by Devney Perry
“Oh.” Her eyes dropped to the table. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I’m still sorry.”
Her eyes flooded with tears, but she blinked them dry, forcing a smile. “I’m okay. It scared us all. I don’t want to lose you too.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I promised.
“Good. How are you feeling?”
My first response was to tell her I was great. That things would be fine and set back to rights in no time at all. But I was so tired, I didn’t have the energy to lie.
I met her gaze. “I’m struggling.”
“With the pain?”
“Yes. No.” I blew out a long breath. “With the fact that I almost died two months ago. I almost left Kali and Max without a dad. And Molly . . .”
My throat closed just thinking about it. I’d worked so hard for so many years to prepare for this kind of accident. To make sure that if something happened to me, they’d be covered.
I’d been blind to what really mattered.
We’d gotten another letter two weeks ago. Molly and I had both read it and then put it aside. There hadn’t been much to talk about. I had been failing her. I’d known it. I’d written it. But I hadn’t done a damn thing to change it.
“You know what’s really messed up?” I asked Poppy. “I’m glad.”
“That you lived?” she teased. “Yeah, we are too.”
“No, that it happened. I had a lot of time to think in the hospital. I had a lot of time to realize . . . I ruined my life, Poppy.”
“What? No. You didn’t. Once you get out of this chair and start physical therapy, you’ll be walking in no time. Your arm won’t be in the cast forever. You didn’t ruin your life.”
“No, I don’t mean the accident. After Jamie.” I swallowed hard, knowing this conversation would be difficult to have with Poppy, but she was the only person who might understand. “I ruined my life after Jamie died. I sabotaged it.”
“What do you mean?” When I didn’t answer, Poppy thought about it for a moment. Then she got it. “Oh. With Molly.”
“Not on purpose. Molly told me a while ago that you talked to her about the divorce. She told me you were worried that you were the reason we broke up.”
The color drained from Poppy’s face. “I was, wasn’t I?”
“No. Not you. It was me. Jamie’s death spooked me. I started working so hard. I wanted Molly and the kids to be set if something happened to me. And it just snowballed. I knew I wasn’t doing my best as a father and husband. But I was so focused on Alcott, on making sure I could . . . die.”
“Oh, Finn.” Poppy’s eyes filled with tears.
“I lost her. And I think . . . I think I pushed her away.”
“Not just because you were scared you would die.”
I nodded, wanting her to speak the thought I couldn’t. The thought that had plagued me as I spent days staring at the ceiling of my hospital room.
“You pushed her away because you were scared she would die.”
I dropped my head, my vision blurred with tears. “I ruined my life. Because I was scared that I’d end up—”
“Like me.” Poppy wiped a stray tear from her eye then took my hand. “You were scared you’d end up like me.”
“What the hell did I do?” I whispered.
Molly had tried so hard. She’d kept reaching out to pull me back to her. But I’d kept turning away, toward work. She’d pulled. I’d pushed.
Far too hard.
What had I pushed Molly to do?
“You have to fix it, Finn.”
“I know.”
“How?” Poppy asked. “What are you going to do?”
“Well, first, I need to get Alcott sorted. Then I—”
“Finn.” She rolled her eyes. “What’s it going to take for you to realize that Alcott isn’t your answer here? It’s been your demise.”
I gaped at her. “What? What do you mean?”
“You want a life with Molly?”
“Yes.” Admitting it out loud sent a jolt of electricity through my veins. I wanted a life with Molly and my kids. I wanted my family back.
“Then Alcott has to go.”
Never. “I’m not giving up my business.” It was my livelihood. It was the security that my family would be safe. It was also my passion. “There has to be a way to have both.”
Poppy thought about it for a moment. “You know what I never understood? How you and Molly could work together. When you guys started Alcott, I couldn’t believe you could work with each other all day and then go home together at night.”
“Well, we didn’t work together all day. She did the mowing at first then covered the office. I was doing the landscape jobs, so we weren’t together all day.”
“Yeah, but it was everything, to both of you.”
“Okay,” I drawled, wondering where she was going with this. But she didn’t give me anything more. “So?”
“It’s just an observation.” She shrugged. “How’s the accident investigation?”
“Fine. It’ll be fine.”
“Please, don’t do that. Don’t sugarcoat it like you do everything else. Tell me.”
“I don’t sugarcoat stuff.”
She laughed. “Oh, my dear brother. You are the king of downplaying your own stresses because you think you’re shielding the rest of us. When in reality, you just shut us out.”
No, I didn’t. Did I? I opened my mouth to argue, but Poppy shot me a look. Okay, maybe I did shut people out. “I don’t mean to.”
“I know. So let’s try this again. How is the investigation going?”
I frowned. “I just got off the phone with my lawyer before you got here. It’s going to be a goddamn mess.”
“It’ll get sorted.”
“Yeah, but it might take years. I’m just glad it was me. The thought of one of my employees getting thrown makes me sick.”
“It shouldn’t have happened to anyone. That seat belt shouldn’t have malfunctioned.”
“You’re right. But it was a fluke deal.”
According to my lawyer, the manufacturing company of that skid steer was dedicated to making it right. They’d arranged for me to have the new wheelchair-accessible van until I was walking again. They’d paid for a motorized wheelchair when my insurance would only cover a manual one. And they were covering a large portion of my medical expenses that my insurance wouldn’t pay. They were doing everything in their power so I wouldn’t sue.
Even if they hadn’t offered to help, I had no intention of suing. Accidents happened. Life was unfair. I knew that. Sometimes people were in the wrong place at the wrong time, like Jamie. And the last thing I wanted was to drag my family through a long and expensive legal battle.
One thing was for certain: I’d never gripe about paying my insurance premiums again. It was damn expensive for small businesses to provide insurance for their employees. I’d taken it for granted because in all the years I’d been in business, I’d never had a major claim. One guy got his hand gashed by a utility knife when he was opening a bag of mulch. Another broke his toe when a pallet of sod landed on his boot. Besides those minor injuries, we’d been extremely lucky.
Until now.
“Well, I’d better get back to work.” Poppy stood and kissed my cheek. I’d finally decided to shave my beard this morning and her kiss felt cold. “Call me if you need anything, okay? Or if you want to talk?”
“Thank you. And thanks for lunch.”
“You’re going to eat cereal as soon as I leave, aren’t you?”
“Yep. I’m tossing out this salad as soon as I hear the door close.”
Poppy laughed. “I’ll see you later.”
“Bye.”
She turned and walked toward the kitchen to leave, but before she disappeared down the hall, she paused and turned back. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Do me a favor. You said you ruined your life?”
I nodded. “Yeah.�
��
“Ruin it again.”
Ruin my life. The one where I spent most nights alone. The one where I didn’t get to see my kids every single day. The life where work was great but being at home was sad and lonely.
It was definitely time to ruin that life.
“What exactly are you doing?” I asked, rolling up behind Molly.
She dropped the binoculars from her eyes and smiled over her shoulder. “Mailbox stakeout.”
The mailbox was yards away, not miles. She’d brought those binoculars out here as a joke during the last mailbox stakeout, the one before the accident. I guess she’d kept them close.
She was seated on the top step of the porch. It was twilight, the last lingering rays of sunshine fighting to hold on to the day for a few more minutes. She looked beautiful, sitting there with her hair down, the wisps around her temples blowing with the warm breeze.
A sudden jolt made my heart skip. Had I still been hooked up to a monitor, the jump would have brought the whole nurses’ station rushing to my bedside. As it was, I was glad the fading light hid the color on my face.
God, I was nervous. Not just nervous, I was terrified. My free hand was strangling the control stick of the wheelchair. My palm beneath the cast was clammy. Even my toes were shaking.
The last time I’d felt this anxious around Molly had been during our first date. But here we were again, at the beginning.
How was I going to do this? I’d spent the better part of my day after Poppy left thinking about our conversation and how I was going to go about this with Molly. My conclusion? I had no earthly clue what I was doing. Molly might not even want me back.
She had every right to tell me to shove it. I hadn’t been the man she deserved. I hadn’t been the husband I’d promised to be. I’d let her down more times than I could remember.
None of those reasons were going to stop me from trying.
“I was wondering if you wanted to take a small woll around the block with me.”
“A woll?” she asked.
“Yeah. You walk. I roll. We woll.”
She giggled and stood, setting the binoculars aside. “Then let’s woll.”
I rolled forward a few inches but stopped when she came behind the chair, pushing it instead of letting me use the controls. “I can drive.”
“I don’t mind.” She didn’t rush as we set off down the ramp and onto the sidewalk. “It’s nice out tonight.”
In the distance, the laughter and shouting from the kids filled the air. “Sounds like the kids are having fun at the park.”
“I’m glad. They could use some days of fun before school starts. This summer’s been . . . something else.”
“How are you?” I asked.
“I’m good.”
“How about the real answer? Not the one you automatically give.” I looked over my shoulder. I wasn’t the only Alcott who sugarcoated their feelings. “How are you?”
“Sometimes I forget how well you know me.”
“Better than anyone, so don’t dodge my question.”
She walked us down five cement squares before answering. “I’m kind of tired. I haven’t been sleeping.”
“Why not?”
“Because of you.”
“Me?” The pain medications knocked me on my ass. Combined with the physical therapy I’d been doing and a heavy mental-stress load, when I was out, I was out. “I’ve been sleeping like the dead.”
“Bad joke, Finn.”
I winced. “Sorry. But seriously, why me?”
“I keep having this dream that I wake up and you’re gone. The only way I can go back to sleep is if I go in and check on you.”
Fuck. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. It might take me some time, but I’ll get past it.”
“Do you want me to sleep in your bed? So you don’t have to get up and check on me?”
“No.” She laughed. “The last thing we need is the temptation to jump into a physical relationship again.”
“Darling, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not jumping anywhere.”
She laughed. “True. But, no. I’ll be fine. Did you get your design layout done today?”
“Yep. After Poppy left, I knocked it out.”
“That’s good. She told me you guys had a nice talk. What was it about?”
“You.”
She slowed her pace. “Me?”
“We were talking about Alcott and how things used to be there. She said she was always so surprised that we could work together and live together.”
A slow smile spread across her face. Her eyes were aimed down the street as we walked, like she was staring into the past. “It was fun, wasn’t it? We were so poor and there was so much work. But there were some good days.”
“Some of the best.” I nodded. “Can we talk about the last letter for a minute?”
“I don’t know if there’s anything more to say. Like I told you the night I got it, I think you were too hard on yourself. I wish I had known how you were feeling about Jamie. I didn’t realize that was why you were working so hard.”
“I didn’t want you guys to be in a bad spot without me.”
“I see that now, and it helps to know that you were thinking of us. For a long time, I thought . . . never mind.”
“Thought what?”
“That you went to work to avoid me and escape.”
I hung my head. “Can you stop for a minute?”
“Sure.” She slowed my chair to a stop, clamping on the brake. Then she came around the front. “Are you okay? Is something hurting?”
“The truth?” I extended my left hand, waiting until she placed hers in my palm. Then I threaded our fingers together, turning our hands over and back, loving the way her slim fingers wound between mine. “I was avoiding you.”
She flinched but didn’t speak.
“Not intentionally. I think, after talking to Poppy today, a part of me was running away from you. Jamie’s death scared me more than I let on. I ran because I was afraid I’d lose you. And it would have killed me.”
“Oh.” She stared at our hands, letting my words sink in. “I, um . . . oh.”
“I let my own fears drive me away. I isolated myself. And for that, I’ll always be sorry.” I kept a firm grip on her hand, not wanting her to pull away. “I’m sorry, Molly.”
“I get it,” she whispered. “It hurts. But I get it. It makes me wish that we had talked more.”
“Me too.”
“None of us really did. Me. You. Poppy. We lost Jamie and life went on. But we didn’t heal. We buried our pain and our fears because it was too hard to talk about.”
“I was a coward.”
“You were just doing the best you could. We all were.” She gave my fingers a squeeze, then unlaced our hands to go behind the chair again. She pushed me farther down the sidewalk, until the light was nearly gone and it was time to go home.
It felt like there was more to say. That one apology wasn’t enough.
So I’d give her others, every day until the heaviness in my heart was unloaded.
The house came into view and I looked over my shoulder again. “Thank you for all the work you did while I was in the hospital.”
“Like I told you the last four times you thanked me, it was nothing.”
Fuck, I hated this goddamn chair. I hated that she was behind me. That I couldn’t stand and look her in the eyes so she knew how sincere I was.
“It wasn’t nothing. It saved me.”
She smiled. “It’s a good thing you still keep all of your passwords written down on a sticky note in your desk drawer. I would have been lost without that. Also, you shouldn’t write down your passwords.”
“I’ll remember that for next time.” I chuckled. “One last question before we get to the house?”
“You sure are full of questions tonight. That must have been some talk with Poppy.”
It had been. It had been the conversation I’d need
ed to have for years. “Do you feel like I took Alcott from you? It was ours. And then it was just . . . mine.”
The wheels of my chair slowed. Then stopped.
I waited for her answer, my heart thundering.
“Yes.” It was no louder than the breath of wind whispering across my cheek.
I hung my head. “I’m sorry.”
“I loved that place. I don’t think I realized just how much I’ve resented you for pushing me out.”
“I didn’t do it intentionally. I swear.”
“It’s in the past.” She started us forward again, our leisurely pace gone as she rushed home. “We’d better call for the kids, otherwise they’ll stay at the playground all night.”
And with that, the door to the past slammed shut. Damn.
The kids were already inside when we got home. They were jumping around the living room wildly, excited to have spent some time with their neighborhood friends. Hours passed before they went to bed. Molly let them stay up later than usual since there was no agenda for the next day, though I suspected it was really because she didn’t want to talk to me.
It was after midnight and we were both spent by the time she helped me use the bathroom and get into bed.
“Molly?” I called before she could slip out of the room.
“I’m tired, Finn. I can’t take any more talking tonight.”
I sighed, nodding. “Okay.”
It wasn’t okay.
I wanted to hold her. To tell her that she was the most incredible woman I’d ever known. To ask her if she thought we might have the energy to give us another go. To promise I’d never stop loving her, that she’d owned my heart since the day we’d met.
Instead, I simply said, “Sweet dreams.”
- LETTER -
Molly,
Is this really what you want? Me, living in the loft at the office? You, home alone with the kids? Because what the actual fuck just happened?
I came home Friday. We got in a fight that lasted two days. I was tired of arguing. I was tired of you saying you needed space, so I packed a bag to spend a night at the office. You told me to pack enough for a week.
