Westward

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It was truly my favorite time of year. Perhaps I should say one of my favorite times of the year. Because here I was, with some of my favorite people in the world, watching them practically shake with a sugar high, their eyes expressive, filled with delight and anticipation, as the clock ticked slowly. With each passing second, I knew we were one moment closer to our salvation. Or perhaps just our relative freedom.

“Ms. Ellis, are you teaching summer school this year?” Hannah, one of my students, asked, her smile bright, her pen tapping to a rhythm only she could hear against the desk.

“Not this year,” I answered, an odd sense of relief flowing. I loved teaching. I had been teaching at Ashford Creek High School since graduating from college and returning to my hometown to be with my family and friends. Ashford Creek might be a small town in the middle of the Rocky Mountains outside of Denver, one that didn’t easily flow off the lips of strangers, but it was my small town. It was my home, filled with memories.

I’d gone to high school in a different part of the building as my classroom was in the newer section, but part of the halls still held the same feelings as they had when I’d been younger. Ashford Creek and the surrounding areas had grown in size and population over time, and now, while it was still a small town, I didn’t recognize every single person at the town hall.

“Like you would ever be in summer school,” Clayton sneered.

“Clayton. You do realize we still have detention available today, correct?” I asked with a single brow raised. It took all within me not to smirk or react in any other way. Clayton wasn’t a bad kid, but sometimes he forgot to watch what he said in front of other adults. Of course, if he spoke like that to Hannah alone, I would hope someone else would stand up for her as well. The class booed, and I kept my face expressionless.

Clayton just winked at me before lifting his chin. “I graduate this weekend. My mom would literally kill me if I got detention the day before.”

“Then maybe don’t be an ass,” Alecks added.

Everybody made oohs and aahs, and I held back a sigh. The last day of high school for my lovely teenagers was already turning into a very long day. I would never give any of them detention, but keeping them on track so we could enjoy our afternoon and make sure we were ready for the summer wasn’t easy.

All exams were through, their GPAs sorted. Nearly every student here had an acceptance to their college of choice—whether it was a community college or a university in-state or out. Some were set for trade schools, and others were taking a gap year to spend with their families. There were many ways to begin adulthood, and none of them needed to be one set perfect path.

I couldn’t help but remember the start of my own path so many years ago.

One where I went through the unexpected, surprising even myself. Then I had taken perhaps a path less traveled, one that had put me on the outskirts of a town I thought had respected me. I had been the one left behind, after all. It didn’t matter that I had faced it head-on, making my own decisions. A small town that I loved with every ounce of my being had judged me from the start, and I would always be the girl left behind.

But I shoved those thoughts from my mind, as I needed to focus on the students in front of me.

I let my gaze drift towards Will, one of my quieter students. He had his head down, his attention focused on his notebook. Will was one of the best artists in his graduating class—of a student body of less than three hundred—but I knew he would rather saw his own arm off than have anyone tell him he was good at drawing. He didn’t join in on our board games or other ways to pass the time; instead, focusing on his own paper and ignoring the rest.

Getting him to graduate had been one of the hardest endeavors of my teaching career, and not because he wasn’t brilliant. No, it was because sometimes the world couldn’t quite forgive where you were born, or the decisions of others.

He had passed and would graduate this weekend. Of course, I would be there shouting for him and the rest of his peers. Everybody had worked so hard to get where they were, and as a teacher, I was proud of them beyond all measure.

I might not have been blessed with children of my own, but each student that walked through these halls was like a small part of me escaping into the future, clinging to what could be.

As the final bell rang, my students stood up and cheered, and I couldn’t help but clap. Yes, it was ridiculous, embarrassing, and sentimental, but I didn’t care. I held up my arms for the ones who wanted to hug me, and they took out their phones, with selfies being taken to memorialize the moment. My little babies were now adults, walking out into the real world, and I waved at them, knowing that I would have to do this all over again next year.

I got them when they were in ninth grade and watched them walk into their forevers at eighteen.

Will was the last to leave, and as he dragged his feet towards the door, I frowned.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” I asked, trying to keep the worry out of my voice. I didn’t want to say that he wasn’t my problem anymore, because I would never believe that, but he wasn’t a student in my classroom any longer, and he had never been one for asking for help or talking about his feelings.

He shrugged. “I don’t know if I can go.”

Worry edged into the tiredness of the day and the end of another long year. “Do you need a ride? I can pick you up.” It wouldn’t be out of the question for a teacher to drive a student to and from school. Not in Ashford Creek. Most of the teachers had kids in our school or were best friends with the parents of those kids. It was hard to set some boundaries when you were neighbors with most of your classroom.

The graduation would be held in the same place that most events were held in our small town—the town hall and barn. Every festival dance, homecoming, reunion, and other major event was held underneath that roof. Our town hall decorators and committee members put their all into making every event individual and pure Ashford Creek.

The outdoor seating area was large enough to fit at least twenty people per graduate, with enough room for everyone to be comfortable and to celebrate our new adults.

I also knew that Will could probably walk to the event easily, but he rarely did anything in town.

“I have to work.”

“You didn’t ask Rune for a day off?” I asked.

Rune was a friend, and I had known him since I was a child. He owned Summit Grill, where I knew Will was a busboy. Now that he was eighteen, he had been shifted and was training to be a waiter. Rune paid well and treated his staff well.

He was also my ex’s big brother, and while I enjoyed going to eat with my friends there, I tried my best to avoid him. He never gave me the pitying looks that the rest of the town gave me for being Atlas Carter’s ex-girlfriend. But he looked so much like Atlas sometimes that it was hard to want to be near him often.

“I said I would work because the rest of the staff needs to be at the graduation. I don’t mind. It’s not like I have any family going. They don’t even give you your diploma. You get the cover, which they can mail to me. I don’t really care, Ms. Ellis. Not that you aren’t great or anything. You and the other teachers are nice and all, but I don’t really need a party or an event to tell me that I’m out of high school and not going to college. I see that every time I look in the mirror.”

My heart ached for Will. I had known him since he was a good little kid, and he had always been a bright light, smiling and laughing. Great at sports, art, and just a good person. His parents had died in a snowmobile accident when he was in middle school. The event had shaped so much of his life and had been a town tragedy. Just a few years prior, another man had lost his children and wife in a car accident on an icy bridge, and that had broken some of the town’s spirit. But we had all clawed together, doing our best to care for those we could.

Nobody had come for Will and offered to raise him. He had been such a cute little kid and had ended up a hollow-eyed little boy who needed family. Part of me had wanted to reach out to say I could help, but I had been in my early twenties. A single woman on a teacher’s salary. I was an only child with elderly parents, and in the eyes of so many in town and the legal system, hadn’t had any prospects.

I wasn’t the right person to adopt a child to keep him in town. Instead, he had gone to a few different foster families and had ended up with one on the far east side of town. From what I could tell, his foster mother had run off a couple of years ago, and his foster father had gotten his last check once Will had turned eighteen.

I knew he still was living underneath that roof, at least that’s what he had told everyone, but I didn’t have any right to know anything else. My friends in the system did their best, but they were overworked, and the fact that Will had even been able to stay in Ashford Creek with his friends and familiar moments had been a miracle.

And now he was eighteen, and he wouldn’t have anyone for him at graduation.

“If you decide to go, I’ll be cheering your name.”

“Just like you always do with everyone else, Ms. E. You’re a good person, you know that?”

I blushed, shaking my head. “I do my best. You should go if you want to, but even if you don’t, I know that you’ll still have people who will be thinking of you.”

He just shrugged, not looking like he believed me.

“Maybe. I got to go, Ms. E. I’ll tell Rune you say hi though, right?” He winked as he said it, and if I weren’t a proper teacher, I probably would’ve flipped him off. Oh, he was an adult now, but I saw that little attitude on his face.

Just like everyone else, he knew that I was the ex-girlfriend of NHL star goalie Atlas Carter. The high school sweetheart, prom queen to his prom king. And there was no denying it.

For fuck’s sake, there was even a memorialized shrine to Atlas down the hall from my classroom. Complete with our prom photo.

There also happened to be a similar shrine to my friend Callum because the man had ended up in the NFL, and Gray, another hockey star. Ashford Creek might be small, but we sure knew how to make sports stars, apparently.

Will smiled as he left, and I figured that my slight humiliation might be worth giving him a laugh, so I quickly packed up my things.

My classroom was empty, things pulled from the walls, and I knew the custodial staff would scrub it clean before I came back in the fall. Maybe they’d even add a fresh coat of paint, but I didn’t think it was likely. There wasn’t any money for things like that.

I made my way out to my car, waving and speaking to a few of my fellow teachers, as my phone rang. I answered with a bright smile on my face.

“Elizabeth,” my mom said, her voice a little hoarse.

Warmth spread through my chest at the sound of her voice. I loved my parents something fierce, though we didn’t do much but hang out at the house these days. “Mom. I was just heading towards the bakery to pick up our pie.”

“Did someone say pie?” my dad asked from from the other line as they were on their landline phones, and I laughed as my mom scolded him.

When Atlas had gone to college on a full-ride hockey scholarship, I had joined. I had been in love with him and grateful for my own partial scholarship toward my degree. The town might’ve thought I had followed him because I had nothing else, but we had chosen that college together. It wasn’t just Atlas who had decided for us. He had always made sure I made my own decisions and was cared for. Even when we had broken up, he had been that man. He still was, which was something I tried not to think about.

Atlas’s parents, sister, and brother were still here, thriving in Ashford Creek. And my family was as well. Though my family was a good thirty-five years older than Atlas’s parents.

I had been a very late baby—one who had shown up when my mom thought she was hitting menopause. Now, my parents were the same age as some of my friends’ grandparents and needed me. They had needed me when I had moved back after college, and there hadn’t been another choice for me. I loved Ashford Creek. I loved that small-town feel and knowing where I belonged.

I hadn’t needed the limelight or the life of someone living in Portland as the significant other of the top goalie in the entire NHL.

I was just fine where I was.

And my parents needed me.

“We don’t need pie,” my mom complained.

“It is my end-of-school pie, something we have done since my kindergarten year. I’m getting us pie. And Sweet & Tart makes the best pie.”

“Better than that Ashy Buns place,” my dad teased.

I laughed, listening to them as my phone went to Bluetooth, and I drove down the small town roads towards Sweet & Tart.

The bakery had once been owned by another woman—a woman who had hated me with the fire of a thousand suns because I had been Atlas’s girl. And then had dumped our breakup in my face until she found someone of her own and had finally left town. Our friend Bronwyn had ended up buying the place and changed the name to Sweet & Tart. And Bronwyn knew how to make her pies.

“We’ll be here waiting for pie, and I’ll put on the tea,” Dad said. I could practically hear him smacking his lips in anticipation.

I laughed and said my goodbyes before parking in front of the bakery. Frankly, I was surprised I found a spot because everybody was out in the beautiful sunlight with the perfect temperature, picking up desserts and presents for the graduation and festivals coming up. Tourists filled the area, and the locals just looked happy that it was no longer snowing.

I had an entire summer off to do what I wanted, maybe to travel, to organize my house, and to paint a few walls. I was planning to hike and enjoy myself.

School wasn’t in session, and it wasn’t hockey season. It had always been my favorite time growing up.

And I hated the fact that I had even thought about hockey season. Why Atlas was continuously on my mind these days, I would never know. No, I knew exactly why. Because my friend Felicity—Atlas’s little sister—had found love, and others in my life were starting to find love as well. People were growing, figuring out what they wanted, and I did my best to tell myself I wasn’t being left behind.

Just because I was now thirty-one and single didn’t mean I had always been.

And it wasn’t like I compared every man in my life to Atlas. That would be wrong.

Because if anybody looked up photos of Atlas, you knew that he wasn’t comparing me to anyone. He might not have gotten married either, but he sure as hell hadn’t been celibate.

I ground my teeth together, telling myself I was an idiot.

No need to be thinking about him.

Even if it was off-season, and there’s a high probability he would be back in town. Like always.

I walked into the bakery as everybody chatted amongst themselves, either snacking or waiting for their order. I waved at Bronwyn, who pointed to the back, and I knew she would go and get my pie.

I talked to a few people about the upcoming graduation, and everybody was so good about not talking about the fact that the Portland Gliders had been knocked out in the third round of the playoffs. No Stanley Cup for them. It had broken my heart for Atlas, because I’d never hated him—contrary to popular belief. But I didn’t really want to talk about it with everyone else.

As Bronwyn handed over the pie, a news bulletin filled the room, and I turned as everyone quieted.

“Portland Gliders hockey star Atlas Carter was released from the hospital earlier this week after an attack at the arena. No word as to who was responsible, or the motivations, but he was found in the team shower, unconscious, and the fact that they were able to keep it under wraps for so long is sparking rumors of rivalries.”

Reporters continued to speak, speculating about who had attacked him and the injuries he would have. After all, an injured goalie meant they didn’t know what would happen to his career. He was thirty-one—still young and not even the oldest on the ice, but nearing it in some eyes.

And with an up-and-coming goalie on the bench, what would this mean for Atlas Carter’s career?

“Oh my God, did you hear?” someone began, and then I blinked as I realized that every eye in the bakery was on me. The looks of confusion, anger, worry, and pity covered their faces, and I tried not to throw up.

They had looked at me like this when I had come home without him, and then again the first time he had walked down the street arm-in-arm with someone who wasn’t me.

Bile covered my tongue, but it had nothing to do with their looks, because Atlas had been hurt.

And nobody had told me.

Suddenly, a hand touched my arm, and the pie fell from my hands, splattering onto the floor, leaving pastry and cherry sprawled over the tile, as if a murder scene had been left behind.

Had Atlas bled? Is this what it had looked like in the shower when he’d lain prone and unheard? Why hadn’t anyone told me?

“Come with me,” Teagan said.

“I’ve got the mess,” Bronwyn said, and I had a feeling she didn’t just mean the pie on the ground.

And suddenly, Teagan was pulling me into her car, and I was trying to catch my breath.

“Is he?” I asked, but I couldn’t finish the sentence. They hadn’t told us what was wrong with him, or exactly what had happened. I couldn’t breathe, and my chest tightened.

“He’s fine,” Teagan said with a sigh. “But you know how this town is.”

“You’re lying,” I said. “And why are you driving me? My car was right there.”

“We’ll have someone get your car. I just saw you in there and figured you’d need an escape. You do know this town,” she repeated.

I looked down at my hands, and I let out a breath.

“Do you know what happened?”

“Felicity just texted me. He didn’t even tell them. The news just broke, and I have a feeling that the family group chat is going wild.”

Atlas had kept his attack secret from his family. Had it really been that bad? Or maybe everybody was just blowing things out of proportion.

Yet my spine tingled, and I couldn’t help but come up with disastrous situation after disastrous situation.

“Felicity said that he was going to let everybody know what happened, but I’m not sure.” Teagan, my friend since we were children, gave me a cautious look, and I tried to put on my brave face.

“I’m sure if it were a real issue, he would’ve told his parents right away. Atlas doesn’t keep secrets like that.” I said the words with such conviction that I hoped Teagan would believe me. And I wasn’t lying.

The problem with having an ex-boyfriend the world thought they knew was that they thought they knew you as well.

Atlas was a good person. And that was why it was so hard to hate him—even though I didn’t want to even try.

“I’m just going to drop you off at home, because I sort of panicked when I saw you in there, and everybody was staring. I hate when this town stares at you.”

As Teagan Ashford had grown up the daughter of the town drunk and recluse, and had seen more loss than I could ever deal with, I knew she understood. She had secrets of her own and had dealt with a town that wanted to do right by her but couldn’t help but look down on her for who she was and where she had come from.

I loved her and called her a friend. But I knew there were only so many things that we could be for one another, and we each had our own histories to overcome.

“I appreciate it.” And I did. Because I wasn’t sure how I would’ve been able to get out of that situation. Because as soon as one person said a pitying remark or asked a question, everyone else would pile on. Because, of course, I was supposed to know everything about Atlas. And again, these are the same people who also thought that I had no right to him because I was no longer with him. I was the rejected girlfriend.

When Teagan dropped me off in front of my house, I let out a breath. “In case I don’t get added to any group chats because they’re worried about my feelings, will you let me know if you hear from them?” I asked, doing my best to sound strong.

Teagan gave me a soft smile and squeezed my hand. “Of course. And I know they’re just trying to respect your boundaries.”

I snorted. “I know. But that doesn’t mean I want harm to come to Atlas. Despite what some in this town may think.”

“Some people in this town need to have an enema or four,” she said dryly.

I burst out laughing, grateful for my friend, and headed inside. It took all within me not to look to the right, to the side of my house, at the property next door.

Because while my tiny home was part of my heart, I shared a boundary line with the other part of my heart.

Atlas’s home stood there under the trees in the distance, behind the privacy fence that kept onlookers out, and stayed empty for the majority of the year. In fact, when he visited, he rarely stayed under that roof. I still never knew why he had bought the house or the land, and I had never asked.

I was afraid of the answer.

I stood in my house, the door locked behind me, and shot a quick text to my parents that I would be late. I would have to get another pie and figure out what to do. They wouldn’t be watching the news, so they wouldn’t be worrying about their daughter like they always were. I needed to find my sense of normal once again.

My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the screen, expecting it to be my parents. Instead, my heart leaped into my throat, and I looked down at the familiar name.

Atlas

I’m five by five, Lizzie.

Everything stopped. Right then and there, it stopped. I hated myself just a little bit more. Because the world didn’t know everything. I wasn’t the forgotten girl with stars in her eyes.

I was an adult who had made a choice and had found a life perfect for herself.

Because Atlas and I texted often. We always had. He was my person. And I was his. We just weren’t each other’s. It was a delicate line where I was fine but never fine.

And it was how I could move on in life knowing that Atlas Carter was a brilliant light in the world, and I was just a shadow in the distance.

Me

That’s not what that saying means.

I let relief flow through me because Atlas was checking in. And he was fine.

Atlas

I blame the drugs. But you’re always the teacher. Correcting me.

Me

Always the jock.

Atlas

I’m really okay. And I’m coming home.

I set my phone down on the table in my entryway and let out another shaky breath.

I couldn’t respond to him. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say.

Home.

He was coming home.

To my home.

Not his.

Not anymore.