Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-Two

Alex

A FOREST OF sterile cubicles march across the beige room. Fluorescent lights hum overhead. A low susurrus of chatter rustles like artificial tree leaves, the occasional passage of feet like some creature scurrying under brush.

This whole place scratches at my skin. It's a forest made of plastic, a treescape composed of boxy cubicles and work-appropriate conversations.

I place a picture frame in a box. The photo shows me and Carly at the top of some hike, trees all around us, the horizon hazy. I toss a coffee cup and a couple pens on top of the photo, then start checking the drawers of my desk.

The cubicle walls creak when someone leans against them.

"So, you're really leaving, huh?"

I straighten to find my co-worker Tim watching me, a mug of coffee in one hand. Well, former co-worker, I suppose.

"I'm really leaving," I say.

Damn, it's nice to hear that out loud. I had to say it once to my boss, then again and again to my co-workers. They're understandably baffled by my sudden departure. For all they know, I love this job and hate Tripp Lake, but here I am packing up my things and walking out the door.

"Well, we'll miss you, man," Tim says. "On to bigger and better things?"

"Definitely," I say.

I don't tell him those bigger and better things include working for someone who will thwart this firm's efforts. I'm going to do it. I've finally decided on that. I'm going to use my environmental science degree and my law degree and my experience at this firm to get a job protecting everything Tim and the others fight to destroy. Clients like the Green account won't squeeze through those loopholes, not with me sticking my fingers in the holes to plug them up. I know their games. I know how they work. And I swear I'm going to do everything I can stop them.

I close up my box. I didn't keep much at my desk, never saw a reason to, so I carry only a single box in my arms as I make my way toward the door. I get a few more goodbyes on my way out. I nod pleasantly, put on my most diplomatic smile. But I know I'll never see these people again. I'll never see this place again. Not unless we meet in court.

Walking out of the doors of that office is like stepping into the sun for the first time. My body feels lighter as I carry my box down the sidewalk. I could take a rideshare or something, but I suddenly need to walk, need to move my body to expel some of the nervous-excited energy tingling through me. This is it. I really did it. I'll never walk through those doors again. I've thrown away the career and life my parents designed for me. I've chosen myself for once.

It wasn't easy. I could have done it sooner, but it took me some time to actually pull the plug. Mom caught wind of it, of course, and had a lot to say. Or, at least, I assume she had a lot to say. I don't actually know. I took one last phone call with her, but told her at that time that our relationship needs to change if it's going to continue to exist at all. She didn't like hearing that, and I had no choice but to block her number. And Dad's.

It isn't the nicest way to go about this, but building boundaries is going to take time. Right now, what I really want, what I'm really focused on, is myself. If my parents can't accept that then we are better off not being in contact, at least for now.

I hope Carly isn't taking the brunt of it. She says she isn't, but I know Mom will try to get to me through her now that I've cut her off. Still, Carly has always been better at this stuff than me; she's always resisted the pressure better than I have. And it's not like I mean to never speak to my parents ever again. I'm just choosing myself in this moment. Myself and…

I reach my apartment building and head inside, waiting eagerly for the elevator. It seems to crawl its way upward when I punch the button for the fifth floor. The hallway is silent. Even when I reach my door, I hear nothing on the other side of it. But I know he's there.

Every concern about my dramatic life choices evaporates the moment I open that door and see Henry sitting on the floor in my living room. His head pops up when he hears me come in. I set my box of work things on the kitchen counter beside the door and toe off my shoes to make my way to him.

"I wasn't sure what you wanted to do with your books," he says.

I'm not listening, not really. His hair is a beautiful mess after last night. He lounges in a pair of my sweatpants that are too big for him and an old T-shirt, and he couldn't possibly look more handsome. I get down on the floor with him and cup his face to kiss him.

Henry laughs when we part. "How did it go with work?"

"It went okay," I say.

"No one gave you trouble?"

I don't care about this. I don't want to talk about this. I just want to keep touching him. But I make myself sound like a human anyway. "Tim swung by to say goodbye. I think a lot of them are confused about the decision. It all seems very sudden to them."

"They're not entirely wrong. It is pretty sudden."

"Yeah."

I should care about that, I suppose, about what my former colleagues will think of me up and disappearing out of nowhere, but it's hard to focus on that stuff when I have Henry here in my apartment, his skin warm in my hands. I lean forward and kiss him again, lingering this time, soaking up the fact that I can do this whenever I want from now on. There's no more time limit.

I'm going back to Tripp Lake with him.

Of all the crazy decisions I've made since that day at the airport, that one is perhaps the craziest. Despite the situation with my parents, I'm going back. Henry needs a roommate, and I need to get out of San Francisco. We agreed to go for it after his confession at the airport.

Then why don't you make a selfish choice for once?

Those words hit me like a hammer, and my whole world crumbled. I couldn't stand the thought of leaving him, couldn't stand the thought of returning to San Francisco and my old life as though nothing had changed, as though he had never happened.

Henry… I'd said, lingering on that sidewalk, seeing the cracks in my life for the first time, I love you.

I'd known the moment the words left my mouth that there was no going back. I had to catch my flight that day, but Henry followed a couple weeks later. It gave me enough time to tell my boss that I was leaving for good. I put in my two week's notice immediately, and Henry arrived later to help me pack up my apartment and get the hell out of here.

We'll be driving back to Tripp Lake. I have a car here. It's not huge, but it's big enough to fit the necessities. I'm selling off the furniture and anything too big to fit in my trunk or backseat. Henry already has a bed and couch and all that in his house, so there's no reason to bring mine.

It'll be weird living so close to my parents' place while cutting off contact, but I'm hoping that relationship can change some day. Maybe it'll take time and therapy, but I haven't given up on them yet. It's up to them whether they've given up on me.

Regardless, the life Henry showed me during my "vacation" to Tripp Lake is the life I want to build. With him. I want to go on hikes. I want to visit him at the café. I want to work to save those trails and trees I've loved since I was a kid instead of working to destroy them. I want to keep that lake as clear and clean as possible.

It isn't going to be easy to restart my life, but the tingle in my gut isn't fear — it's excitement. Because I'll have Henry beside me, and I know that together we can figure it out.

"I packed as much as I could," Henry says, "but I wasn't sure what to do with your clothes. The suits especially."

I scowl. Those suits are for work, for the job I walked away from today.

"We could always throw them out," I say.

Henry slaps my arm. "At least donate them. You're just going to throw out a bunch of nice suits?"

"I don't need them," I say. "And I never want to need them again. That life is behind me."

Henry's smile lights up my empty apartment full of boxes. The only thing still in its usual state is my bed, which someone is coming to pick up tomorrow before Henry and I hit the road to drive back to Tripp Lake. We decided to make it an adventure, a long, meandering road trip. It's also a nice early test of this thing between us. If you can be in a car together for fourteen-plus hours, your relationship can probably withstand just about anything.

And that's what this is now. A relationship. Henry and I have kept in constant contact since that day at the airport. We recently passed the one-month mark, if we count our time in Tripp Lake, and I want nothing more than to get to his house, our house, and start our life. A lot of this might be new to me, but I don't need a roadmap to know how I feel.

I lean forward to kiss him again. I should be packing, but I can't seem to stop touching him.

"You're awfully affectionate today," he says. "What was that one for?"

"I'm happy you're here. I'm happy we're leaving. I'm happy all of this happened."

Henry's smile softens. "I am too. I never expected it. I thought you were straight."

"I thought I was too."

"I guess it's never too late to learn new things about yourself."

We both laugh at that. We're only twenty-five, and it feels like we have forever to learn about each other. I can't wait.

I really, literally can't wait, in fact. I climb to my feet, offering my hands to Henry. When he takes them, I pull him up after me, then start walking backward out of the living room and down the hall toward the bedroom. Henry chews on his bottom lip when he realizes where I'm leading him.

"What about packing?" he says.

"We can do it later."

"Do you really think there's going to be a later once we're in bed?"

It's a valid question. I barely made it to my last day of work because Henry and I were up all night after he arrived yesterday. And we were equally as handsy in the morning. My sheets are a tangle this evening, and I have every intention of making them worse.

Once we enter my room, I give Henry a jerk, yanking him forward so he falls against my chest.

"No," I say, looking into those blue, blue eyes, "I don't. But I also don't care."

He might protest. He might laugh. But I kiss him before he has an opportunity to say a single word.