At The Crossing

Chapter 1

"You are my dearest friend, my deepest love. You are the very best of me."

- The Best of Me, coming to theaters October 17

Chapter 1

I have been here before—amidst a bustling crowd, kissed by snowflakes, and struck with a fierce sense of destiny as powerful as the dark brown gaze that once gripped my soul and reached right into it, finding a home in the empty space I could never fill.

“We’re closed in five!” he said without even glancing up from the bar counter he was furiously wiping. He looked so serious, as he usually did to everyone else, one might think he was plotting murder as he polished the counter clean. But that was Adam Bishop for you—somber, seemingly sinister, sexy as hell even with a scowl.

I wondered if those dark brows would lift and the corners of that full mouth would tip up in a rusty smile once he caught sight of me. He used to do more than just smile when he saw me. There would be a twinkle in his eye, a cheeky grin on his face and a low, gruff laugh rumbling from him in those moments we spent together, being as foolish and reckless as our youth afforded us.

There had much of other things between us since those days, and much of nothing but the silence that followed chaos once there wasn’t anything left to destroy. I knew, from the sharp angles of his cheeks and the stern line of his mouth, that he no longer smiled and laughed often, that his capacity for them rather than his actual skill had been fading over the years much like the shiny gloss on old pictures that once made everything seem brighter and better. Time was to blame for the inevitable deterioration of memories on print and while time was indeed a factor in Adam’s case, both he and I would agree in a heartbeat that the rest of it could be laid at my feet—the same ones that turned around and walked away from him many years ago.

A happily gurgling group stumbled past me on their way out and I quickly stepped aside and held the door open for them. I remembered how it once felt to have the memories of living a little for a few hours warm your soul, as if the few drinks you had that now warmed your belly could reach into the other parts of you and chase away the chill.

A swirl of snowflakes blew into the foyer of the famous town bar and grill, stirring around me as I stepped back inside and closed the door behind me.

Even with five minutes before the official closing, Old Country Grill was still busy as the last of the customers finished their drinks and the staff started the clean up. It looked very much the same as it did years ago—rustic, cozy and comfortable. Most faces were still familiar as some of the employees glanced my way, registering surprise after the few seconds it took to remember me.

The chimes above my head—a cluster of colorful metal bird shapes—trailed off in their soft tinkling melody. At the near-silence that ensued, Adam halted in wiping the counter, the muscles on his arm flexing with the tension of his paused reach. His head swept up and from behind a lock of brown hair that had fallen over his forehead, I could see his dark, inscrutable gaze as he mentally dug through memories he’d put away a long time ago to find the name of the ghost that stood in front of him tonight.

The past was hardly welcome when it represented pain and I could hardly blame Adam if he’d chosen to forget forever. His eyes though flickered ever so slightly with recognition. They shuttered in pretty much the next breath, his stony profile schooled into showing no emotion. A pity, really, because once upon a time, Adam’s face was an open book to me with his tender gazes and soft, happy smiles.

“Lily.”

The sound of my name rang hollow—like the emptiness of the last few years.

It grated because his voice only ever used to say my name like it was a sweetly whispered secret—warm and intimate. Like any abandoned space, cold had settled in. The chill of the two syllables seeped into my bones and I struggled with the visceral urge to tremble even as I stood there in the warm flood of incandescent light.