Page 7 of Sunsets & Slow Dances

“Because Chloe is in the middle of her freshman year of high school. I’m not going to take her out of school and make hermove to Phoenix. Her mom just died, and she doesn’t even know me or Matty. I’m going to stay here so she can finish out the year, and then we’ll figure out what’s best for her.”

“What about what’s best for Matty?”

“Matty’s in first grade. He’s fine. He’s excited to start a new school.”

“You can’t just make that decision. He’s my son, too.”

“You haven’t been home in almost ten months. We’ve been on this call for how long, and you haven’t even asked how he is once,” I pointed out.

“Don’t throw that in my face. I told you I needed time to myself. I’m still his mother.”

“I never said you weren’t.” I could feel my patience being chipped away by the second, and I didn’t want to say something I would regret. “I have to go. We can talk about this later.”

I hung up the phone while she was still talking. I tried Chloe once again, and again it went to her voicemail. I’d already gone by her mom’s place twice, but I figured I’d stop by there again. It seemed like the most obvious place she’d go, which was probably why she wasn’t there.

On the way back to my truck, I walked through the park. There was a group of teens sitting on the fountain; none of them were Chloe, but they could have been her friends. I had no idea. I didn’t know anything about her. I’d tried to figure out who her friends were through her social media, but all of her accounts were private, and she hadn’t accepted me as a friend.

“Hey,” I said as I approached the teens. “Have you guys seen Chloe Marsh?”

The girls shook their heads no, and the guys did a double take.

“Holy shit! Callum Knight.” The lanky kid with braces stood up. I heard you grew up here!”

“Yeah, I did.”

The kid with a red hat pulled out his phone and started filming. “I heard Martinez is coming out of retirement. Are you gonna fight him?”

What was this TMZ in the wild?

“Haven’t heard anything about that.”

I continued on, and as I passed by the large oak at the entrance of the town square, without even consciously meaning to, my eyes dropped to the base, and I saw the C + N with a heart circled around it I’d carved eighteen years ago. I couldn’t believe it was still there.

This entire town was like stepping into a time capsule. Everywhere I looked, there were memories of me and Nadia. We were together for almost ten years. As a teenager, that feels like a lifetime.

Last night, each spot I’d gone to search for Chloe held special significance for us. The pier where we’d met and shared our first kiss on the Ferris wheel. The beach where I’d worked as a lifeguard, and we’d hooked up in the cabana shed after hours. The caves where we’d camped out overnight. The drive-in where we’d lie on the grassy hill beside the parking lot and watch the movies even though we couldn’t hear them before we had cars. The dunes where I taught Nadia to drive using an ATV, and she flipped us…twice.

Then there was the lookout where she told me that she loved me for the first time. I’d been telling her I loved her formonthsat that point in our relationship, but she hadn’t said those words back to me. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing when she finally said those three words, so I asked in disbelief, “You do?” Nadia being Nadia quipped back a sassy, “For now.” It became a running joke. Each time she told me she loved me, she’d always add the qualifier, “For now.” That is until the first time we had sex. I told her I love you; she said it back, and I beat her to the punch saying, “For now.” But she surprised me, shook herhead, and said, “For always.” After that, we always added, “For always” after every declaration of love, signing every letter or text we wrote, or ending every phone call.

I even got the words tattooed on my chest over my heart. She’d never seen it, though, because I got it years after we broke up. I thought about getting them covered up, but since my feelings had never changed, I didn’t see the point.

After trying Chloe’s phone one more time, I got back into my truck, and after driving back by her old house, I was at a total loss of where to look and decided to head back to the farm. I’d been out looking for her the entire night. I’d spent seven hours searching the small town. The parade was going to start in two hours, so I would take a quick shower and then go see if I could find her there.

As I drove back home, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of déjà vu. It was so odd to feel as though nothing had changed, yet everything had. Aesthetically, the town looked exactly like it had when I left. Mature oak and birch trees shaded the streets. Colorful storefronts with striped awnings and welcoming shrubbery flanking the entryways lined the quaint downtown district. Black lantern lampposts every ten feet, with flower beds surrounding their bases and string lights hung between them, completed the small-town aesthetic. I never appreciated this place when I lived here. Growing up here, all I thought about was getting the hell out.

To an outsider, Firefly Island was an idyllic small southern town, with a breathtaking coastline, a charming trolley system that served as island transportation, and a web of picturesque canals and bike paths. To me, it was a suffocating population of less than five thousand that served as a network of spies who watched my every move and reported back to my father, who used the intel to berate me and support his theory that I was a disappointment.

The one upshot of the island was the fact that it drew a half million tourists every year, so there was a constant influx of new faces to disappear in. Firefly was world-renowned for its deep sea fishing, breathtaking beaches that lit up nightly with lightning bugs, a downtown area with both historic and arts districts, the tallest Ferris wheel in the East on Firefly Pier, and Abernathy Manor, an estate that regularly made “The Top Ten Most Haunted Places in The U.S.” lists and had been featured on several paranormal investigation and reality shows. During peak season, it was easier to get lost in the crowds and become more anonymous.

As I pulled into the farm with trees as far as the eye could see, I realized just like the town, I’d never appreciated growing up on a Christmas tree farm. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I could appreciate just how rare and lucky I was to be a part of so many people’s yearly traditions. Every year people came to cut down their trees, drink hot chocolate or cider, or buy one of my mom’s fresh-baked pies. I couldn’t count the number of people who had taken photos, and we’d even had weddings and proposals happen on the farm. But I never cared, because when I saw this place, it represented my dad, a man who I never was good enough for.

A twinge of guilt pinched my chest as I got out of the truck and walked up the wooden steps to the front door. Yesterday was the first time my son had been to the farm. He’d never seen the rows and rows of various pines, cedars, firs, and cypresses. I’d stayed away because of my own issues and deprived Matty of seeing his family legacy in Knight Christmas Tree Farm.

For all the reasons I wanted to leave town, none of them had anything to do with the farm. I loved working the land with my grandfather. Besides the trees, he always had dogs, cats, chickens, at least one horse, and sometimes goats. As an animal lover, it was not a bad way to grow up.

As an adult, I wanted to have pets of my own, but when I was fighting full time, I traveled so much; it wasn’t fair to any pet. Then once I retired, or semi-retired, I was going to get a dog for Matty to grow up with, but Felicityclaimedthat she was allergic.

I turned the doorknob, and before I even stepped inside, I was greeted by Bandit, a four-year-old Border Collie, and Betty Boop, a nine-year-old black long-haired Labrador Retriever. I bent down to say hi to them, and they greeted me with sloppy licks all over my face.

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