Eversea A Love Story

my fists. “But I’ll be okay. Not right now. But I will.” And so I’d keep telling myself until I actually believed it.
    We climbed out of the truck and headed up the porch steps.
    With his hand on the railing, Joey stopped and looked about him a moment before fixing his eyes on me. “Okay, kiddo, one last thing. Don’t wait on me. Please. Go ahead and look into some colleges or art schools, maybe even do something online for now. We can deal with the loans later. And fuck the town, they can just freakin’ wait on the house. This is your life we’re talking about.”
    I smiled and wrapped my arms around him. “I’ve been thinking the same, I just wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it.”
    “Damn, I’m sorry,” he said into my hair. “We should’ve done that all along. Somehow, we should have figured out a way. I’m so sorry.”
    I hugged him tighter. “Stop apologizing. We did it the way we had to. And to be honest, I feel more focused now, more sure of what I want to do and study. I didn’t feel that before. I always thought I should do a safe degree, but now I know I should follow my dreams. And at least I have a clearer idea of what my dreams are. I got lost for a while, I think.”
    Joey let me go and walked inside. He returned a few minutes later with two frosty glasses of sweet tea, and we sat on the top step of the porch in the fall breeze to enjoy the last hour of his visit together. It was cut short by two things, Jazz showing up and my phone buzzing a text.
    I pulled it out of my back pocket, and upon seeing Jack’s moniker; Late Night Visitor, lost all my carefully smoothed out nerves. Breathing through the rolling wave of dizziness, I swallowed and read the words.
    Late Night Visitor: I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I was last night. I’m sorry for taking something from you I’ll never be able to give back. I’m sorry I am telling you this by text. I’m just ... sorry. You deserved so much more than me.
     

 
    T H I R T Y – F I V E
    Six Weeks Later
    I was sitting out on the front porch swing and enjoying my coffee and Mrs. Weaton’s biscotti the morning of my birthday. She made it with salted caramel chunks. It was pretty spectacular.
    Joey was due home later, having started coming home every other Saturday when his schedule allowed it, and today was no exception. He’d decided I needed a birthday party, which I’d vehemently opposed, refusing to change my shift schedule at the grill. Now it was happening anyway, and Brenda was coming in so I could clock out early and join the festivities at my house.
    I pulled my sweater a little tighter around my body against the chilled breeze that had swept over the island, just as a sleek dark car pulled into the driveway and purred to a stop under the Live Oaks.
    Colt had taken to coming over when Joey was home, although he never usually arrived so early. I couldn’t help smiling when the door to his midnight blue BMW opened and several brightly colored balloons erupted out of the car and floated up into the Spanish moss-draped branches.
    “Shit!” I heard, followed by several grunts. A pair of legs emerged, and finally Colt’s body fought through the rainbow. “Sorry,” he said, clutching the rest of the strings tightly in his fist, wrestling the bunch into submission. “I guess I lost a few.”
    My smile broke into laughter at the devastated look on his handsome face.
    “Happy birthday,” he said sheepishly. He leaned back into the car with his other hand and brought out a huge bouquet of white lilies. Oh. I kept the smile plastered to my face and tried not to let my nervousness show at his romantic birthday gifts.
    Taking a deep breath, I left my spot on the swing and came down to meet him. “Thank you,” I said, reaching for the flowers. “They’re beautiful. Let’s get them in water. You want some coffee?”
    He gave me a rueful smile and tugged the front of his hair. “Yeah, that would be great.”
    Inside, I poured us both some coffee and placed the flowers in the sink filled with water while I hunted out a vase. I couldn’t remember the last time I used one. Colt tied the balloons to a kitchen chair and trotted back outside to bring in a bunch of beer and drinks he’d brought for the party.
    “Is there anything I can help with today,” he asked, coming back in and setting the boxes down on the counter.
    I put the beer away in the fridge. “No, I think we’re good. I have to finish up a bunch of tuition