Leon

"I don't doubt, for one second, that you ain't gonna make it," Kit says, tossing back the rest of his whisky. "From the way you played golf back in university, it wouldn't surprise me if you became one of the most well-known professional golf players in the world."

I chuckle and shake my head. After everyone went to bed, Kit and I came back to the carrier house to have a couple of drinks. So far, I've only had a few sips of mine because I've been talking so much. Kit, on the other hand, has had several. I don't think he's going to make it make to the main house. Lucky for him, there are plenty of extra blankets and pillows in the hallway closet.

"Come on, man," I say. "Don't coddle me. You haven't seen some of the other players I'm up against. They are skilful and cunning when it comes to playing the game. Yeah, I'm close, but there are a few more steps I need to take before I can even compare to them."

Kit leans forward, his eyes swimming as he tries to focus his drunken gaze on me. "Alright, Negative Nelly, let's try a little somethin' my mama likes to call positive thinkin'."

I roll my eyes, remembering how many times Kit went through this with me during our university days. His mama must've drilled that saying into his head when he was naïve and small because I heard it over and over again. It was Kit's mantra when we were taking part in tournaments and other activities.

"I'm not being cynical," I argue. I take a small sip of my drink. "I'm simply stating the facts. There are others out there who have the potential of beating me out, Kit." I take another sip, staring out at the rainy weather. We're sitting on the front porch of the carrier house. It doesn't have much of a view, save for the driveway and mountains, but it's nice and cool out here and no one can see Kit and I from the main house.

"Nonsense," he argues. "Leon, man, you're goin' to make it into the PGA tournament. I know you are. Havin' years of hockey behind you helps immensely. You've had years to critique your shot, accuracy, and technique. Trust me, PGA is your next step."

Rather than waving him off, I stare out at the view in front of me, glancing up at the main house to where Liz is probably sleeping comfortably next to James. The thought makes me want to toss back the whole bottle of whisky on the table between Kit and I. It's hard to support her marrying someone else. And the more I spend time around her, the harder it gets. But I know I have to keep fighting the urges to be with her. I'm not here to ruin her marriage. I'm here to apologize and make things right between us. I'm here to right my wrongs and make sure she knows the truth. I just wish she would give me a chance. It's been impossible to talk to her. Whenever we get close to each other, she takes a step back and pushes me away.

Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I see two headlights light up the forest lining the driveway. Kit looks over in the same direction. "Who could be leavin' at a time like this?" he slurs.

"I don't know," I frown, watching the mysterious vehicle. "Isn't that Eliza's truck?"

"I think so," Kit replies. "Where could she be off to at a time like this?"

I suppress an eye roll. This is exactly what Kit does when he gets drunk – repeats himself. I watch as Eliza's truck backs off of the pavement slab and onto the dirt road. The red taillights brighten up the trees behind it, and then the truck is moving forward. In the background, I can hear Kit talking but I'm not paying attention to what he's saying. I've already gotten to my feet and have started rummaging through the pocket of my shorts for my keys. If that's Liz and she's anything like she was when she was a teenager, I know exactly where she's going.

"Bro," Kit says, tugging at my shirt. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," I reply. "Go to bed, Kit. You're drunk."

Surprisingly, Kit slouches in his chair and looks at the empty glass in his hand. "You're right," he sighs. He gets to his feet and claps me on the back. "I'm goin' to bed. Night, man."

I'm thankful Kit is drunk enough to not realize what I'm doing. If he were sober, he would chain me to the couch and tell me to stay put, to not go anywhere near Eliza. But I need to follow her and see what's up. Especially when it's raining like this.

As soon as the taillights disappear down the driveway, I usher Kit into the carrier house and get him set up on the couch. The guy is pretty much asleep before his head hits the pillow. Without gathering anything up, a jacket or a hat, I head outside and jog out to my truck. In an instant, I'm soaking wet. My dripping hair and dampened T-shirt are the last things on my mind, though. Buckling my seatbelt, I start the engine and shift into reverse.

The drive to the diner takes about twenty minutes and it reminds me why I liked living in Whistler so much when I got my driver's license – everything is so close together. In the parking lot, I see Eliza's red truck just beneath the large neon sign that nearly blinds you when you're passing by. The last time I saw this sign, I was leaving town with my parents and heading to the Vancouver airport. Eliza had been with us, sitting in the back seat with me. My mom had sold our car to Eliza's mom, Meghan, since we couldn't take it to St. John's with us and she drove it back that day after she dropped us off. I stared at this neon sign for as long as I could, cementing all the memories I possibly could in my mind.

It was painful to watch the neon sign fade away into the distance, but now I can't decide which is worse: watching it fade away or seeing it again after all these years.

With a heavy ache on my heart, I pull into the nearest parking spot in front of the windows and shift into park, cutting the engine. The headlights go off, as do the indoor cab lights, and soon I'm enveloped by the neon light and pouring rain. Squinting into the distance, through the thin layer of fog, I see Liz sitting at our booth. Seeing her there catches me off-guard and, within the blink of an eye, I can see our childhood playing before my very eyes. And it only intensifies the ache in my heart.

I lean back in my seat, the seatbelt digging into my shoulder as I exhale deeply. It's a relief to see that Liz is okay and eating – I thought that maybe she and James had gotten into a nasty fight or something. But there's still one question in my mind: Why did she come here? Of all the places she could have gone, why here?

I'm surprised she came here, to be honest. I decided to come here because I was running on nothing but a whim. I thought this was the last place she would come considering all the memories we made here when we were kids. But here she is, following old habits; she used to come here all the time when she was upset or something was bothering her. It happened a lot when it had to do with her parents divorcing. She would come here and order a milkshake while sulking in the corner. I always tried to cheer her up as best I could, but she really suffered from the divorce. Which doesn't surprise me – her parents are terrible people. After they separated, they would try to buy Liz; one parent would try to make her like them more than the other. Watching it made me sick.

I watch as Liz pushes away the half-eaten burger and drops her face into her hands. From the rain streaking the window, it's hard to tell what she's doing right now, but it looks like her shoulders are heaving.

A pang of guilt spreads through my gut. I don't know why she's crying, but I'm guessing it has something to do with me. It's at this moment that I realize just how much I fucked everything up by ghosting her for two years. I wasn't in my right mind, but that doesn't mean I had a right to keep everything bottled up and away from her. I thought I was doing her a favour when really, I was hurting her. If I had told her, our story would be a helluva lot different than it is now.

A tear slips down my cheek and I rest my forehead against the steering wheel. I wanted to open up to Liz about what happened to my mom. Every time she called me, I wanted to answer her and tell her everything, pour my heart out. But I was embarrassed. After years of supporting her through her parents' divorce and the lasting effects that she faced, I didn't want to appear as the weak one. I wanted to protect her and continue to be the supportive one; I let my pride get in the way.

Wiping away my tears, I sit up and look at Liz. She's still there, her face in her hands. The half-eaten burger and melting milkshake sit in front of her. Maybe Tenille was right. Maybe I shouldn't have come so soon. With the wedding looming in the distance, Liz is already stressed enough. Perhaps it would have been a better idea to come after the wedding. Or maybe I shouldn't have come at all. Maybe it would have been best to put everything to rest and let her live her life.

Where would that put me, though? My guilt for lying to her is still eating away at me. I was weak and I let my depression get the best of me while Mom suffered and after she died. I pushed people away and didn't accept their support. All of these problems in my life stem from the one decision I made.

But I didn't go through months of therapy to walk away from Liz with my tail tucked between my legs. I healed so I could talk to her. I came back to Whistler so I could remember all the beautiful memories my family and I created. I came here to complete the healing process and make things right.

Staring the truck, I wipe away the rest of my tears and take a deep breath. I also shoot one more glance at Liz. I'll give her a couple of days to recover from the emotional stress she's experiencing, but after that, it's time to get to the point. 

Liz deserves to know what really happened – even if it does hurt her. It's time for me to make up for all the pain I've caused. She'll probably never forgive me for what I did to her, but I'm going to try to fix all of this.

Shifting into reverse, I back out of the parking space and turn onto the main road. I don't think I'll ever be ready for the conversation we're due for, but it has to happen. This drama between us is becoming toxic and I don't want to lose her again. Even if we can only be friends, I want Liz back in my life.