Page 105 of Gone for You

“Go get settled in the cabin. You should have everything you’ll need. I had my cleaning service stock it with some food and drinks while I was gone picking you up.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him, feeling guilty for not only taking over the use of one of his best cabins but also taking up his people’s time just so I’m comfortable.

He rolls his eyes. “Calm down. It’s not much. They tossed a box of granola bars and some apples on the table and threw a case of beer in the fridge.”

“You had me at beer,” I grin.

He leaves me to it as I walk down the path toward my cabin and he heads in the other direction, to his apartment above the lodge.

I unlock the door and shake my head. Box of granola bars my ass.

Fucker put a bouquet of flowers on the table with a balloon that declares he’s thinking of me. He’s probably laughing his ass off right now.

I toss my bags into the one and only bedroom the small cabin has and go back into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I grab one of the beers he was bragging about and walk the few steps it takes to get to the screened-in porch.

Mosquitos can be terrible in Northern Minnesota, especially right around the water, making the screen necessary. I take a seat and pop open the beer, taking a cool, refreshing swig.

Thunder rolls in the distance and the scent of rain hangs in the air, a light breeze blowing through the screen.Heaven. The view from the porch is insane – the lake stretching out as far as I can see, trees and large rocks dotting the shoreline. Dark clouds hang low in the sky as I see the start of a rainstorm begin to dance along the surface of the water.

For the first time in as long as I can remember, I don’t think. I justbe.I watch as the storm moves in and allow the stress to leave my body. It’s so easy to cling onto it like it’s a part of who I am, carrying it with me everywhere I go, that when I do let go, it feels like a tangible part of me falls to the floor by my feet.

The stress of running my own business, keeping people in employment and in an environment that’s safe is a weight that’s never, not for one minute, off my shoulders. Handing the responsibility over to Rex and Penny wasn’t easy but there’s no one else I would trust. I know without a doubt that they’ll treat The Flying Goat as if it were their own.

But the thing that sits far heavier on my mind is Liv. Always Liv.

I down the last of my beer and decide to go for another.

And another.

And…

Another.

Drinking my dinner sounds like the best idea I’ve had for a long time. Well, listening to Rex and coming up here to The Escape to… well, escape, is right up there.

Six beers in and I’m starting to see things clearly for the first time.

I was the worst kind of chump there is. A love-struck chump. I turn my phone over in my hand, considering whether or not I should try to call her one last time. Admit my mistakes.

I drink my seventh and eighth beers and decide it’s the smartest decision ever.

It would be stupid not to, right? I have nothing else to lose at this point. I should have apologized long ago. No, I should have never transferred my insecurities onto her in the first place.

The phone rings three times before I hear a commotion on the other end and a garbled, “Hello?”

It doesn’t quite sound like my Liv’s voice but then again, beer. I look at the screen on my phone to double check that her name is showing. I open my mouth to launch in on the one hundred reasons why she’s wrong only to hear someone shout in the background, “Mom! I told you not to answer my phone!”

“Ouch! You need to cut your damn nails, you scratched my arm!”

“Give me the phone, Mom.”

“Fine. He needs to know the truth. Promise me you’ll tell him the truth,” comes a muffled response. It sounds like she’s talking with her hand covering the phone, but not completely so I can still hear words coming through.

“What truth is that, you crazy woman? I told you there’s nothing and never will be anything between me and Ethan!”

Well, that came out loud and fucking clear. And I know damn good and wellthatwas Liv’s voice.

“Got it,” I respond, not masking my voice in any way — or the anger that hangs heavy. I have no right to be angry. But guess what, beer number nine tells me differently.

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