energy from the town. Too many broken hearts. Why offer me a ride, Deputy? Curious to find out what Noah Callahan was doing in Sydney Perkin’s house this morning?”

Just hearing her name makes me want to clutch my chest, but I can’t let Mildred think I’m having a heart attack. The look she gives me is all too knowing .

“I’m sure Noah was just being a good friend. He’s a good man,” I insist.

“I don’t doubt it. Ginger wasn’t the type to suffer fools, least of all little boys, but he went and broke her heart not coming back here or calling. Seems only fair to let the boy sweat out his return a little.”

“Let me drive you home, Mrs. Blumenthal,” I say, gesturing at my truck.

“Yes, yes, I suppose since the snow is starting now.” She walks to my truck, and I’m about to tell her it isn’t forecasted to start till tonight when I feel the first flake on my nose. I look up at the cloudy sky above me and watch the snow begin to fall. “Don’t give up on her,” she says. “That girl wouldn’t know a healthy relationship if it slapped her in the face. I don’t think she’s felt a day of unconditional love in her life, until your party, that is.”

Mildred cackles from beside the passenger door of my truck, waiting for me to help her up into it. I want to ask what she meant, but as soon as I get in and start the engine, she starts babbling about how important it’s going to be to find someone to stay warm with this Christmas.

I drop her off with a bag of food and extra blankets before continuing to Sydney’s house. When I park in front of her house, I hesitate. It feels like I’m stepping over a boundary if I do this, but I’m also not loving the idea of her possibly being left without any supplies. The snow gathering on her driveway and walkway tell me she hasn’t left the house. The snow is still light now, but it’s coming fast, so I take my time to give the walkway a quick shovel before scattering the rock salt. It’s not the job I want to do, but I’ve been gone for too long. I can’t imagine Maddox will love that.

I leave one of the bags on Sydney’s porch. It can’t be a stretch that her landlord would leave her tools that she could need when there is a snow storm approaching. The tarp I set out for Wishbone is less excusable, but she has to know I know Wishbone is with her. I hope it makes sense that it’s to give the dog a spot to do her business if the snow gets too heavy.

I stare longingly up at Sydney’s door, wondering if there is anything else I could do for her, but I know the best thing for us is to give her the space she needs. She made it clear that she was done with me when I left her house yesterday, and it’s breaking my heart to think about it, but I’m not yet done with her.

Not when she sends me a picture of Wishbone in the coat that I bought because Sydney pointed out that she doesn’t have a thick coat like a Husky. To punish myself, I read through our text chain since the key party. Reading her teasing words and seeing the silly pictures she would send me only makes my heart ache.

Sydney is a bruise that I keep pressing on. But the more I press on it, the more I’ve come to realize that having her in my life is infinitely better than not, and I don’t care what it’s going to take for me to win her back, but I know I’m going to.

Let me know if you need anything.

This text is all I can offer her for now, but I’m not going to stop trying. Before I drive away, I see her Christmas lights flick on.

When I get back to the station house, we’re in full chaos mode, and it keeps me busy as we review the emergency plans. We’re sitting down with fire and sanitation since they handle the plows. They’re trying to keep the roads salted and plowed, but they’re also making it clear that they can’t make promises that the roads will be drivable.

Before he leaves, I tell Wolensky that his wife should start going down the phone tree to let people know they should stay put for the holidays. Ina is better than any phone tree, and I know once she tells Mildred, Bernice, and Sheila, everyone will know.

Cole Brawner at the firehouse confirms they’ve called all their guys in on standby. The need for firefighters is probably more important than the need for police. The bitter cold means people are more desperate to find a way to get warm, including ways that may not be the safest– fireplaces that haven’t been cleared properly, space heaters over-taxing poor electrical wiring, or people who use their open ovens for extra warmth. All of these are calls I know the fire department has answered in the past.

We make a list of our most at-risk citizens, the elderly or single parents, and devise a plan to be ready to help if needed. With any luck, we won’t need any of this, but it’s better to be prepared than not. This is what we are here for: to help anyone in town.

Before bunking down for the night, I take one last drive around town. The snow is still slow but consistent. If this keeps up, I’m not sure what we’re going to do.

I look up at the sky to watch the snow fall around me. The stars that Sydney loves are blocked by the clouds that bring the white Christmas everyone dreams of.

On Christmas Eve morning, I lay in my bunk, staring at the ceiling. The room is small, enough for three of us to sleep in, but I’m the only schmuck who hasn’t been home all week. Sydney was only at my place one day, but even that was enough to cement her everywhere. I wanted to see her sitting at my dinner table waiting for food I finished cooking or in my bed and my shower.

Once. I fucked her in my bed once, and the smell of her is everywhere.

I’m wallowing and a few people have commented on it to me, but at my grim look, they leave it.

As I parse every word in our argument, one thing becomes clear: Sydney was looking for an out, and I handed it to her with one stupid comment, one, admittedly terrible, not-joke. I wish I had been better at showing her that with me, she never needed an out. My feelings for her have grown beyond anything I’ve felt before. I wish she understood that they’re unconditional. I would rather skip Christmas every year for the rest of my life than live without her.

I roll over and open my phone to a selfie of the two of us from the Christmas Festival. Her grin is wide and she looks so happy. We look so happy. I’m a glutton for punishment, keeping that as my home screen, but I don’t have the heart to change it.

I don’t like to compare my relationships, but it’s obvious: the hurt after losing Sydney is nothing like what I experienced after breaking up with Carmen. Losing Sydney and seeing her hurt was enough to drive away my turmoil over finding out for sure that Carmen was cheating.

My morning drive to Sydney’s place has way more people out and about than I would like, given the wintry conditions. Some parents watch their kids play from their porches, since getting anywhere is nearly impossible without having a plow, snow tires, and chains.

Some brave tourists weather the storm, already stir crazy, but their options for what to do with their Christmas Eve are limited. The decision to cancel the festival today hurts, but it was ultimately the right call.

This is the third day I’ve driven to Sydney’s to shovel her out and brush off her car, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but I haven’t been lucky enough to do so. Mildred is standing outside her house on her porch, just watching me as I go about my routine. I wish I could make sure Sydney’s car has enough gas, but I think that would be taking it too far. I already feel like I’m crossing the line into stalker territory.

Mildred’s comments about not giving up on Sydney have played over and over in my head to the point where I’m obsessing over how much is too far for me to push her. At what point am I pushing too hard and my attention is unwanted? From what Mildred said, Sydney needs the reminder that I do love her, even if I never had the chance to say the words.

She’s the only one on my mind.

On my drive back, I get a surprising call that I take against my better judgment. It takes an extra twenty minutes to get there, but before I know it, I’m pulling up in front of my other ex-girlfriend’s house.

Carmen is standing in front of her house with her arms crossed. She looks decidedly less put together than the last time I saw her, or really, even any time I saw her.

“I can’t believe you came,” she says as I close the door and walk toward her.

“You said you needed help, Cammie . Do you really take me for the kind of guy who will just leave you in the lurch? ”

I should have. I should have just left her to realize that she lost out, but she didn’t say what was wrong on the phone and she lives alone, and if there was something wrong, I wasn’t going to risk it. There may be no love lost between us, but I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if something happened because I didn’t come.

She lets out a long sigh but doesn’t otherwise react to the nickname that Aaron and Frankie call her. “No. Why don’t you come inside?” She steps into her house and opens the door wider for me to follow.

“No, Carmen. Tell me what you need. In case you haven’t noticed, the town is facing a blizzard, and I need to do other things.”

“Like shoveling Sydney Perkins out of her place every day?”

I rip off my gloves and follow her inside, stomping the snow off my boots. Carmen walks toward her kitchen and I take my time untying my boots to follow her. “I thought that would get you to finally talk to me. I hate how we ended things, and you’ve been ignoring my texts.”

“How you ended things. I was just the one to finally admit we were over, out loud. And of course, I’ve been ignoring your texts. Saying shit like I’m slumming it with Sydney is unacceptable.” I’m not ready to talk about her cheating on me, not when the wound Sydney left me with is so raw.

She has a hurt look on her face. When I glance around, I realize her place is in disarray. Carmen was meticulous, always complaining when I left even one thing in the sink or a blanket unfolded.

“I made a mistake.” Her voice is small and I see she’s hugging herself. She turns away from me and grabs the pot of coffee and pours us both a cup. I accept, knowing that I can use the pick-me-up and because it stops my hands from clenching at my sides. The anger that I had buried in order to take care of Sydney is rising again. Only it’s not just anger; it’s disgust with Carmen and myself for being a doormat.

I have no idea what I’m doing here. I want nothing to do with Carmen anymore, and I have no interest in what she has to say, but I feel like I need this, like we both need this.

“What happened?” I sit in my usual stool at the kitchen island, hoping that the mistake she’s referencing isn’t us.

“I ruined the best thing for me.” I open my mouth to object and she holds her hand up to me. “I cheated on you. I had been cheating on you…for years.”

My heart rate picks up. We might be over, but hearing this still hurts, to know that I meant so little in a relationship I gave my all to. I’m really not ready to confront this head on, and it makes me hate her a little for forcing the issue. I’ve been living with this weird casual indifference toward someone I thought I loved, but to hear straight from her mouth just how little she cared to cheat on me for years…that I was that easy to leave behind, the same way Sydney is tossing me aside now...

“I don’t need to hear this,” I tell her through gritted teeth.

“But you do. I knew it was wrong. I knew that I shouldn’t do it. I knew that telling you I was visiting my sister or a friend from college was a lie while I was somewhere else spending the night with another guy, sometimes two. I wanted to feel bad, when all you did was make me out to be this perfect princess to stand at your side.”

I push back up to my feet as my heart races. Carmen is confessing that our entire relationship was a lie, and all I can think is how Sydney always called me Deputy Perfect, and maybe that image I project is what drove her away. I genuinely like helping people, but I’m not as pure and perfect as Sydney makes me out to be. I thought she saw all of me, my flaws, my insecurity at not being enough, but maybe I was wrong.

Either way, I can’t settle this with Carmen when she’s not even my second or third thought right now.

“I don’t need this Carmen. I don’t need to know any of this. I would rather continue to live in ignorance over what our relationship was than know that I meant so little to you. I wanted to fucking marry you.” But like most things between us, that hope died years ago.

She looks up at me, defiant. “I never wanted to marry you, but I knew that you would always be there to catch me. I was so obvious about it and you never cared that I came home with another man’s cum soaking my panties. You never even knew that my body was covered in hickeys and bite marks left on me by someone else. I love period sex, but I told you I hated it when I didn’t want you to find those marks.”

Every word out of her mouth feels pointed and like poison. What is she hoping to get out of this?

“Save your truths for Confession, because if you want absolution from me, you’re not getting it.”

“I don’t want it. I want you to know what a lame duck boyfriend you were that you let me walk all over you in designer heels another man bought me and then fucked me in.” She walks over to me and grabs my arms. “And I want you to go back to Sydney and tell her not to fuck up the best thing that happened to her.”

I’m about to rip my arms out of her grip and shout that I know this, but she’s thrown me for a loop. “What?”

“I was with you because you gave me a safe landing place when I knew that we were wrong for each other. I fooled around because even if one of those other guys broke my heart, you would be there to make it better without even knowing why. I don’t know what happened with Sydney, but I know I’ve never seen you as happy with me as you were with her for just three weeks, and I hated that. I hated that she made you happy, so I texted you, hoping that there was some broken part of you that might try to make my broken heart better again, but you only had eyes for her, and I knew you never looked at me like that.”

“I’m not talking about Sydney with you.” I move toward the door.

“I don’t expect you to. I just wanted to give you some sort of closure on our relationship. I know you were uncomfortable with the key party, but I don’t know. I felt like our relationship was stagnant.”

“Because you were too much of a chickenshit to tell me you didn’t actually love me. So congratulations, Carmen, you’re even worse than everyone thought because rather than just letting me go to start something with Sydney or someone else before now, you strung me along like a puppet on your string. I’m tired of it, and I’m not interested in anything more you have to say. I knew you were cheating on me. Aaron spilled the beans to me last week, Cammie . I know that you were hungover after Halloween from fucking Frankie. I know now that while I rubbed your back and held your hair as you threw up, it was because you spent the night with someone else. You’re opening a can of worms for no reason because I got my closure when Aaron told me you don’t have a gag reflex. So, unless you have a real reason to call me here other than unburdening yourself, then I think I’ll leave to see if there is someone who actually needs my help.”

Her tongue darts out to wet her lips, and I take another step back and away from her.

“I still need my tires changed,” she blurts.

“Oh, Carmen, you have got to be fucking kidding me. How many times did I tell you that you needed to change your tires? How many times did I try to take your car to take care of it for you? No, instead you were blowing me off so you could blow someone else. I think you mistake my kindness for being a pushover. Call your new boyfriend and see if he’ll do it because there is no way I can call Chris Moore on Christmas Eve to change your tires, even if he is the only mechanic in town.”

The thought of the town mechanic has me rubbing at my chest. He’s possibly the only person in Evergreen Lake who can rival Sydney for her loathing of the holiday, but I’ve seen him around town looking a little lighter since Holly and her daughter Noelle got stranded here. No, I’m not calling him to help her.

“Fran?ois left. He can’t help me.”

I need to breathe through the first unkind thought that floats through my mind before I can speak. “Hold on.”

I lace up my boots and go out to my car. I hate that she melts with relief that I’m going to help her. When I get back to her front door, she’s confused.

“What is all this?”

I drop a case of water, a blanket, and a flashlight just inside her door. “It’s a safety kit while you wait out the storm.”

“But I need to go to my mom’s tonight.” Carmen says it like she expects me to care.

“You should have thought of that before you told me that you fucked around during our relationship.”

“Can you at least drive me?” Her voice is getting shrill as the panic sets in.

“Call someone else, Carmen. I thought I could come here and help you out, but you just gave me all the best reasons why you’re not my problem anymore. I’m blocking your number. If you need help, find someone else to call.”

I don’t let her get the last word in as I walk away from her. She’s right. We did need to have this conversation. I needed to be able to really close the door on what we had because she made it clear that it wasn’t a relationship. I spent years with Carmen, and the three weeks I had with Sydney were more of a partnership than Carmen and I ever had.

Of course, my thoughts circle back to Sydney because she’s the only person on my mind that I care about right now. My phone vibrates again, and I look toward Carmen’s house, wondering if she is going to harp on me about the tires before I have a chance to block her number, but it’s my mom calling instead.

Hating myself for it, I send her to voicemail. With rapid-fire thumbs I tell her that we’ve got a snowstorm and I’ll call her when I can. Her response is a photo of her and my dad on the beach.

I love that they’re living their best lives, but now I have to do what I can to get my girl back. Once this storm is over, of course.