His eyes go wide, and he pulls the door open wider. I enter, and then as the door clicks and I turn, Jack’s arms are around me.
I sink into his embrace, my head resting against the center of his chest as I listen to his heartbeat in my ear. I clutch at him, knowing that he’s the only person alive who can understand the myriad of emotions racketing through me.
“She died, and I . . . I don’t know what to do,” I confess.
His hands move up and down my back as I inhale his clean soap and spice scent. God, he smells so damn good, feels so damn perfect, and I want to stay here forever.
The word whispers around my heart, but I push it down.
Jack isn’t my forever.
He was my once.
“How? When?” he asks.
“The other day, but Samuel called me about it a few hours ago.”
Jack releases me, taking the warmth of his body with him and leaving me colder than before.
He moves toward the window, running his fingers through his thick brown hair. When he turns to me, his eyes are filled with questions and hesitancy. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. Are you?”
The sound of a half laugh and half sigh comes from his lips. “No. I don’t know what to think.”
“I’m going.”
“Going where?” he asks.
“To Georgia. I need to pay my respects.”
Jack’s breathing grows labored as he stares at me. “What about her?”
After all this time, he still struggles to say her name. When we gave her away, he had to release everything about Kinsley. He has never mentioned her to me since. Part of me has hated him for it.
I’ve wanted him to live in the grief of giving her away the same as I have. Each year, her birthday passes, and each year, I spend it alone, crying and thinking of who she is. I’ve looked at her beautiful face in photos, always there, just on the cusp of my life but never a part of it.
Another part of me has envied him. How he’s been able to just go on with life, pretending as if we never held her, loved her for those brief moments, and then clung to each other as we dealt with the pain of losing her. We both agreed to never speak of it. Not because we worried not only about my father’s threats, but because it would change nothing.
All it would do is hurt people in our lives for lying and us for the fact we don’t have her.
“I won’t see her. I’ve already spoken to Samuel, and I’m going there now.”
He shakes his head. “This is wrong, Stella.”
“What?”
“You going there. It’s a risk. What if she sees you?”
“Misty was my friend, Jack. I . . .”
“You’re going for you.”
I snap back at his words as though he’s slapped me. “What?”
He closes his eyes, looking away as shame creeps in. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that it feels like everything we’ve done is crumbling. We’ve spent years convincing ourselves that giving her away was the right thing, and now you’re going to where she lives?”
“Screw you, Jack. If that were the case, I could’ve asked Misty if I could meet her anytime over the last twelve years. I’ve stayed away because it was the right thing, but going and paying my respects to the woman who has raised our daughter, well, that’s the right thing too.”
If there’s nothing else I know in this world, at least I know that. Had we kept Kinsley in the lives we were living twelve years ago, nothing would be this way. I wouldn’t have been able to give her anything. My father made it clear that, if I kept her, I wouldn’t have any support. He would ensure my family cut me off and I would know exactly what it was like to be a single teenage mother. I would’ve been working in the factory, barely making ends meet. Jack would never have gotten the job he did out of college or risen up the corporate ladder as fast as he had.
Kinsley would’ve learned poverty and hunger, and I would’ve hated myself.
“I know.”
“And so is this,” I tell him. “Misty was more than just the adoptive mother to me, Jack. While you have gone on and forgotten, I haven’t.”
Anger flares in those gorgeous hazel eyes. “You think I’ve forgotten?”
“Haven’t you?”
“Not a single fucking moment.”
The statement threatens to derail me. “Well—” I stop, trying to gain my composure. “Well, she was my friend, and I’m sad, and I want to pay my respects to the woman who gave me a gift.”
“And that’s fine, but you’re opening yourself up to destroying everything we’ve done this for.”
My breath comes out in a loud huff. “The fuck I am. I already told you I wasn’t going to see her, so what are you so worried about?”
“How about the fact that we’ve sacrificed everything for her. We’ve been fucking miserable for twelve years. When is the last time you dated? When is the last time I had . . .”
My heart begins to race and the question comes out, even though I wish I could stop it. “Had what?”
“Nothing.”
I step toward him. My hand lifting just a fraction before I pull it back. I can’t touch him like that, not the way I want to. The way my body craves him each time he’s near isn’t something I would be able to curb if I gave in to it. I’ve learned to live around a man I love, need, desire more than anything. I have refused to allow myself so much as a whisper of hope that he felt this way, and now I’m confused.
Being around him, watching him smile, and acting like I don’t know what his lips feel like against mine, has been a millimeter away from impossible. I’m so tired of struggling to forget how his eyes were warm as we made love on my birthday.
Jack pinches the bridge of his nose and avoids the question. “I think this is a mistake. What if you see Kinsley? What if she sees you?”
“I’m going to do everything I can to avoid that. Samuel said she was not going to the night service, which is when I’ll go.”
“And again, if she sees you?”
“Then I’ll do what I’ve been doing the last twelve years . . . I’ll lie.”
The only person I am lying to is myself.
The parking lot of the funeral home is packed, and there’s a group of people by the cars, hugging and dabbing their eyes with tissues.
I look around, hoping to see a little girl with long brown hair and eyes like her father’s just as fiercely as I hope I don’t.
What a fool I am.
I exit my car, smoothing my dress, and draw a steadying breath.
I can do this. She’s not here, and if she is, I need to act casual.
Walking to the door, I keep my gaze down. Misty was a school teacher before she left to raise Kinsley. I will just use that as my reason if anyone asks who I am.
When I enter the room, there are almost a hundred people milling around. There are some wiping their eyes and others smiling. I’d like to imagine they’re remembering stories of Misty.
I get in line, still keeping my head down as I move closer to the casket. There, on thick velvet chairs in the front row, sits a man, staring at the casket. Samuel’s grief is so deep that I feel it in my soul.
When I get up there, I rest my knees on the hassock and look at the woman who has meant so much to me.
“Oh, Misty,” I whisper, ensuring no one else can hear me. “I’m so sorry. I wish I had told you more times how much I loved and admired you. I should’ve thanked you more for all you did. There is nothing I can ever say that would be enough.” I lift my hand to my lips and then place it on the edge of the casket. “Goodbye, my friend. Please watch over us all.”
I push to my feet and make my way to Samuel. When he sees me, he stands. “Stella.”
I give him a sad smile as tears brim against my lashes. “I’m so sorry.”
He nods, his own tears spilling over. “I can’t live in a world without her.”
The pain in his voice is almost too much to bear. “She
loved you very much.”
“I was a lucky man.”
Misty often spoke of how hard things were for them before Kinsley. They had tried for years to have a baby, leaving them broke and also broken. She suffered through six miscarriages, and each one stole more hope from them both. Samuel took each loss as though he were at fault and Misty couldn’t do it anymore. They had been passed over three times by other pregnant mothers, which drove distance between them. Still, their love was strong enough to get through it, and then, when they thought they’d learned to live without a child, they got the call that I wanted to meet them.
“I think you were both lucky in that regard.”
“It seems my luck ran out.” His gaze returns to Misty’s body.
He’s wrong, he still has something precious to love.
He forces a smile as he looks to me. “Did you come alone?”
I hear the real question: Is Jack here?
“Yes, I have to return tonight.”
“I understand. It’s good that you came. Misty would’ve wanted you here.”
I settle a hand on his shoulder, smiling softly. “There’s nothing that could’ve kept me from paying my respects to a woman I cared so much for.”
“I appreciate that. I really do.” Samuel sighs after a moment, looking weary. “I don’t know what life is going to be like anymore. Kinsley . . . she . . . she’s struggling, and I don’t know how to help her.”
A pang in my chest keeps me from speaking. I know he’s struggling, but being here, thinking about Kinsley, is almost too much. “You’re a great father. I’m sure you’ll give her what she needs.”
He shakes his head. “She needs her mother.”
I’m right here.
No.
No. No. I am not her mother. I am nothing to Kinsley. I’m a stranger who gave up any claim to that girl.
“I should go,” I say as self-preservation kicks in. I don’t belong here, and the sooner I leave, the better it will be for everyone.
He gives me a quick hug before the next person waiting to pay their respects to him steps forward. I start to walk out the door, looking back one last time at Misty.
My heart aches. Everything about this is wrong. She was the best of us, and she’s leaving two people who need her.
When I turn back, leaving to head back to my life, I see her.
A little girl.
Twelve.
Brown hair, hazel eyes, and long, dark lashes. She’s staring at me as if she knows me.
Jack was right. Coming here was a mistake.
I force a smile, as though I don’t know who she is . . . as if she didn’t come from my heart and soul, and start to walk. My lips press tight, refusing to speak to her because, if I do, I have no idea what I’ll say.
Does she know who I am?
Does she suspect I’m her mother?
Did she show up tonight, wondering if I would come?
I should’ve stayed in Willow Creek.
I exit the funeral home, drawing shallow breaths as I move quickly but not so fast that I draw attention, and get into my car.
Keeping my eyes down, I start it, and then as I pull out, I see her standing there watching me, and I leave her again, hating myself even more.
Chapter 6
Jack
The woods usually offer me peace from my thoughts, but this trip has been hell. Twelve days out there did nothing to quiet the chaos in my head.
I wondered, worried, wished to call her, but I couldn’t. There is no reception where I take these people. If they could get ahold of someone, then the entire point of a survival trip would be moot.
So, I also endured the struggle.
I wash away the dirt that seems embedded in my skin, scrubbing and trying to get clean, all while debating whether I should’ve gone to see Stella first.
Once clean, I drive over to her loft, climbing the steps two at a time, not wanting to waste another second.
She opens the door, surprise in her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?”
Stella sighs deeply and takes a step back as the door opens wider. Stella’s house is warm. That’s the word that always surrounded her anyway. It’s vanilla and cookies and campfires. She’s the comfort when everything is a mess, and still, she’s not for me.
“What’s wrong?” Her voice is distant, showing me her hurt.
“Nothing. I came to check on you.”
I’ve thought of little else since she left that night. I’ve wondered if going had hurt her. If she saw our daughter. All of this went around in my head, hating that she was there. That she might get to look at her, hug her, talk to her. Just that thought makes me clench my fists, needing to control the emotions that build because I don’t have a right to be jealous. I made my choice to erase Kinsley from my mind in order to fucking breathe.
She swallows and then turns from me. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
She whips around, eyes blazing. “Of course I’m not. You’ve been gone! Gone again. And I’m . . .”
“You’re what?”
Her lip trembles, and my fucking heart breaks. “Stella?”
“Samuel just called.”
“What did he say?”
“He’s struggling. He’s alone with a little girl who wants to know who her birth parents are.”
I don’t say a word, mostly because I’m not sure what the hell to say. “How did they handle it before?”
“Misty never said, but she saw me, Jack. She looked into my eyes and . . . God, she saw me, and I ran.”
There’s shame in her eyes, and I wish I could take it away from her. “I’m sorry, Stella. I’m sorry for all of it.”
I never should’ve touched her that night. I’ve apologized countless times, and it still isn’t enough. Stella wouldn’t have had to bear the fallout from it. Every conversation with her parents. Every appointment I missed because I was stuck in college and couldn’t be there. Then she was sent away to live with her grandmother while she waited to give birth.
I haven’t suffered even a quarter of what she has. And I’m so fucking sorry for it.
Stella rubs her face, moving away. “She’s beautiful.”
“I always knew she would be.” She came from Stella, after all.
Tears form in those beautiful brown eyes. She’s in so much pain, and I’m helpless to save her. “She looks like you.”
I close my eyes, imagining a version of Stella and me, hating the vision as it appears. “What did Samuel say?” I ask again, needing to get to a topic I can actually focus on.
“He was drunk. I don’t know that he even knew what he was saying. He’s in pain and he’s lost.”
I imagine how I would feel if Stella was taken from this world. How I would want to rip my heart from my chest because it wouldn’t be worth anything anymore. I would want to be in that hole beside her, and I haven’t spent thirty years by her side. I’ve just loved her from afar.
To anyone who knows us, we’re indifferent to each other. I like her fine enough as my best friend’s little sister, but nothing more.
She definitely doesn’t feel anything for me. I’ve taken from her, and she will never forgive me. Not that I would ask her to.
Yet, here I am, unable to stay away from the one person I should leave in peace. The woman who makes me weak because my love for her is so strong.
“He’ll be okay after some time has passed.”
Stella shrugs. “Hopefully.” After a few seconds, she speaks again. “Why did you really come here, Jack?”
“I told you.”
Because I hate when you suffer.
“You don’t want to talk about her.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
I look into her brown eyes, wishing I were a better man. A stronger one. One who could say fuck everyone and everything and lay my heart out for her, but Stella made up her mind a long time ago about us when we realized the
mistake we made. Then we sealed our fate the day we gave up Kinsley. Thinking about Kinsley makes me remember too much about how much I love Stella, and God knows I need to forget.
“It was the worst day of our lives, Stella. Do you want to live it again?”
She sits on the couch as if the weight of the world is too much. “Some days, I feel like it was a dream or maybe more like a nightmare. Either way, it doesn’t feel real. It’s easy to go on with my life, pretending that we don’t have a child. And then—” She pauses, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I see you with Melia. I watch you lift her into the air, kiss her cheeks, and love her. I . . .”
“I know.” I stop her, needing her not to say it. “But Amelia isn’t our daughter.”
“No, she’s not.”
“It wouldn’t have been that way for us,” I remind her of why we did this.
She nods, looking away. “Probably not.”
“Definitely not, Stella. Your father threatened to take it all away from you. We would’ve been completely on our own. Your brother never would’ve forgiven me. We would . . .”
“We would what?”
Have loved.
In a perfect world, we would’ve been together. I would’ve said to hell with Grayson, her family, that was essentially my family, and school. I would’ve married her, given her whatever life I could, and we would have been together. But we don’t live in a perfect world. We live in this tragically imperfect one.
“We would’ve struggled,” I finish.
“We could’ve had each other.”
“Could we, Stell? Could we have really had each other without destroying everything? Would you have wanted that? We were kids, and we didn’t have a fucking clue.”
“I would’ve wanted the moments,” she confesses. “I would’ve wanted whatever we could’ve had.” Stella gets to her feet, wrapping her arms around her stomach. “I wanted them. I was too young to fight for them, but the moments, Jack, they’re what matter.”
And with that, she opens the door, clearly asking for me to leave.
I go because I have spent the last twelve years walking away from her, letting the action steal one more sliver of my heart as I do.
Could Have Been Us Page 4
