Page 113 of Unstable

KEATON

I KNEW THE DAY that my Henny told me Gatlin was leaving signified a phenomenal step in the right direction for our relationship. One that honestly, I never really believed, or let myself believe would ever really happen…for fear of devastation when and if I found out I was wrong.

So I forced myself to play it close to my chest, waiting for the day he’d come back and she’d turn to him once again.

But he’s not coming back, I know that now for sure. Henley needs, wants, me by her side, no matter the circumstances.

Having reconfirmed it, with those words of pure conviction sliding past her sweet, pink lips, while dealing with the death of Bourbon, she just erased any shred of doubt still lurking in the very back of my mind.

Every errand I’d ran, that I was nervous may have been premature, I now know was done right on time. My girl had no doubt or hesitation in her voice or beautiful eyes when she told me…I’m her listening ear, her rock she knows she can lean on…her man. Erasing any of my doubt.

I’m her chosen partner in life.

And Lord knows, I choose her right back.

Do you know how hard it is to sit down and pretend to talk to someone who’s not there? Fake a handshake with nothing but air?

I do, because the night I was invited in to meet, shake hands with, and have a seat to get to know Gatlin…there was no one else in the room besides me and my Henny.

Not gonna lie, at first I was more than a bit freaked out, severely worried about my girl, but I went along with it that night, and every other time she said his name, because I love her. I love her so much that whatever headspace she’s living in, I’m living there too, with her.

I meant it when I swore to never be apart from her again.

I did some research and made a phone call to a guidance center, posing as a concerned parent, and got some answers I could live with. Gatlin was just a manifestation Henley had conjured up as a coping mechanism. In simple terms, an imaginary friend. To help her deal with her pain, guilt, someone to talk to. Born of the acute memories all attacking her at once with her return home.

And yes, I’d been jealous of her male apparition—because real or not—I wanted to be the one she talked to. But I held on, waiting for her to choose me and send him away, which she’s now done.

I’d never tell her, because I know my girl, and she’d go back to thinking she’s crazy, constantly looking over her shoulder just waiting for someone to send her away again.

Over my dead fucking body.

I don’t think she mentioned him to anyone else, but if it ever does come up? I’ll look that person in the eye and vouch for his existence like I’m quoting the Psalms. No one is messing with my girl ever again.

I love her sane, crazy, mad, happy…every single nuance that makes up my Henny.

Yet part of me wishes there was a way to tell her, because then she’d know exactly how resilient and strong she really is. She fixed that fence, took care of the horses, loaded those calves and went to a sale—all by herself. She faced the memorial, church and graveside services for her mom alone. She thought he was there helping her, but no, my baby did all that on her own.

Henley Gene Calvert will never know just how much of a fighter she is…and that part’s a shame. But I know how amazing she is, always have, and will find other ways to tell her as much every day.

And with this, our last night in her house, my plans and her declaration couldn’t have met up at a better time. The Kings are ready to move in and my house is ready for us. Honestly, I replaced more than I probably needed to, but any woman I’d ever had there had been so brief and meaningless, which I’d feel bad about had they not known the score upfront, I wasn’t even sure of the “safe” and “not safe” areas and furniture—so I changed it all.

Absolutely worth every penny though. Now I know, everything Henny and I do, anywhere in our home will be a first.

I’ve waited a lifetime, literally, to connect my present, future and forever to Henley’s. The two of us, one existence. And tonight, I ask her if she truly wants the same thing as much as I always have.

HENLEY

AS PROMISED, KEATON “SHOWED” me twice, once slow and gently, the other crazed and beastly, how much he liked what I said to him, then fed me—which sent me straight into a nap.

Apparently a long one, ‘cause when I sit up and stretch, I can see it’s dark outside.

I get up and search the house for him, coming up empty. No sexy cowboy, no note…but his truck is out front. Weird.

Even more strange, from somewhere in the house, “A Thousand Years” by Christina Perri starts playing.

What the hell?

I follow the sound of the song that I personally love, but have no clue why I’m hearing it. It leads me to my phone and seeing Keaton’s name on the screen, I answer amidst my sheer bafflement.

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