Page 54 of Versions Of Us

“Put me down!” I yell, although I know that at this point it’s useless.

He strides toward his car, pulls open the passenger door, then gently lowers me to the ground. He holds his arms out around me, one resting on the open door, the other on the back passenger door to block me in. His eyebrows are raised in defiance. He has me trapped and he knows it.

I groan and then surrender, climbing into the passenger seat. I consider jumping out as he rounds the back of the car, but I know my efforts would be futile. There’s no way he’ll leave me out here and, although I’d never admit it to him, I’m relieved that he came along.

And that relief has everything to do with the fact that I’m no longer caught in a rainstorm ten kilometres out of town and nothing to do with the heat that radiates from him as he climbs into the driver’s seat. Nor does it have anything to do with the familiar scent that fills his car or the way his eyes travel from my dripping wet hair to the water that clings in beads to my chest.

His car is cleaner than I remember it, apart from a couple of cherry ripe wrappers scrunched up on the floor. A brand-new iPhone sits on the dash, still in its box.

Henley leans forward, stuffing the key in the ignition. He pauses, leaning back into the seat. A long sigh escapes him, and I dare a sideward glance. I’ve never seen him look so worn, so defeated.

I no longer see the fun-loving party boy I fell in love with all those years ago. I see a man exhausted, tired from carrying a load that’s too much for him to bear.

Where have you been, Alex?

I tell myself I don’t care. That whatever has happened to him is a result of a poor choice that he made. But still, a large part of me is curious about what has swallowed his light.

“Are you going to drive?” I say impatiently. “I don’t want to be in this car any longer than necessary.”

He looks over at me. For a second, I think he’s going to come back with something witty like he would have done in the past, but his eyes go back to the road. He’s hollow. He doesn’t even have a comeback left in him. He turns the key. The engine roars to life.

We drive in silence, his gaze steady on the road in front and mine on the rain-soaked passenger window, a blur of green grass and grey skies flying past.

When we reach my apartment building, he pulls over on the curb, gently shutting off the ignition. I pause and turn to look at him, my hand firm on the door handle.

“Why can’t you just tell me where you went?” I don’t really expect an answer, though I ask anyway.

He still can’t look at me. Can’t or won’t, it doesn’t matter.

A loud clap of thunder roars from the sky and he flinches, his shoulders lifting, eyes shut tight. It’s so unexpected and out of character for him, it has my forehead crumpling in confusion.

He inhales a sharp breath and turns to me, his eyes travelling over my face. “I’m sorry,” he says in a low voice.

I’m reminded of the conversation I had with Chase earlier.

I’m not even sure I’m the reason he came back.

But now, I am sure.

Disappointment seeps into my veins, pushing away every trace of hope as I come to the realisation that although he has returned to Cliff Haven, Henley never had any intention of returning to me.

I’ve pictured the moment I’d see him again so many times and there isn’t a scenario where I haven’t imagined him grovelling at my feet. Begging me for another chance. But he made the decision to give up on us.

He’s here and he isn’t fighting for me.

There’s no fight left in him at all.

Chapter 23

HENLEY

Kristen slams the car door and stalks off to her apartment, her hair thoroughly soaked and clinging to her damp shoulders. The way she hugs herself with her head bowed to the ground breaks me. All I want to do is scoop her up into my arms and tell her she’s everything to me.

But she isn’t mine anymore and that reality hits me like a kick to the gut.

She isn’t the same anymore either. Another thing I wear the blame for. This bitter, scorned version of her, filled with angst, is one of my own creation.

Life has a way of fucking people over, but I can’t blame my problems on circumstance. It’s easy to believe that our fate is in the hands of someone else, but at some point, we need to stand up and take some responsibility.

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