Page 13 of Sparks Still Fly

september, 5 years ago

I saw her today. Granted, it was on a movie screen, and I wasn’t expecting it, but there she was. She looks older, and somehow still so much like the nineteen-year-old girl I met five years ago.

Five years. How has this much time passed already?

My chest ached the whole time she was on the screen. And when she wasn’t, I just kept waiting for the moment she’d be back.

Watching her in a movie was like being in a desert with no water. So desperate for it you imagine a lake in the distance, running toward it like your life depends on it, because it does. But it’s not real. It’s a mirage. There’s no way to quench the thirst, not without the real thing; and I’ve been thirsty for her ever since that night at the beach two years ago.

The only time we talked was when I visited or called Lainey. We never crossed the line into having each other’s numbers or me calling her directly. Lainey was always the buffer, the reason we even got to talk to each other at all.

Now I can’t talk to either of them. Lainey put even more distance between us, as if moving to California wasn’t enough. Ma says she hasn’t been back home. I know just the thought of being in Marblehead probably feels like a dagger in her chest. I can’t shake the feeling that my sister blames me for Dad’s death—that maybe I was the cause of his stroke. And honestly? I don’t think she’s wrong.

Everything has felt wrong these past couple of years. Everything but my decision to move away from ground missions and pursue cyber security, which keeps me away from lengthy overseas deployments and any kind of physical danger. It felt cowardly at first, but I had put in my time. I’d had tough missions, lost friends, and saw some dark shit I do my best not to think about.

Through it all, she was the moon pulling me in like the tides. She was the reason I wanted to stay safe, and now she’s the reason I want to do more with my life. Seeing her make her dreams happen is the next push I need to make myself better. To figure my shit out before I can go back to her with more than an apology and a hope for forgiveness that I know I don’t deserve.

january, 15 months ago

She’s avoided me all week, and I know she knows I’m here. My sister is her best friend. Of course, she knows. Though when I asked Lainey about Maeve, she didn’t say much and told me she’s not getting in the middle and that I “better fucking fix this.” I’m sure as fuck trying.

Maeve hasn’t been around when I’m in the building, and she hasn’t joined Lainey and I on any of our touristy days in London. Not that I expected her to want to come hang out with us, but I’ve been itching to see her. Talk to her. Touch her. I’m fucking terrified of what her reaction will be after all these years, but I need to be close to her.

I know that after years of silence, it’s going to take work, and with the lie I told her that night on the beach, I wouldn’t blame her if she never wanted to talk to me again. But I’m not going to let fear of rejection stop me. I’ll do what it takes to just get to be near her again. It’s all I’ve wanted for years.

Once I left the Marines, I started Aegis with my best friend and fellow Marine, Rafael. He’s been working on the West Coast, growing the personal security side of the business while I stayed on the East Coast running the cyber security wing. Last year, someone made us an offer we couldn’t refuse to buy the cyber software I developed, and we officially shut that part of the business down.

Since selling, I haven’t had much to do, so Rafael invited me to come to London with him, knowing my little sister would be here. Lainey and I just finally sorted through our issues, and it feels good to have finally come clean to her about why I was out of touch for so long.

All that time and space left me convinced that she blamed me for Dad’s death—like maybe the stress of my deployments was too much for him and caused the stroke, but I’ve had doctors and my therapist confirm that it’s not the case. I’m good now, but that shit messed me up for a while.

So here we are. I’ve mended my relationship with my mom and sister, but Maeve is the missing piece. She’s the final piece of this puzzle.

While we’re here, Raf is going to be Maeve’s bodyguard, and I’ll be with her co-star, Adam. Or River. Seems he goes by both names. I’m sure she has feelings about me being here, but the opportunity to contribute to our company, and be close to my sister and, therefore, close to Maeve was just too good to pass up.

We’re meeting at Maeve’s apartment, and I’m nervous as all fuck. I’ve checked out every corner of the building with Rafael, but we have a few things to go over before I’m officially on duty with Adam. The building is very secure, but Maeve has had some fans do really crazy things to get to her lately, so we’re taking extra precautions with both of them, and they’ve been laying pretty low until filming starts.

I know she has some douchebag boyfriend, and I wonder if maybe he’s here, and that’s why she hasn’t been around. He’s a scrawny asshole named Lionel or some shit. I’ve never met him, and I hope I never do, but I’ve seen him in pictures with her. I hate the way he smiles so smugly with her in his arms. Fuck. I can’t think about that now. I gotta get in there and see her. For the first time. In seven years.

I knock twice, then wait a few minutes and listen for any noise. When she doesn’t answer, I assume she’s not here and use the key Raf gave me yesterday. I walk into the apartment as I pull my suitcase in behind me, the wheels loudly moving over the tiled floor.

“Hello?” I hear her voice, and every cell in my body responds. My skin tingles. My heart races. My mouth goes dry. “Is that you, Raffy? I was just—” She stops when she sees me.

Maeve comes into view, and I feel the tide rolling in as I’m again pulled to her. I don’t think, I just do.

In three wide strides, I reach her and pull her up and into me, that lavender smell filling my nostrils, making me feel like I’m finally home. Her arms don’t fully wrap around me, but I feel her hands on my back for a fraction of a second, and the sensation fills me with blind, reckless hope.

“Hey, sunshine.”

She flinches at my use of the nickname, and I feel that hope leak out of me like air in a punctured balloon.

Fuck. This isn’t off to a good start.

When we separate from one another, her face is blank, devoid of emotion. “Hello, Owen.”

She seems to have her mask on, and it feels like we’re back to the first day we met before I flustered her enough to get the facade to come down—before I saw the sweet girl hiding under this veneer of coolness, decorum, and control.

Her arms are crossed across her chest, a clear way to say fuck off with her body.

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