Page 14 of Where You Left Me

“Fine,” she says on an exhausted breath, or maybe it’s not exhaustion and she’s just hungover. Maybe it’s a little of both.

We go out the front door and I lock it behind us. There are already people milling about. That’s one downside to a small town. We hurry and climb into my truck before we get noticed by a local.

Mia fastens her seatbelt and I pull the truck onto the downtown street. The country station is playing one of my favorite songs, but I leave the volume low. We don’t speak. Mia’sbreathing is fast and audible next to me. I simultaneously want to know what she’s thinking while not wanting to know.

For a moment, my brain takes me back to a time when Mia and I went everywhere just like this. Her riding shotgun in my old truck beside me, country music playing on the radio, neither of us having to speak. We were content just being together.

But it’s a fucking torturous blast from the past.

I’m reminded how much has changed when I pull into an angled parking spot in front of Base Camp Sports, and I don’t even cut the engine. I used to go inside and say hello to her parents. Mr. C. and I have become even more friendly over the years since working together planning the annual Bikes and Beers. But all that feels different now that Mia is back in town.

She puts her hand on the door handle but doesn’t open it. “I’m sorry I’m such a ball-buster. You don’t deserve it,” she blurts out.

I shrug off her words.

“I appreciate you taking care of me last night. And this morning.”

“Welcome,” I say gruffly.

“I guess I’m mostly mad at myself. Not you. I shouldn’t have had so much to drink. Or told the entire town of Maple Ridge about…the baby.” She trips up a bit on the wordbaby. “I’m sorry.”

“It was bound to come out eventually. And to be honest, I guess I’m a little relieved it did.”

She turns her attention on me, but I can’t look at her or the impending tears will threaten to appear.

I clear my throat. “Losing the baby…our baby was one of the hardest things that I’ve ever gone through. But going through it alone was fucking torturous. You left me to go through it alone?—”

“Jones,” she interrupts me, my name in a whoosh of breath.

“You just…fucking left me.”

Sorrow burns in my throat.

“I was consumed with grief, Jones. I never stopped loving you.” Tears roll down her cheeks and she wipes them away.

The urge to pull her into my arms and never let her go again claws at me. But I resist. Because how can she claim that she still loved me, but she left me anyway?

“Yeah, well, you should’ve stayed. We could’ve gone through it together. How do you not see that that would’ve been better?”

“You might be right,” she says while her eyes continue watering. “But at the time, leaving felt right. I needed to get away.”

“From Maple Ridge?”

“Yes.”

“From me?” I quip, afraid of her answer.

“Yes,” she says louder, but choking slightly on the word. “Because every time I was with you,” she pauses and the pain on her expression aches in my chest. “Every time I looked at you…I saw her.” She sobs harder.

At her words, my heart fucking shatters.

“I couldn’t stand to look at you. It hurt too much.”

I hold up my hand to stop her. I can’t take much more of this. My shoulders heave and tears fill my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

I clear the anguish from my throat. “Me too.” I hadn’t thought of it like that. That seeing me was a constant reminder of the baby we lost. As much as I want to continue hating her for leaving me, I can’t. Because in some fucked up way, I suppose it makes sense.

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