Shouldn't Have You

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  “When Mom died, Cameron took me to this therapist who said I just needed to feel whatever I felt even if there wasn’t a word for it. As long as I didn’t hurt anyone or myself, it was fine. So maybe you need to do that,” Dillon said, looking over at Cameron and then at me. “I wasn’t very good at it at first, but then Cameron yelled at me, and I figured it out.”

  That made me laugh. “Cameron yelling helped you? I never would’ve thought.”

  “Douche,” Cameron said, flipping me off.

  And then we just sat there, laughing, talking about the fact that Rose and Jack probably would’ve slapped us all upside the head for using that type of language in the office—or anywhere near the bar that had once been our home.

  It was nice just to let it all out, to make sure that the others knew I was okay even if I wasn’t really okay. I didn’t know what would happen next. I didn’t know if I would see Sam again, but I had a feeling I would, and I would have to deal with it when the time came.

  I just didn’t know what I was going to say.

  I helped out in the bar for a bit, then the others sent me home, knowing I wouldn’t be much help, even on my day off. They all had things to do, and I had already done the paperwork. Plus, even though I didn’t really want to be alone, I knew I needed sleep.

  So, I sat down on my couch and just stared at my phone, wondering what to do and why I felt so lonely even though I had just been surrounded by people.

  When I scrolled through my contacts, seeing without really seeing, I hovered over Harmony’s name. But I didn’t text her, didn’t call her.

  She had enough to deal with without my issues.

  She had enough on her plate without me.

  Chapter Nine

  Sometimes I wonder if staying is too hard. Then I remember what I lost. What you gave me.

  - Harmony to Moyer. 10 months ATE.

  * * *

  Harmony

  I looked up at the big house that had brought me so many memories—stressful, loving, and a little worrying. That home had been the one to welcome me when I first met Moyer, even though I’d been so scared to meet my boyfriend’s parents.

  Because, at the time, that meant something serious. Meeting the parents was always serious.

  And I hadn’t really met many parents before I met Moyer’s.

  Yes, I had met a few when I was in high school, and even one set in college, but they hadn’t been as serious because my relationships weren’t as serious.

  But then I met Moyer. And everything had changed.

  So now, I was once again standing in front of the home Moyer had grown up in, the house he had stayed in for all his years until he moved out for school, then to live on his own, and then with me.

  All of his early years had been spent here.

  And some of my most cherished memories were from within in these walls—a holiday morning, a fire roaring with hot cocoa in our mugs.

  Even mimosas after opening gifts.

  We had alternated holidays, and it had been easy because both sets of our families lived in the same state.

  His family had opened their arms to me even if I was wary at first. I hadn’t known if they would like me. I hadn’t known if I would be good enough for their child.

  But they’d loved me, and it was weird. Not weird that they loved me, but in retrospect, maybe it was strange that we clung to each other as hard as we did after Moyer died.

  Maybe some people would’ve taken a step back, would’ve slowly walked away or even harshly shut that door so the memories didn’t hurt as much.

  But that wasn’t something I ever wanted to do. It wasn’t something Patrick and Kate wanted to do either.

  So we had clung to each other, then given each other some space, and now we had become friends.

  I was still their daughter-in-law, they were still my in-laws, but now, we were friends, as well. We did things together, and they hung out with my parents, too.

  It was just…different.

  Like I was different.

  “Are you just going to stand out there and look at our house all day?” Kate asked, leaning against the doorway. She had her arms folded over her chest, her brows lifted. Her eyes danced.

  Kate sometimes reminded me so much of Moyer that it startled me. Yes, Patrick was almost an older, mirror-image of Moyer but Kate had his smile and those eyes, and that’s why Moyer’s mother always reminded me of him.

  Sometimes, it was hard to look into those eyes, knowing that Moyer wasn’t here. Other times, it was a sweet memory.

  It was harder to look at Patrick. To see the man Moyer would never become.

  But then again, time did soothe wounds, even if not as quickly as I might’ve liked.

  “Sorry,” I called out, shaking my head, smiling. I walked up to the house and hugged Kate hard, sinking into her soft hold as Kate’s arms went around me, clinging to me.

  We hugged well, as if we were each other’s lifelines. Though it wasn’t like it had been right after, or even the year following.

  Now, we were just two people with a shared past, and misery that didn’t take up all of our lives anymore.

  I didn’t think others would understand that.

  I didn’t think that my friends actually understood why I still hung out with my in-laws sometimes. Maybe they thought I wasn’t getting over my past, but getting over it wasn’t really the reason I was moving on.

  Moyer was my past, but his memory would always be a part of my present—and my future. And because I actually liked Kate and Patrick, I tended to want to spend time with them. Plus, it was good for us to remember Moyer, though we didn’t put him at the forefront of our conversations or try to make it seem as if nothing had changed.

  We were all growing, even if it might not make sense to an outsider. I told myself I wasn’t just rationalizing that, even though it sometimes felt like it.

  “Okay now, Harmony, let’s get you inside. Patrick is manning the stove today since we’re having stew. And you know him and his love for his stews. I made a set of pumpernickel rolls with a new recipe and, of course, Patrick taste-tested one just to make sure they were good enough for you.”

  Kate led me inside and helped me with my coat as she went on about the rolls and Patrick’s stew. I loved the fact that they were both good cooks and each had their favorites. I never knew who was going to cook for me when I stopped by.

  “Don’t forget dessert,” I said, grinning. “I didn’t make the pie, sadly, but I got it from a bakery-slash-café downtown called Taboo. It’s one of my favorite places to go for a snack or a sandwich.”

  Kate’s eyes lit up as I handed over the pie I had set down on the bench when I first walked in. “Oh, it looks so yummy. Patrick and I keep meaning to go down there and visit the new shops and things, but we never find the time.”

  And it would probably be too hard for them to go near where Moyer had been killed. Kate didn’t say that, but I understood. I’d forced myself to visit the place and try to keep up with my routine in the city even if it hurt more days than I wanted to count. But I was doing okay, something that I knew Kate and Patrick appreciated even if they might not understand all the time.

  “Well, now I’m bringing Taboo to you. And the place is right next to a tattoo shop if you’re ever in the mood for ink.” I winked, and Kate rolled her eyes.

  “You know I hate needles.”

  “True, but you’d look good with a fairy on your shoulder.” We walked into the kitchen as we talked, and she just shook her head.

  “You and your friends can have all the ink you want. Me? I’m a little too chicken for that.”

  “Did I hear ink? Is my girl getting a tattoo?” Patrick asked as he walked to me, holding his arms out wide for a hug.

  “Neither of us is getting a tattoo, Patrick,” Kate said as she set down the pie on the kitchen island. “But Harmony did bring us pie from a little shop downtown. Kinky or something?”

  I burst out laughing as Patrick met
gazes with me, his brows waggling. “It’s Taboo, Kate. Not Kinky.”

  “I don’t know, kinky sounds kind of tasty,” Patrick said before giving his blushing wife a kiss on the cheek.

  “Paddy,” she whispered and then pushed him away, still blushing.

  I just shook my head, turning away slightly, grateful that the two were so loving with one another. They hadn’t been for a while, each pulling away as they grieved their son, but now they seemed to be in a new phase. Not back to where they were because no one could really go back, but at least leaning on one another again.

  “Okay, so we have pie, stew, and rolls,” Patrick said, rubbing his stomach. “I think we’re going to be very full and happy after dinner.”

  I nodded, agreeing. “Oh, yes.” I moved over to look into the pot boiling away on the stove. “What kind of stew is this?”

  “It’s a pork stew. I know I usually go with beef or venison, but I figured pork would be a little bit like a treat for us. It’s a different recipe, one that I haven’t used before, but I tweaked it a bit.”

  He winked at me, and I just smiled. The man knew what he was doing when it came to soups and stews so I trusted him, even if I’d never actually had a pork stew before.

  “I know I invited you over here for dinner, but remember I also said it was for something else?” Kate asked, a little hesitation in her voice.

  I nodded, running my fingers over the marble countertop. I was a little worried about what she was going to say because sometimes our conversations weren’t the easiest. But they weren’t supposed to be. Not when what we’d gone through still sat between us.

  “I remember. What can I do to help?”

  Kate’s eyes brightened for just a moment before her face turned into a slight frown. “There are a few more boxes that we need to go through in the basement, and while Patrick and I could easily do it ourselves—no, easy is not the right word. We could do it ourselves, but we’d really like your help.”

  I swallowed hard and nodded. Sometimes, I felt like I was just numb enough that I could do things and have it not hurt.

  Because I knew we were going through Moyer’s things. He had lived here for a long time, it just made sense that there would be stuff here for him. Things that had been his.

  “Of course, I’ll help.”

  “If it’s too hard, we won’t. There’s no rush. I just figured maybe we could go through a box every once in a while. Because I don’t want to push him out, but I also don’t want to feel like we’re sinking into everything we once had and forgetting what we could have now.”

  I went over to Kate and hugged her tightly. “I know exactly what you mean. Don’t worry. We’ll get through this.”

  “And we’ll have warm baked goods and stew and everything that’s probably not the best for us once we’re done,” Patrick said, wrapping us both in his arms in a big group hug.

  I followed them down to the basement and sat on a couch that they’d put down there.

  They had renovated the space a few years ago, and Moyer had always wondered why they’d delayed so long. Apparently, they had waited to put in new bedrooms until they were ready for grandkids.

  I ignored the little clutch in my belly, knowing that they wouldn’t have any grandchildren in this house. Because even if I ever got married again, if I ever found a person I could actually trust and had children with them, Patrick and Kate wouldn’t be their grandparents.

  It was such an odd dichotomy, but it was something that others lived through daily. Something that I lived through daily. I didn’t know how long Kate and Patrick would be in my life, but for now, they were. Regardless of what happened in the future, I hoped that we’d find a way to still connect. Maybe not as close as we were now, but we could still be family, even if titles were such a weird thing to have.

  “Okay, I have two boxes. We can go through one or both. But they’re from Moyer’s college room. He stuck a bunch of his stuff in the back, and I forgot we had it.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know he’d put stuff here from that late in life,” I said, frowning and leaning forward a bit to look.

  “He tended not to know what to do with certain things, so he gave them to us for safekeeping.”

  I nodded, remembering, and sank to the floor between Kate and Patrick. “That makes sense. I think Mom and Dad have a few things of mine, as well. Even though I have enough room for it now, I sort of like having a place in their home.”

  “Well, you’re their baby, you’ll always have a place there.” Kate cleared her throat. “And a place here, too. Even when you’re ready to move on and find a new part of your life, you’ll always have a place here.”

  I swallowed hard, squeezing her shoulder before going to open the box. There really wasn’t much to say to that, knowing that the words Kate said were absolutely true. We were all trying to figure out exactly how to move on, how to live this new life of ours, how to be in this new normal, even though we failed sometimes.

  But sometimes, just sometimes, we did okay.

  “Oh,” I said, sucking in a breath. I looked down at the box, my hands going over some of the wrappings. “They’re photos.”

  “Yeah,” Kate said. “So many pictures. I sort of got in the habit of framing some of the ones he sent to us and then giving them back to him.”

  I smiled, looking down at one of the photos of Moyer smiling with a group of guys I didn’t recognize. “This must be from high school.”

  “He was like that at home, too. He liked having photos out but never got around to actually framing them himself.”

  “And then he found the app,” Kate said, and the three of us laughed.

  “I swear, the guy could’ve just printed them off on his computer and put them in frames himself, but he liked his app so much better,” Patrick said.

  I handed over the photo from high school and then picked up the next. My stomach clenched, and my hand shook as I brushed my fingertips softly against the young faces that stared back at me.

  “I always liked our wedding photos,” I said. “They weren’t perfect. I had dark circles under my eyes since I’d had a headache and a stomach ache the night before and hadn’t been able to really sleep. And Moyer had had one too many drinks, so he wasn’t feeling well either. But in the end, it hadn’t mattered, and our photos proved that.”

  I grinned, looking down at our young faces and then at Violet, Sienna, and Allison.

  My heart lurched again as I stared down at Allison’s sweet face. Her eyes were so happy. It looked as if she could face the world, and that nothing could ever come at her that she couldn’t handle.

  But that had been a lie.

  Something had been hidden deep inside, and she’d lost her life because of it.

  It wasn’t easy to think about Allison. But then again, it wasn’t easy to think about Moyer either.

  Two bright lights in my life were now gone, and I was still here.

  And, because of that, I’d learned that I needed to just breathe. And live.

  Even if it wasn’t always easy.

  Tears fell as we looked down at more photos, some from when Moyer was in high school, others from college and after. It was like looking back at a past that I’d been a part of in some respects but not others. So many of these people had touched Moyer’s life—some I had never met, and some I had known and cared for.

  Kate had to leave the room at one point so she could wipe her face and blow her nose.

  Patrick had watched her go as if not sure whether he should join her or let her be alone. In the end, he’d given her space and had given me a sad look.

  We need to do this, needed to go through this. But I wasn’t the same person I had been when I lost Moyer, and I was stronger for it.

  Because I didn’t try as hard. I didn’t feel like I was losing part of myself as if I had lost a limb.

  Instead, it was like looking back into memories and knowing that I had been happy.

  That I could be happy again.
<
br />   And that trust in fate, knowing that I could be happy without Moyer…sometimes that hurt more than anything.

  But it was what he would’ve wanted. It’s what I would’ve wished for him.

  So, I was going to be happy.

  Hence the dating and the girl-time and being with Brendon.

  Because when I was with Brendon, he made me smile. He was just one of those friends that I could trust. Lean on.

  And when I looked down at the selfie of him and Moyer smiling, one that Moyer’d had framed using his app, I frowned.

  We were all so connected, the layers of friendships and relationships so convoluted that sometimes I forgot that Brendon had been so close to Moyer.

  That I was close to them both.

  I had known Brendon for longer than I had Moyer, and yet I had chosen Moyer. It was Moyer that I loved.

  Moyer that I had married.

  And now I looked at myself and thought about all the times I had talked to Brendon in the past few weeks. The fact that when I needed to talk, when things got to be too much, I called him.

  I thought about the fact that we texted almost every day, and we had lunches like we used to—only without someone between us.

  Maybe I was leaning too much.

  Because Brendon wasn’t mine. He was a friend, yes, but maybe I was only friends with Brendon because I missed Moyer.

  I rubbed my chest, thankful that Patrick and Kate weren’t looking at me.

  Now that I thought about it, it worried me that I was trying to lean on what I’d once had by connecting to a person who was a part of that past.

  Yes, I was friends with the Connollys, and all of them were connected to Violet and Sienna, too.

  But it was different with Brendon.

  And that worried me.

  Because I didn’t want to hurt him, and I didn’t want to be hurt again. I didn’t want there to be a misunderstanding or, even worse, have me lean too much on him and end up hurting us both in the end.

  I didn’t know when Brendon had become the first person on my mind. I didn’t know when that had begun.