Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Understatement,” Uncle Chuck says, his lips thinning in a severe line.
Well, damn. “What was Micah’s reaction?”
“Haven’t heard yet. But I left a message, making it clear he needs to get back here to deal with his grandfather’s estate and affairs, given he’s also the beneficiary of the living trust.”
“Which is why you wanted to warn me,” I mutter, and he nods.
I swallow thickly, thinking about the last time I saw Micah in person—it was after the accident that took my parents and brother-in-law about six years ago. By that time, we had agreed to a legal separation so he could continue pursuing his dream. He kept himself busy between acting classes and auditions, along with a server job at an upscale restaurant in the evenings. The city is expensive, and it’s the only way he can afford to live there. In fact, unless something’s changed, he still rents a room from some guy who’s a financial analyst. Dennis, I think.
The first year apart was tough. I even closed the bar for two weeks to stay with him, testing out the idea of living there, but it only made me miss running my own business and hate the city more. And he knew it too. After I returned, I was even busier with my bar and he with his career, so the distance between us only grew.
He followed me home after the service for my family and held me all night. It was a comfort having him there but also painful. He stayed a few more days until I urged him to go back to his life in LA. We argued, a fight I picked because I couldn’t handle the thought of him leaving me too. Not after getting used to him being here again. He looked disheartened as he packed his car to head back to the city, and it likely led to him leaving me a final mournful message: that it was best if he officially filed for divorce. It gutted me despite both of us having a good reason for it. But I was never served the papers.
Maybe he got busy, or maybe he’s only stalling—just like me. If either of us were truly serious, it would’ve happened already. It still will. One day, he’ll meet someone he wants a future with in LA. Hell, I’m surprised he hasn’t already.
Jack told me to move on. June too. And I have—as far as getting my needs met. I’m fine giving my body, but never my heart. At least not yet. Micah owns the whole of it, and unless that changes, I’ll just be here, living my life as I see fit.
My parents would be bummed if they knew our separation had stretched this long. Mom especially had a soft spot for Micah, and it was mutual. One of his greatest fears about leaving was that he’d be disappointing her too. But she didn’t interfere. In fact, she understood my logic and supported us both. God, I loved her for that.
But Micah’s never far from my thoughts. I seek out his small roles in movies—he’s usually an extra—and his commercial and modeling campaigns. I stalk him on social media because I want him to do well, even if seeing him through a screen makes me ache all over. No way I’d ever want to hold him back. Besides, look what happened to my brother, Jack, when he tried doing the long-distance thing. A clean break became necessary. The fact that we got married on a whim was only incidental, but still, I would never take it back.
“Thanks for the heads-up,” I say as Uncle Chuck guzzles the rest of his beer and stands.
Once he leaves, I finish setting the chairs on top of the tables so I can sweep the floor, my thoughts on a spin cycle about Micah coming home.
Home. No, it’s never felt that way to him. How could it? He was a mess when he arrived in this town, and when working in the fishing industry with his grandfather didn’t pan out, he found something else to ground him in the form of Ms. Hart and the drama department. I like to think I was part of building his foundation, but evidently not enough to anchor him to this town, which, true, offered few opportunities, if any. No, he’s better off where he can bloom.
I scroll through my phone to his number, my fingers hovering over the keys until I finally type: Sorry to hear about your grandfather.
In the end, I don’t send the text. I figure I’ll tell him in person soon enough.
2
MICAH
“I’ll be there in a few hours,” I tell Rosie. I’d pulled into a rest stop for a snack and bathroom break, and now I’m getting back on the road.
My stomach throbs as I think about returning to the town where I spent my formative years. Suppose I should be grateful because it could’ve been so much worse. Grandpa was just as gruff as my father, but he never put his hands on me. Made excuses for my dad’s alcoholic rages, apologized on his behalf for passing on the gene. Apparently, it was the same with his own father.