Page 67 of Always Be My Pumpkin

‘A real relationship?’ Flynn steps back and stares at me, like he’s seeing me for the first time, and he can hardly bear to take me in. ‘Like you and Jamie, you mean. Fuck. I really thought this time you’d ask me to stay.’

He drags his hand through his hair again, tugging harder than ever now. ‘It’s not your fault. You told me straight in your letter. I should have believed you when you said that I was, what . . . some unresolved issue you needed to get out of your system.’ His words scrape through my raw, shredded heart.

He holds my gaze and goes on, ‘I should have believed you the first time when you gave me that pen. What was it you said?’ His eyes drop to the pathway between us, then he whispers, ‘Write to me sometime . . . Yeah, thanks.’

He pushes the door with his foot and turns to go inside, then he stops, spins around, and pins me with those sad, beautiful eyes. ‘I understand if you don’t want me to stay.’ He clenches his jaw tight. ‘But, please, don’t let anyone else tell you what you need. Wait for the love you deserve, Gracie. That’s all I want for you. That’s all I ask.’

He pulls the door shut behind him, and I stand and stare at the space where he stood. I’m cold and I’m shaking. I’m hurt and confused. And inside I’m howling, I would have waited forever if you wanted me. But you’re the one who left.

How can he say that I left it up to him? That I’m the one who should ask him to stay. And why is he still talking about Jamie? You’re the one who matters, Flynn. I’m trying to do what’s right for you. I’m trying to be your friend. The words burn in my chest, and claw their way up my throat, but they barely fall out as a whisper. And I’m sorry if I hurt you. But you’re the one who left, Flynn. You’re the one who left.

I stop at the junction of the Corner Bar and the narrow road that leads to Mam’s house, and I see Scott walking towards me carrying a clear plastic box.

‘Gracie? Is that you?’

I pull down my hood and lift my hand in a half-hearted wave.

‘Sorry,’ he says as he reaches me. ‘Of course it’s you.’ Who else wears a bright yellow rain jacket is what he means, but he doesn’t say that. He smiles kindly and adds, ‘Did you catch Flynn?’

I nod but I don’t elaborate, and Scott tilts his head. ‘You’ll work it out.’

I shrug. I know he means well but I don’t want to talk any more. I only want to get home and crawl under my cosy patchwork quilt, the one Mam and I made together the year after Dad died, the one Flynn and I used to curl up under all the time.

Mam’s gone to Dublin to pick Cal up from the airport, and they’re staying in the city overnight, so the house will be empty, and that’s exactly what I need. Time to process all these thoughts and feelings battering my head and my heart like the cruellest October storm. But Scott stands beneath the streetlight, waiting for more. I can’t tell him to get lost and leave me alone, but I can give him a subtle hint. I pull up my hood to make it clear I’m not going back inside.

‘Those are Jamie’s, I suppose. Shouldn’t you go on in and give them back to him?’ I point at the small plastic box, filled with what looks like old photos and scraps of newspaper, and at the top of the pile, an envelope that looks like it might once have been white, but is now wrinkled and yellowing and curled at the corners, faded and unloved, like it’s been buried under old junk for way too many years.

‘You’re not coming in?’ He does the head tilt again, and I shake my head slowly.

‘No. I’m not.’

‘Okay, mind yourself, we’ll see you tomorrow evening.’ He goes to turn for the door but then he steps back and says, ‘Hey, I almost forgot. I found this in with Jamie’s old clippings.’ He plucks the worn envelope from the box and hands it to me. ‘It has your name on it, so I didn’t open it. Probably some old photos from back in the day.’

‘Oh,’ I say, and I take it from his outstretched hand. It doesn’t look familiar. I’m about to turn it over and check for my name when the main door opens and Jamie steps out.

‘There you are. I was going to send out a search party.’ He scowls at Scott. ‘I hope you’ve calmed down, cuz. You were bang out of order taking that loser’s side.’

Scott grits his teeth and drops the plastic box on the ground in front of Jamie. ‘These are yours. Now take them and go home. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’

Jamie rolls his eyes and goes to reach for the box, but he jerks up again and his eyes light on me, still clutching the worn yellow envelope to my chest.

‘What the fuck?’ He gapes at me. ‘Where did you get that? I threw that away years ago.’

He reaches to snatch it from my hand, but Scott grabs his arm. There was a time he could have shaken Scott off easily, but Jamie spent most of the last two years behind a desk, or out in fancy bars drinking cocktails, and as far as I know the only exercise he got was screwing Olivia, whereas Scott works out every day, and he’s captain of the senior team now, so he’s gotten a lot more used to taking charge.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Scott plants himself between Jamie and me, and I take another step back.

‘That letter. That’s mine.’

‘It has Gracie’s name on it.’

Jamie’s face twists. ‘I wrote it years ago. I don’t want her to have it any more. I thought I threw it out.’ He leans to the side, trying to see me over Scott’s shoulder. ‘Give it back, Gracie, please. It won’t do any good reading it now. It’s over and done.’

I shake my head in disbelief. ‘There’s no way you ever wrote me a letter. You never even wrote me a note.’ I lift the envelope, turn it over, and stare at the faded blue lettering:

Gracie.

‘This isn’t your handwriting.’ I look up at Jamie, and then back down at my name, and I can barely breathe. I know that hand as if it were my own. I sink back and lean against the window ledge because I don’t think my legs will hold me up. ‘It’s Flynn’s.’