Forgotten

Lainey POV By the next Saturday, things were good. I mean that. Travis and I had talked more in six days than we had in six months. He told me about Dale and the hospital over breakfast. I told him about the bar, and he listened to most of it. We smiled at each other across the kitchen. He kissed me goodbye at night like he meant it, and he kissed me hello in the morning. We still hadn't had s*x. Neither of us had tried again since the night of the trash cans. That was okay. We were happy, and I had decided the rest would come. It was pouring when I got ready for work. "I'm going to take the car," I called. "I need it, babe. I've got to pick up a few things." Travis was already reaching for the keys. "I'll drop you off and come get you at close." "At two in the morning?" "I work nights. That's lunchtime for me." So he drove me. It took five minutes. I kissed him across the console, ran for the green door with my jacket over my head, and thought, See? This is what it's supposed to be like. Beck was in a good mood. At least, I thought that was what it was. I had never seen it on him before. He had been like that all week. He told Gene his tie was a crime. He asked Opal if she wanted her water neat or on the rocks, and she turned pink to her collar. "Is he all right?" I whispered to Walt. "He's had a good couple of weeks," Walt said into his beer. Around eleven, Beck came down the bar with a rack of glasses and nodded at the rain hammering on the roof. "You're not walking home in that, are you?" "No. Travis is picking me up." He nodded once and went back to work. By close, it was still coming down. The last table left at ten past two. I wiped down, put the chairs up, and kept one eye on the door. No headlights swept across it. Where is he? I called him from the back room. It rang until the voicemail picked up. I restocked the cooler and called again. Then I did the taps, which were Beck's job, and called a third time. Nothing. At two forty, I ran out of things to clean, and I knew he wasn't coming. I was furious. It came up hot and fast, and it surprised me. He had offered. I hadn't even asked him. I would have taken the car and been fine, and now I was standing in a back room at a quarter to three with a dead phone call in my hand and a fifteen-minute walk through a downpour ahead of me. I put the phone in my pocket and my face back where it belonged. I wasn't going to tell Beck. I had looked him in the eye and said Travis was coming. I couldn't stand there now and say he forgot. I got my jacket off the hook. "Goodnight," I said, breezy, already halfway to the door. "Have a good weekend." "Wait." I stopped with my hand on the lock. "I thought you said Trent was coming." I gave him half a smile. "Travis." "Travis." "Yeah. He must have gotten held up. It's okay. I'll see you Tuesday." I turned the lock. "Wait. No." He was already coming around the bar. "I'll take you. Give me a minute." "Beck, you don't have to do that. It's not even…" "I'm not letting you walk in this." He didn't say it loudly. He said it the way he said everything, like the subject was closed. "Just hold on." He disappeared into the back. I stood by the door and held on. I told myself I was only doing it because it would be stupid to walk a mile in the rain to prove a point. That was true. It wasn't the only reason. He came back with his keys and a big black umbrella. "My truck's out back." He opened the umbrella in the doorway and held it over me. He didn't hold it over both of us. He kept it square above my head the whole way across the lot, with the rain running off his hair and soaking through the shoulders of his shirt. He never once looked like he noticed. He opened the passenger door and waited until I was all the way in before he shut it. I sat in the dry, dark cab and watched him walk around the hood, drenched. God. And he's a gentleman. Fine. I'd just add it to the list of things I was going to dream about. The truck smelled like him, like cedar and spring rain. Neither of us said much. The wipers went back and forth. His hand was on the gearshift, six inches from my knee, and I looked out the window the entire way. Five minutes later, he pulled up in front of the house. "Thank you," I said. "Really. I'm sorry you had to…" "Wait. Give me your phone." I handed it over. He typed with one thumb and gave it back. There was a new contact on the screen. It just said Beck. "If you ever need a ride, you call me. I don't care what time it is. Okay?" His eyes were very steady. I felt it all the way down. "Okay," I said. "Thank you." I got out and ran for the porch with my jacket over my head. He didn't pull away. He sat there with his headlights on me until I had my key in the door. That was how I saw it. Our car was in the driveway. It was parked right where it always was. Travis wasn't held up anywhere. He was home.