Without You

8. A Familiar Face

Taking another sip of coffee, Lindsey breathed deeply. He was leaning against his car hood, taking the opportunity to not be stuck in the vehicle for the umpteenth time this week. Fingers tapping rhythmically against his thigh, he fought the anxiety building up inside him.

At Riley's suggestion, he had found a small bed & breakfast to stay in for the night. Lying in bed, however, he had barely gotten a wink of sleep. Could it really be Stevie? Would it be? And if so, then what? He had dealt with an unimaginable amount of pain and guilt these past few years, had almost drank himself into an early grave. The idea had even possessed appeal in the deaths of mind, in the hope he might find her on the other side of whatever awaited them. But now—that she had somehow done this intentionally? Willingly abandoned him to his grief and despair knowing how hard it would hit him. Never in a million years would he have imagined Stevie capable of something like this. Did she really hate him that much? The possibility haunted him.

He was distracted from his thoughts by the sound of jangling keys. Looking up from the concrete, he found Riley testing the keys to open the store.

"It's definitely one of these five. Oh. Maybe I confused that one with..." the teenager muttered to himself before finally getting the door open. He rummaged through some drawers behind the register before walking back outside.

"You ready?" He asked, car keys dangling from his fingers.

Nodding, Lindsey threw out the cold coffee as the old van sputtered to life.

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He followed Riley up the winding mountain roads for about forty minutes. Eventually, the boy parked on the side of a street behind some oleander bushes, signaling him to do the same.

Lindsey met him at the trunk of the van, taking the paper bags from him with a nod.

"Usually someone just rings the doorbell," Riley reminded him as he got back into the car. Lindsey waved, groceries in hand, as he drove away. Walking around the tall bushes, he finally glimpsed the property and was immediately struck by its fanciful quality. Flower boxes decorated the front windows of the house, and the small garden was littered with wind chimes and glass ornaments in addition to seemingly every flower imaginable. If there was any doubt before...

Strolling up the small path, he stepped onto the porch, depositing the bags as instructed. With a deep breath, he pressed gently, ringing the doorbell. Stepping off the porch, he stood behind one of the pillars of the front landing. Suddenly filled with doubt, Lindsey became convinced he was now trespassing on some retired couple's property. Maybe it's just some older lady who can't leave the house, Stevie's not the only eccentric person in the entire world. Now you're probably going to be shot by some–

The sound of the lock turning brought him back to the present, his eyes glued to the slow movement of the wooden door.

It was like seeing a ghost. 

His mind, raging with doubt only moments ago, was sudden devoid of thought. Drawn towards her by instinct, he stepped back onto the porch as she bent to retrieve the groceries he had just placed at her door. Startled by the wood creaking under his weight, she glanced up, meeting his gaze. Those brown eyes were unmistakable.

"Lindsey?" She gasped, forgetting entirely about the bags at their feet as she stood up, eyes wide and mouth open in pure shock. 

He stepped closer as she remained frozen in the doorway. His fingers reached out, afraid to touch, before making contact with her warm skin, smoothing gently along her hairline. She held her breath as he tucked a loose strand of straight brown hair behind her ear.

No blonde waves in sight, Stevie looked as she had the day he first met her. 

Choking on a tearful breath, she smiled at him, and he realized he was already crying. Grasping her face in his hands, he leant down as their lips met for the first time in years. The kiss quickly gained urgency as his fingers knotted into the hair at the base of her skull and fisted the fabric of her pale lavender dress against her back, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck. 

He couldn't think. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh, cry, or scream. The smell of her hair, the feel of her in his arms, it was all too much. Because she made you think she was dead.

The thought launched him back into reality, and he pulled away suddenly from the kiss. Unaware of the dark turn his thoughts had taken, she smiled up at him in awe. 

"I can't believe—how are you here?" she murmured happily. 

"Me—Stevie, how are you here? I-I watched them bury you and now–" he exclaimed, torn between fury and crisis. 

"It's...complicated."

"Oh, really? Well I hope it is. Because for some reason, I was under the impression that you stopped breathing three years ago. Could you perhaps share why exactly that is?"

"Lindsey, could you not be condescending for two seconds?"

"Oh so, you do remember my name. That's comforting considering you clearly have no regard for me or my feelings whatsoever."

"Just stop it!"

"Sure, whatever you want. Maybe I'll fake my death too so you never have to hear a word from me again."

Face falling into her hands, she smoothed them over her cheeks before looking back up at him.

"What do you want to know?"

"What do I–Stevie. Everything! I don't even know what the fuck is happening right now!" He raged, gripping his hair in frustration. Approaching him slowly, she smoothed her hands along his arms in a calming motion. When he didn't push her away, she grasped his face, tilting his head down to meet her eyes.

"I know. I'll tell you everything, okay? Anything you want to know." She soothed, leading him to a small sun room. Gesturing for him to sit down on the small couch, he instead chose the armchair directly across from it. She huffed in exasperation, but made no comment.

"Are you hungry? Do you want food, water, anything?" She offered politely.

"Just some answers." Sighing, she sat down on the couch in acceptance.

"Well, then—have at it."