by Drew Elyse
But right then, it was my turn.
“Goodbye, gypsy.”
KATE
He left.
He heard me say those things, and he left.
What did I do?
Go after him, Katie.
I couldn’t.
It was what I wanted to do. I wanted to run into that lot and throw myself in front of his car to stop him if I had to.
“I knew deep down you weren’t ready.”
He was right, wasn’t he? Those things I’d just said, that was all the proof he needed.
“What are you doing, Kate?” Daz pressed. “Go after him.”
God, the Larson boys.
“I can’t,” I rasped.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he demanded. “You want to. I can fucking see it. Don’t let him walk away like that.”
Another time, I’d want to laugh at Daz—the former consummate player since before he even had that name—being the one demanding some big romantic gesture.
Right then, every piece of me was too much in tatters to even begin to remember how to laugh.
“I have to,” I answered instead.
“Kate.”
I turned to look at him, so much like his brother. Not just in looks, but in that never-hesitate-to-act attitude.
“He was right. I wasn’t ready. I can’t go after him until I am. I owe him that.”
I had to let him walk away, even if it killed me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Liam
“Hi, Dad.”
I hadn’t known exactly where I was headed when I drove away from the clubhouse. When I ended up at the cemetery, I wondered if it was that familiar experience of seeing the stark grief in the eyes of someone I loved that led me there.
Or maybe, right now, I just really fucking needed my dad.
I sat on the ground, my back against the side of his gravestone. It was how I’d always talked to him since I was old enough to start coming here alone.
“It’s been a while. My fault, obviously. I should have done better about that.”
I paused, not like I expected him to respond, but just because I wasn’t sure what to say.
“I’m not sure what to fill you in on. I feel like Mom keeps you up to date, or you watch it all yourself. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just here talking to myself because you’re gone. Fuck, I hope that’s not it.
“I came by when I got that spot at Sailor’s Grave. It’s fucking great there. The team is awesome. The art they’re all creating, it pushes me every day. Sketch, my boss, he’s one of the most talented tattooists I’ve ever known personally. I’m finally surrounded by people that love the art the way I do, the way I know you did.”
Dad wasn’t heavily tattooed, not the way I was. None of his were visible when he had a shirt on. He had a few though, all ones that meant something to him. All ones that were done by men he considered masters. Including Sailor’s Grave’s original owner, Carson.
Carson has done the eagle that had adorned the back of Dad’s right shoulder. When I first came to Sailor’s Grave, he’d done one of his rare retirement-breaking days in the shop to give me the same one on the inside of my upper arm.
I looked down at it now, that bit of ink that kept me connected to my dad.
Tattoos had that kind of power, both when you got them, and occasionally when you were the one that gave them
I knew that as well as anyone now.
“Connor’s talking about wanting something done. It freaks Mom out, but I think it’ll be pretty cool. He hasn’t told her yet, but he wants to get a green ribbon for traumatic brain injury awareness. Tracy and I already decided to do it with him. We’re going to plan a time to go together once we can all sit down with Mom and talk to her about it.
“Tracy, our big shot attorney, she’s got a boyfriend. She says he’ll be coming with her when we have that chat. Mom doesn’t know that, either. By all accounts, he sounds like a good guy. If not, I’d say I’ll take care of it, but Tracy can tear him apart six ways I could never think of without lifting a finger.”
I chuckled—or tried to anyway. My heart wasn’t in it.
I wasn’t convinced it was even in my own chest anymore.
It took a while for me to think of what I was supposed to say next. I know Mom would have told him everything about how she was doing, how she felt. Which left only one thing…
“I fell in love. It was stupid and I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help myself.
“Kate—fuck, Dad—you’d love her, too. She’s sweet and beautiful, and she’s got so much sass when she lets it loose. And she works in a bakery of all places.”
I got my sweet tooth from him. When I was a kid, we’d sneak treats from the kitchen, hiding them from Mom. He’d take random trips with me or all three of us to get ice cream or candy.
“She’s a mom. Her son, Owen, is great. He’s so excited by the world. He’s super interested in art right now, that and motorcycles. He’s the light of her world, and I get it. It’s hard not to feel that around him.
“But she’s broken. She loved Owen’s father. She loved him as fiercely as I’ve ever seen. He died in an accident like we lost you, and she’s been lost ever since. My beautiful gypsy girl that can’t find her way out of that grief.”
Except she wasn’t mine, was she?
“I don’t even know what my point is. I guess even if I had to let her go, I need you to know about her. She’s important to me, the first new thing in my life that really mattered. It always seemed silly to come tell you about the day-to-day bullshit, but she’s different. She’ll always be different.
“I wish you could meet her and understand. I wish you could be here to tell me if walking away was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done because I just don’t fucking know. I wish we’d gotten more time.”
That last wish was becoming a little too familiar.
It wasn’t a mystery how I ended up where I did next.
I parked out front of Mom’s house and sat in the car for a long time trying to brace myself. Telling her, having to face a reaction to the news, would be different. But Mom would understand why I had to do it.
When I felt somewhat prepared to deal, I went up to the door and knocked. It didn’t occur to me until right before it opened that I’d even done it. I never knocked at Mom’s. Must’ve been how fucked my head was.
Even Mom was startled to see it was me on the other side of the door, and then her face fell.
“What’s wrong?”
“I had to let her go.”
She didn’t say anything. She just went into full mother hen mode, ushering me inside and putting on a pot of coffee, like serving up something for me to drink while I spilled my guts was going to make the situation better.
Though, once the mug was between my hands, it did. If only because it was comforting, familiar. That feeling got me through telling her everything.
“And the worst part is” —I finished— “I can’t even be mad. I made this choice. I put myself in this position even though I knew this was where I could end up.”
I looked down at the mug that I hadn’t touched. The warmth that had been radiating from it into my hands was fading.
“I think you did the right thing.”
Raising my head, I saw Mom looking out the window.
I wanted to believe that.
“But I also think you’re wrong,” she added, looking back at me.
“What do you mean?”
There was a look on her face, that sympathetic and yet disappointed look that only a mother could give when she thought you’d fucked up or done something stupid.
“You believed her.”
“Yes?” It came out as a question because I had no clue what she was talking about. Yes, I’d believed everything Kate said. She hadn’t said anything I’d have questioned.
“She said she doesn’t love you, and you believed her.”
No. No, not happening.
“Don’t.”
She shook her head. “Now you’re being just as bad.”
“Mom,” I tried.
“I remember that feeling, the defensiveness. When someone would accuse me of getting on with life, which I was. It was what I should have been doing, and they only meant to point out that I was doing well. But it felt like they were saying I didn’t love my husband enough. That if I had loved him the way I should have, moving on wouldn’t be an option.
“When she said that about falling in love, she wasn’t thinking about you, not at all. She was stuck on the insinuation that she didn’t love him because how could she and be feeling those things for someone else?
“We hear so much about ‘one true loves’ and it’s bullshit.” Holy fuck. I didn’t think I’d ever heard my mom swear so candidly. “It sounds great, but if you’ve lost someone, it becomes this trap of feelings like you can never experience those feelings again. I loved your father. I will always love him. He was a wonderful man who gave me three beautiful children, and he gave us so much in the time he had. And it took me a long time to open myself up again and accept it, but I love Derek as well. Feeling that for him doesn’t tarnish what I felt before, and I know you know that.
“Kate, though, she’s still figuring that out. But I’ll tell you one thing, I think she had a very hard lesson in how true that is when you left.”
“Lee…I…”
I remembered the quiet desperation that wrapped around that name, a name that was only for the two of us. I remembered that step toward me.
No, I couldn’t do this. I shut the thoughts down.
“I can’t think like that. I can’t convince myself you’re right and live with this hope that there’s still a chance. I did that once, and I had to face the woman I love, so shattered I’ll never forget the sight.”
My eyes dropped to the table, trying to focus on anything but those images coming to mind again.
It was then I noticed her hand. I reached out without a word, holding it up. The engagement ring Derek had shown me weeks ago was on her finger.
Despite the misery at the state of my own fucked love life, I smiled for her. It didn’t feel natural, not the way it would have even yesterday, but I guess that wasn’t surprising. I wondered how long the numbness would last, or if this was going to be a new normal.
“So he finally asked.”
Her own smile was wistful. “Last night.”
“And you were mad at Tracy for keeping dating quiet?”
She shook her head, not laughing. Though, my delivery was flat to say the least. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around it. I was going to call you both tonight.”
“I’m happy for you, Momma.” That I meant. To the bottom of my heart, I wanted her to be happy. Derek gave that to her. They gave it to each other.
“Thank you, honey.” She looked down at the ring for a long moment, then to me. “I never thought I’d have another ring in this spot, but I came around for the right man.”
I got what she was saying, not that she veiled it all that well. But there was a big difference there. Mom had made the choice to take Dad’s rings off a long time ago. She’d had them framed with a picture of the two of them on their wedding day, but she’d stopped wearing them.
When I’d walked out that door, Kate still had hers on.
And didn’t that say it all?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kate
This was crazy, I knew that.
I’d driven past three times in as many days, leaving each time because I couldn’t summon up the guts. Today, I wasn’t letting myself run away again.
It was probably a huge mistake that was about to blow up in my face, but I had to try.
I owed it to him to try.
I owed it to myself to try.
With a breath that quaked in my lungs, I raised my hand to knock on the door. The instinct to flee was so strong I had to lock my knees to keep myself still. My blood was rushing in my ears so loud I didn’t even hear the door unlatch, just saw it pulling open.
Margot’s face was blank as she looked at me.
I could only imagine what she must be thinking, what I would be thinking if someone had put Owen through what I’d done to Liam then had the gall to show up at my door. I’d imagined her slamming it in my face a hundred times since I’d first thought up this plan.
That she was still standing there meant it was already going better than I thought.
“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see. I know you probably hate me. Right now, I can’t even begin to blame you for that. But I’m here because a few months ago, before we even met, Liam told me that I could turn to you if I needed someone who understood what I was going through.”
I swallowed hard. “I still can’t let it go. I can’t stop the panic that comes creeping up when I even think of trying. For the last three years, aside from my son, that grief was all I had. Then Liam came into my life. And for the first time since I lost my husband, I didn’t have to fake being okay. With him, I just was.
“But I let that fear get the better of me, and I hurt him. And as angry as I’m sure you are at me for it, I can promise you it doesn’t run as deep as how much I hate myself for doing that. I hate that it took watching him walk away for me to realize that I need him, but that’s how it happened. I need him, and I want him back, but I won’t do it knowing I could ever cause him to hurt that way again. So, I’m here, hoping against hope that you’ll help me figure out how to move on and be the woman your son needs, too.”
I felt like panting when I finished, like unloading all of that had been as physically trying as it had been emotionally. Her expression hadn’t changed as I spoke, and it still held fast as I stood there, worried that even bearing my heart—whatever remains of it were still in one piece—wasn’t enough.
Then, it fell into a look of sympathy, and it made me feel like breaking down in tears right there.
“Come inside, honey.”
“You can’t rush this,” Margot coached me.
Was this rushing?
It had been a week and a half since I’d shown up at her door. We’d met three more times before this. Each time, she encouraged me to tell her about Joel. Everything, right from the beginning.
I’d told her about those first weeks when he’d started pursuing me, how I’d written him off entirely and didn’t regret it for a minute. If I hadn’t, I’d probably have been another in a line of chicks he’d already dated and moved on from. Instead, we became so much more.
I’d told her about the high school years, and what it was like setting off on our own at eighteen with nothing but what we’d saved up with after-school jobs and no fallback if we failed.
I’d told her about having Owen and all the joy it brought.
I’d also told her about the fights, the times the tight budget got to us and it felt like the world was against us, the fact that we’d had to learn the hard way again and again that relationships weren’t a cakewalk. It did no good to romanticize things, to forget all the times that Joel and I nearly broke. Those were all a part of the real story, and it was that one I wanted to remember.
We talked a lot about remembering.
“I went to a support group for a while after losing Heath,” Margot told me. It’d been hours since I’d shown, and she still hadn’t kicked me out. No, she was talking about how to help me. “One of the women there shared a piece of advice she’d gotten after losing her son. And that was to take fifteen minutes a day to grieve. Take that time to be alone, no distractions, and feel it all. No putting on a face for others, no keeping it bottled so it’s manageable. Let it out completely, even when it feels like too much. Each day gets just that little bit easier.”
I’d started that the next morning. Now, every day, I gave myself that time to let loose all the pain. I wasn’t sure it was hurting less yet, but it was getting easier to release the hold on it. That first day, it had taken me more than the fifteen minutes
just to manage that.
Today’s task was taking even longer.
We’d been sitting here for an hour, but Margot didn’t pressure me. No, she was reassuring me that this all needed to happen at my own pace.
“I know,” I replied. “I think I’m ready, though.”
And I did, but it didn’t mean this wasn’t hurting.
Because right then I was preparing to take off Joel’s rings.
It was funny how grief could make simple things take on a life of their own. When Joel was alive, this wasn’t hard at all. I took my rings off all the time. I never wanted to wear them when I was cleaning or doing anything where I was afraid they could get damaged or lost. Joel made a point to let me know he wasn’t a fan of me leaving the house without them on, but it’d only happened a couple times by mistake anyway.
Now? I hadn’t removed them. Not once in three years. Everything I’d done, everywhere I went, they were on my finger. They’d been scratched and dulled by lack of care, but they were still beautiful. They’d need a little work to go on display in the case Margot had helped me find, but it could be done.
There was a lot of work to be done all around.
One step at a time.
Holding my breath, I clasped my engagement ring between two fingers. It took a little wiggle to get it around my knuckle, then it slid right off. I held it there, studying it. It wasn’t extravagant. Actually, by most standards, it was probably lackluster. I knew all the extra hours Joel had put in to get it, though. He’d said so many times that he wanted to replace it with something nicer as we did better, but I refused. This was the ring that he asked me to be his wife with, and that made it perfect.
My hand shook as I reached out and slid it into the velvet slot where it would live now. Still close, always there for me to see when I needed to, but not a security blanket I could hide behind anymore.
I dropped my head, clutching my eyes tight. Halfway. I was halfway through this, and I was managing.
