Page 12 of Winter Memories

“Bad moms don’t worry about whether they’re screwing their kids up or not. They only care about themselves. You are not a bad mom, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get things wrong. That’s life.”

Even though I didn’t feel very reassured at the time, I’ve often thought back to that conversation and found solace in it. Now that I’m back home, I feel better about the whole thing. I should have come back to Wintervale the moment David abandoned us.

I had to force myself to be present with Macklin the rest of the day, which made me feel like shit because he deserves more than my mind being filled with visions of Fletcher. After getting him to bed, I tried to get some work done which just ended up looking like shit. Face planting into bed felt like the only thing left to do. I was resigned to close my eyes and will the crappy day away. I hoped things would look better in the morning.

And now I’m being woken up by phantom sounds right out of my past.

Just when I’m about to lay back down and snuggle into my bed, the tapping starts again and this time I’m sure it’s not my mind playing tricks on me. I stand up and hurry over to the window, a familiar feeling of anticipation filling me. It’s like I’m 16 again and afraid my parents are going to hear Fletcher at my window.

When I pull back the curtains, the soft light from the moon illuminates the man outside just enough to confirm that it is, in fact, Fletcher. My heart and mind are racing.

I didn’t think I’d see him so soon after our awkward as hell afternoon. I definitely didn’t think he’d show up at my window tonight. Not after the way he walked away from me.

My window makes a soft squeaking noise as I pull it open and wince. I glance over my shoulder, expecting my parents to bust into my room. It’s a holdover fear, the same one I had every time Fletcher would tap on my window in high school.

“I’m coming in, Eden,” Fletcher’s voice is gruff, and I take a step back at his implied directive.

Watching him pull himself up and into my room probably shouldn’t be as much of a turn on as it is, but his arms bulge, even though he’s wearing a coat. Poor coat didn’t know its seams would be threatened tonight. His boots sound loud in the quiet of the room when they hit the floor before Fletcher stands to his full height.

His eyes are intense as he glances around the room. Nothing has changed since I was in high school. It felt kind of like stepping into a time capsule when I first arrived here. I figuredI’d change things up over time and one thing I was not expecting was Fletcher to be in this room again.

“It’s a little weird, right?” I break the silence between us and gesture around the room.

“Brings back some damn good memories,” his voice is thick, and I have to look away from him.

Awkwardness wraps around me as I fidget with my fingers and then tuck my hands behind my back and then put one on my hip. What the hell do you do with your hands when your ex is standing in your childhood bedroom after so long?

I shift from one foot to the other as Fletcher takes a step closer to me. Staring at the floor seems like a great fucking idea right now. As curious as I am to watch Fletcher, to soak him in after all this time, I can’t seem to look at him.

“Shooting Star,” he murmurs and pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger to tilt my head up. His eyes are so dark as he stares down at me, and I have to swallow hard because there are so many emotions there.

Hearing his nickname for me, the one that always made me feel seen and cherished, after all this time causes something to crack deep in my soul while something else heals. I never thought I’d hear him call me that again. There were so many nights, so many moments, when I wished I could hear him call me that sweet name just one more time.

Those wishes never came true.

But here he is now. In my room and looking at me in a way that has tears pooling in my eyes. I blink a few times because I don’t want to cry. Not now. Not in front of him.

“I’m sorry I just walked away from you this afternoon. I shouldn’t have, but I was thrown for a loop at seeing you. I had no idea you were back in town, and I wasn’t prepared,” his voice is full of sincerity.

I nod as much as I can with the way he’s holding my chin. “I wasn’t prepared to see you either,” I admit softly. The words tumble from my lips without wanting them to, “I never let my parents tell me about you. I was sure it would hurt too much, but now I have so many questions.”

He swallows hard and nods slowly. “What do you want to know?”

So many questions swirl through my head. All the questions I’ve been torturing myself with for years. I’m not even sure where to start.

“Are you happy?”

Even with everything else I want to know, somehow, it’s the most important question of all. I’ve hoped so many times over the years for Fletcher’s happiness. That he wasn’t burdened by the responsibility of Limitless. That he was able to find some solace in the life he was living.

Fletcher’s mouth turns down in a frown as his eyes search mine.

“I’m not sure how to answer your question, Eden,” he mumbles and my heart sinks.

Did we give each other up, do what we thought was right at the time, and not have much to show for it other than memories that slice like the sharpest blades and a whole ton of regret?

Fletcher clears his throat and releases my chin. The loss of his touch, of his warmth, has the ever-present ache in my chestdeepening in a way that takes my breath away. I want him to touch me again; I crave it.

“Limitless is thriving,” he begins, trying to answer my question. “I,” he shifts from one foot to the other, something he always did when he was nervous, “tried to move on, you know?” I nod even though my mouth is dry, and my throat is closing up because I desperately don’t want to hear about him moving on from me. Should it still hurt after all this time? “It never worked.” He looks away, something fierce and determined in his gaze when he looks back at me. “They were never you.”

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