Nowhere but Home A Novel - By Liza Palmer Page 0,43
the man I’ve loved since I was five years old. Asking him to turn his back on them would mean eroding the very character that both mystifies me and makes me believe in better things. Maybe if I can believe I’m not my mother, Everett has to learn he’s not his parents.
And maybe I need to let him.
I said I would come back to North Star on my terms. Maybe my terms start right here. With Everett.
“I can’t do this again,” I say.
“What?” Everett says. With the firework spectacular over, the live music has started back up. The citizens of North Star are beginning to wander out into the town square.
“I’m different now. Maybe I was always different, but just—”
“I don’t understand,” Everett says, reaching out to me. I step back. He immediately tenses.
“I didn’t come back here to pick up where we left off.”
“Why did you come back?”
“Because I had nowhere else to go.”
“So you’re off to the next city then,” Everett says, folding his arms across his chest. His chin is high and defiant.
“No, I’d like to stick around and watch you marry another suitable woman who’s not me,” I say, stepping toward him.
“That was a mistake.”
“A mistake I paid for.”
“You’re not seriously insinuating that I wanted that.”
“You’re a grown man, Ever.” His brow furrows and I can tell my offhanded use of his pet name has shaken him.
“A grown man with responsibilities. It was the right thing to do at the time. My father was very clear about that.”
“Always the good little soldier,” I say, my eyes darting around the dark alley.
“It’s probably hard for you to understand what it’s like to have consequences for your behavior, or any responsibilities, for that matter.”
“What?”
“Someone tries to be the boss of you and you what—quit? Get fired? Move on? That’s how it works, right?”
I am quiet. Shaken. The thing about someone knowing you better than you know yourself is that you can’t shut off their knowledge when it hits too close to home. He’s right, of course.
“I never moved on from you,” I say.
“No, you just left,” he says.
“The night before you got married to Laurel. You couldn’t have expected to . . . Could you have watched me walk down the aisle with another man?” I ask, stepping closer.
“No.”
“You broke my heart, Ever,” I say, laying my hand on his chest. He covers my hand with his and holds it tight. He dips his head and can’t look at me.
“I did what was right by my family. You have no idea how . . . I tried to honor the family name. Shit, Queenie—my parents made it perfectly clear that the future of Paragon rested firmly on my shoulders. Dad would never let Florrie near the business, and Gray’s turned into some idiot playboy. And . . . I mean, this all would be a whole lot easier if I didn’t love my parents and love Paragon, but I do.” Everett’s voice catches and he turns away from me. He continues, “But I fell in love with you and I didn’t know how to handle that,” Everett says, pacing around the alley.
“You didn’t know how to handle that? What am I—a disease you caught?”
“What? No!”
“I knew your parents saw me as trash, but I never thought you did.”
“I don’t.” Everett pulls me close and says, “I don’t.”
“Then why do you treat me like I am?” I ask, freeing myself from him.
Everett is quiet. He turns away from my gaze.
“Don’t you think we get to be happy, Ever?”
“We’re happy right now,” he says, kissing me again.
“Are we?”
Our shared pain is palpable and yet I can’t help but hold on to him. Even still.
I continue. “I’m taking a job over in Shine. I’ve decided to stay for a while,” I say.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I want you to stop me from walking away by yelling that you love me. I want you to sweep me up on one of your beautiful Paragon horses and let the entire town see how we feel about each other. I want what I’ve always wanted,” I say, taking his face in my hands.
“Which is what?” Everett says.
“For you to be proud of me, proud of us. I want you to not be able to contain yourself and let everyone know that you’re my man,” I say, and it hurts. It hurts to say it out loud. It hurts to admit it.
“I am your man,” he says, letting his forehead fall onto mine. His