Soundtrack for this chapter:
What I've Done—Linkin Park
Sober Up—AJR
Whatever it Takes—Imagine Dragons

22

Theo

I woke with a violent shake.

I hadn't had a nightmare like the one I'd just woken up from in weeks; those nightmares had ceased the moment Jules told me she loved me.

I felt the hole in my chest, felt the blood seeping through my clothing, dripping off my fingers. I saw Gabe; he'd never been so clear in my dreams before.

Jules.

I was so angry with her. Angry because she lied to me. Angry because she didn't trust me. Angry because I wasn't sure exactly who it was that I was deeply and maddeningly in love with.

She drove me fucking crazy.

With a forceful push, I got myself out of bed and pulled out the first t-shirt my fingers could find in my dresser. When I yanked her...my Celtics shirt from the drawer, something clanked to the floor: my tags.

I stared into the ceiling. Don't fuck with me, Gabe.

The metal tags felt cool in my hands as my thumb swiped over the stamped letters and numbers. I thought about the last time something like that happened, and the images and emotions came sweeping back.

It was just a few months after everything had happened overseas, and I was still so pissed off about so many things. I couldn't play the drums. I couldn't rejoin the army. I never even had the chance to go to Gabe's funeral. It was the dead of fucking winter. There was that dirty slush of snow covering all of Boston. Mom's garden was beyond dead, everything dry and brown.

And I was just sitting there on grandpa's bench, and everything hurt so much and everything brought me unquantifiable frustration and I started thinking about the bar dad kept. He always had tons of alcohol, the expensive shit, gifts from his partners at the firm. And I just thought that maybe, maybe if I could numb some of what I was feeling, maybe if I could just erase the last six months of my life, I would feel a little better.

And just as I pushed myself up from the bench, my eyes caught a small glimpse of blue among the grey and brown swirl of our yard. I walked towards the new color, and I found myself peering at a tiny cluster of forget-me-nots peeking out of the snow.

I knew it was him. I don't know how, but I did. Some things don't need explanations.

It had been almost seven years since Gabe's last appearance, and I figured he felt like he was due for a visit.

With the tags strung around my neck, I pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and left the house.

The car felt like it was on autopilot, like it knew exactly where I needed to go. Less than ten minutes later, I was parked in front of St. Christopher's.

Inside the church, the memorial candles were blazing away. I put a few dollars in the collection jar and lit one for Gabe.

Then I sat. I sat in the last pew and closed my eyes and tried to feel something, anything, that would tell me what I needed to do about Jules. When that didn't work, I pulled the kneeler down, kneeled on the cushioned bar, and rested my head in my hands. It got to the point where I didn't even know what I was praying for anymore: guidance? insight? peace?

My head wasn't feeling any clearer, and I was beginning to think I misjudged what I'd needed when I felt a hand on right shoulder.

"Can I join you, son?"

Father Davies, without his arm brace, smiled down at me.

"Oh, er, of course, Father."

I sat back on the bench and slid down the pew. Father Davies slid in beside me and studied my face.

"You've lived a lot in your twenty-nine years, Theo."

My head shook of its own accord. "Could have lived a much worse life."

"I had the feeling you were going to say something like that. What's going on? What brings you to church at eight in the morning on a Thursday?"

I ran my hands over my face. When they were finished, they rested on the back of my neck.

"Trying to seek some guidance. I'm not sure God's listening at the moment."

"He's always listening, Theo. Maybe you just need someone to translate for you. What do you need guidance with?"

I couldn't lie to him; he was a priest. "You've seen me here with a young woman a few times, right?"

"Ah, yes. Jules, isn't it? Your mother speaks of her often."

"Yeah. Mom's pretty wild over her. I am...was...too. I guess I still am. It's kind of a long story. Anyways, I found out that she's been lying to me about something, and it wasn't even something all that important. Had she just told me about it, we could have talked it out. But that one lie made me wonder if she's been hiding other things from me."

Father Davies gave a slight nod of his head. "Yes, lying can be a slippery slope. Deception has the power to destroy many things."

"I, I don't necessarily believe she had malicious intentions. Other than this, she's been pretty open with me, at least, I think she has." Were there other things she'd confided in me that were lies? My palms were suddenly sweaty, and I rubbed them against my jeans.

"I can see the wheels churning in your mind, Theo. You're questioning everything she's told you. Deception is a powerful tool."

My head shook back and forth. "No, I don't think so. I don't think she would lie about everything, some of her actions have proved to me that things she's told me must be true." I began ticking through different stories Jules had told me about her family. I remembered her reacting so strongly against me worrying about her, about me getting upset with her for not texting or calling me back; she wouldn't have responded in that way if her parents hadn't tried to control her for her entire life.

"I see. Theo?"

I looked at Father Davies.

"I'm guessing the last conversation you had with her didn't go very well."

"I wouldn't exactly call it a conversation."

"Okay. Are you also at fault at all in this issue?"

"I...I may have said some less than kind words to her."

"And was that the best way to handle the situation?"

"Father, I was angry, I was hurt, I—"

He put one hand on my shoulder. "Love one another as I have loved you. God doesn't want to hear your excuses. He wants you to make things right. He wants you to be kind to others, to help others, to show others the forgiveness He shows all of us. Now, I fully agree with you that Jules may have been in the wrong, but you need to ask yourself if you're willing to hear her out, if you're willing to ask her to be honest with you, if you're willing to offer her forgiveness."

Was I?

"Or, maybe this is God's way of showing you that she isn't the one for you. Are you ready to walk away from her?"

Not a chance in hell. "I can't throw away the last few months I've had with her. I don't think I'm ready to let her go."

"Then don't. Give her a second chance, as God constantly gives us."

That was all I needed to hear. "Thank you, Father Davies. You've helped me sort through a lot that I wasn't able to on my own."

"Anytime, Theo. I'll see you on Christmas."

I reached forward and shook Father's hand. On the drive home from the church, Jules filled my thoughts. I didn't know how I was going to approach her when she came back from Savannah, if she came back at all. She'd come back. She had to. Right?

I thought back over the words I'd said to her the night before; I'd intended for them to cut her down, and I hit my target easily. I hadn't meant most of what I'd said, but I wanted her to hurt like I was hurting. I wanted her to question the person she'd committed herself to as I was questioning everything I believed about her.

If I were her, I wasn't sure I'd be so happy to come back. I told her she didn't give a fuck about our relationship. I told her she hadn't changed at all since leaving Savannah. I told her she was exactly like her shitty parents. I told her we were a waste of time.

And before I knew it, I was parked in my driveway, my fists pounding against the cold leather of the steering wheel. Why was I such a fucking idiot when it came to women and relationships and Jules?

I had to do something; sitting idly by had never been in my nature.

Inside the house, I called out to Dan the moment I stepped through the door and nearly smacked right into him.

"Whoa, T, what's going on?"

"I need you to get online and find me a flight to Savannah."

"What?"

"Just do it. I'll pay you back. I need to be there by tomorrow."

"Okay, okay. What's going on?"

"No time. I need to find the name of some estate down there."

I jogged up the stairs and opened the laptop on my desk. What the fuck was the name of the place where her parents were throwing that party? Mount...mount something. No. Not mount. Hill? Wasn't hill in the name?

I typed "Savannah estate hill" into the search box of my web browser, but all that came up were listings for different properties to buy. I closed my eyes, trying to remember the name of the place Jules' family's party was going to be. Dan's presence in my room snapped me out of my thinking.

He stood in my doorway, laptop in hand. "There's a flight tomorrow, late morning, would get you there around 3 PM."

"Done. Book it, please."

"It's pretty expen—"

"Don't care. I'll cut you the check before I leave."

He flashed me a thumbs up and trailed back to his room.

I stared at the blank search bar; then, it hit me. I typed "Jules Calhoun Savannah Christmas Party" and I suddenly learned that Jules came from a much more prominent family than I could have imagined.

There were articles from local news sources citing previous Calhoun Christmas Parties, and one click was all I needed to confirm that it was Jules' family. In the photo at the top of the article stood the two people I assumed to be her parents, accompanied by Jules and the man who, I could only guess, was once her husband. Jules was smiling in the picture, but it wasn't a smile I'd ever seen from her. Anyone who gave a damn about her would be able to tell it was fake. There was a sadness in her eyes, too. I looked at the date of the article; it was published just about two years earlier.

I scanned the article looking for the name of the venue, but when I found it, it didn't sound familiar at all. Back towards the top of the article, I noticed a hyperlink after Jules' name, which, for the record, was not Jules Calhoun, but Jules Buchanan.

I couldn't stop myself; who could? I clicked the link, and I was immediately faced with a picture of a twenty-two year old Jules, in the grandest wedding gown I'd ever seen, smiling a true and genuine smile, the only smile I'd ever seen on her, standing next to her husband, a man by the name of William Buchanan. And then I found it.

The first line of the article read "Julianne Calhoun, daughter of well-known Savannah businessman Thomas Calhoun, wed William Buchanan, son of prominent investment banker Davis Buchanan, last Saturday at the Manorhill Estate in Savannah, Georgia."

I'd deal with the torrent of emotions seeing Jules in a wedding dress next to another man brought later. I had the place, I had the flight, and I had the unsettling feeling that I was going to come face to face with William Buchanan before my stay in Savannah ended.

A/N: Hi!

Ahhhh so close! I've had some of these scenes in my head for so long, and then some of them hit me out of nowhere, and I wish I could cram more hours into the day so I could get more chapters to you quicker.

Anyways, I love you and I love Jules and Theo and Elle and Jude and wow this last month of my life has been insane. I think October 2017 is going to go down as one of my favorite months of my life.

Please vote and comment and chat with me. I'm so so so happy to be back!

Have a lovely week,
L