Serenity Falls(104)

“So, what are you going to do?” she asks, breaking me from my spell.

“I’m going to go to him, and all I can hope for is that he’ll take me back. He will take me back, right?” I ask, scared now that I think of it. What if he’s really done with me, with us? What if I’m not wanted? What if he’s already seeing someone else?

“I can’t answer that, Honey. Just remember what I said about wondering and regret. You’ll never know unless you try.”

“Okay. I’m gonna do it. I’m going to fight for us and see where it takes me.” I shoot up off the bed and square my shoulders as my grip tightens on the phone. Determination surges through me like never before.

“Good. Now, go get your man, and I’ll talk to you soon. Be careful and know that I love you.”

“Thank you and I love you, too,” I reply as I hang up.

I look around at the small room that has been my home for the last year. Now it’s just an empty space with two beds. A part of me feels awful that I never gave my new roommate a chance. One night, she walked in from a long night of partying, and saw me in hysterics. She tried to help me, console me, but I pushed her away. Jenna told me that I could tell her what was wrong, but I snapped and told her there was nothing she could do for me, to leave it be. And she did. After that night, she’s barely spoken a word to me. When she realized that I was making no attempt to be her friend, or even acknowledge her, she quit trying to reach out to me all together. I wish now that I had the opportunity to apologize to her. I know she meant well.

With one last glance around the room, it’s time. Time for me to go home.



Just as I exit onto the interstate, Run by George Strait filters in through my speakers, and the lyrics alone have tears pricking the backs of my eyes. I think about the night that Wes led me into the barn. I love how he always wanted to surprise me with something. I love how, no matter how many times I would ask where he was taking me, he wouldn’t give in. But what he had planned for that night, I wasn’t prepared for. Images of red and white rose petals scattered all over the breezeway floor assault me. The soft, amber glow of candlelight bouncing off the barn walls pulls at my heart. The smell of honeysuckle mixing with the warm, humid, summer air invades my senses. “How did I walk away from the best thing that has ever happened to me?” I ask quietly to no one but myself.

My phone rings and interrupts my thoughts. I pluck it off the passenger seat and see Mrs. Sandy’s name flashes across the screen. In my rush to get out of San Antonio, I didn’t think to call her to get Wes’ address. Thank God, she called me, because if she didn’t, then I would have had to call her, and I’m still not sure whether or not she’ll give it to me. I take a deep breath as I answer her call. “Hello.”

“Oh my gosh, Kenleigh. I have been so worried about you,” she says, relief that I finally answered apparent in her voice.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Sandy,” I reply softly.

“How are you, Dear?”

“Honestly? I’ve been better.”

“I’ve been calling you. You’ve had me and Mr. Will so worried.”

“I know. I’ve just needed—” The sound of a blaring horn cuts me off.

“What was that? Where are you?”

I answer with a sigh. “A horn. Some eighteen wheeler.” I take a deep calming breath, not once, but twice. I do not want to tell her that the tears welling up and clouding my vision almost caused me to slam into the side of a big rig. So many emotions race through me as if I’m sprinting in some damn Olympic game. Fear of not knowing if he’ll take me back, if he’ll crush me as I crushed him, if he’ll slam the door in my face. I’d like to think that he wouldn’t do any of those things. I’d like to say that I have hope that Wes will welcome me back with open arms. But the realist in me isn’t so sure. I want to believe that our love, the love he once said is what happily ever after’s were made of, can withstand anything, but doubt holds me back. Doubt makes me want to turn around and head back to San Antonio and just realize that I had the best summer of my life. It makes me want to count my blessings that I had the opportunity to love someone so much, and in turn, be loved back the same way. But I can’t turn back. I need to know if what we shared really is real, or if it was just some summer romance that in twenty years, I’ll look back and wonder what if. I clear my throat before I ask, “Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything. You know that.”

“Is there any way you might be able to give me Wes’ address, unless he’s at y’alls house?”