Page 63 of A Fine Line

My feet raced outside as I rushed to my car. If nothing else, I tried. If nothing else, I brought it to their attention. At the very,very least they would know they owed him almost as much as I did.

The door opened behind me but I didn’t slow down, my pink converses taking me straight to my car.

“Win,” I heard a deep voice shout and knew it had to be Adam. “Wait, just one sec.”

I didn’t stop entirely, but my feet did falter. “What?”

“Please, just.” He sighed. “Will you tell Crew I love him? His tone was hushed like he couldn’t bring himself to fully say it. “I don’t say it much, to anyone other than my wife really, but please, just let him know.”

I looked over my shoulder and almost agreed as I saw his grief-stricken face. The creases in his brow, the worry in his eyes. But I straightened back up and locked eyes with him instead.

“Tell him yourself.”

Adam: Hey, call me when you can.

Liam: Did we upset you?? You know you could’ve told me.

Layla: You’re so loved Crew.

Luke: Call me, brother.

Rachel: You’re making my mascara run, you jerk. Call my husband back. WE MISS YOU.

Calla and Nathan Group chat: We’re sorry, Crew.

Marigold: You’re always our Crew, I am so sorry if we made you feel like less.

Winnie talked to them. She had to have. It’s the only explanation for the onslaught of apologies and check ins. And I couldn’t even be mad, because if I had been in her shoes, I would have told her family too.

Mad doesn’t really fit how I felt now though. I didn’t think I had it in me to ever be truly mad at Winnifred Meadows. But maybe…disappointed? Maybe longing? Lost hope in having something more. Lost hope in knowing that I was solidified in this version of myself. The Crew that was at Willow Creek isn’t the same one here, he’s not the same one in his truck, or in mykitchen. I only got that version of myself with Winnie or at her family’s farm. And my hopes of recovering him was lost.

I briefly wondered if Winnie told them about my ADHD. If they felt weird about it. Or worse: pity. It’s not a big deal in the grand scheme of life. You get on medicines, you try new cures, things move on and eventually you settle into the fact that you’re just like this and that it’s fine.

But I guess it was the fact that it solidified everything I used to wonder I was different than everyone else in this family.

I assumed the texts still kept coming, probably some from Winnie too. I wouldn’t fully know though, considering I was in the Tyler State Park, in my field with no signal, laying back on a blanket with dry grass poking through the threads.

Funny, how tiny this place felt compared to the fields of the farm. Acres and acres piling up on each other, rows of fresh flowers, pumpkin patches, bake houses, and cattle. A creek to jump in when it’s too hot. A house to warm you when it’s too cool.

Winnie must have thought it was absurd. My silly little city-boy spot that was my escape. It wasn’t ruined, it still helped. But it wasn’t there either. And it wasn’t her.

Leaves rustled behind me, and my shoulders jumped when I heard a familiar voice say, “Can I sit with you?”

He turns around and Winnie is right there, looking like sunshine itself. The strings of light in the trees glow through her auburn hair, her face golden and bright and never any less beautiful than she had been before, despite the watery eyes and flushed cheeks. If anything, she was even better in this light. Always so pretty.

I didn’t answer, but scooted a couple feet over, my leg resting on the edge of the blanket for her.

“I was worried about you.” She sat on the blanket, the cuts in her jeans drew attention to her smooth pale legs, and I had to force my eyes away. “You didn’t answer any of my calls.”

“Don’t have signal.”

In the corner of my eye, she nodded. “That’s what I hoped when I came here.”

We sat in silence for a moment; nothing but us and the breeze, the discolored leaves falling sporadically around us, a bird or two chirping and rusted of the bushes around us occasionally. I felt her scoot in a little closer to me, inching in almost to my side. I met her halfway, the ends of our pinkies curling over each other in a light, warm caress.

“You know I didn’t want to hurt you. Or your feelings. I just couldn’t find the right time.”

I shook my head. “No, I get it. It’s okay, really.”