I don’t need to ask the reason for the apology. He was with me that night, before I made the choice to drive. Of my entire crew, he tried the hardest to contact me after. Once, he tried to see me in prison. I refused his visit.
Avery parks. She opens her mouth to speak, but stops, jaw dropping and eyes bulging. Her car is surrounded by men wearing underwear outside their shorts. Gutierrez has his handsout to the side and shuffles like a crab. Avery laughs until tears roll down her face.
I climb out, pointing at Gutierrez’s crotch. “You’re wearing underwear.”
“Can’t free ball when you run,” he quips.
Avery takes a picture of the mayhem, with me at the center.
The guys go into the restroom and switch their clothes.
We eat an obscene amount of pancakes. My dad insists on picking up the tab. He sits beside me, and tells everyone about my work in Sugar Creek.
He brags.
About me.
Avery’s hand finds mine, and she gives it a squeeze.
Avery
I watch Gabriel speak, the way his mouth moves and how he gestures.
He explains to a crew of rapt firefighters how burning wood in a controlled environment can lead to art.
“You always knew how to do this?” Plotnik asks, eyebrows lifted.
“Yeah.”
Tomcat sits back, his plate of pancakes mostly untouched. “You’ve been holding out on us, hero.”
Hero. It still fits, despite everything that has happened.
The guys are talking, asking questions, and getting out their phones to look up Intricate Wood Works on social media.
I hope Gabriel sees how loved he is. How much he belongs, simply by being himself.
I watch him hold court, and my mind wanders. In his expressions I see the man he used to be, back when we were new. What he looked like the first time I saw him, wearing all that heavy gear and appearing in my room, lifting me up and carrying me to safety. Our first handshake, our first kiss, the fireworks detonating in my stomach. The thrills, the glory, the agony, the angst. I see it all. I think I’ll keep some of it with me. Not to hold over him, but to remind me of what we carry between us, how fragile it all is.
Day by day, I plan to shed some of it. Let go of what hurt and keep what made us good.
All of this, everything, is a choice.
I’ve chosen to be here, to show up, to forgive, to love.
EPILOGUE
AVERY
Two YearsLater
“That was the last one.”I sit back on my heels and toss the packing tape on the ground.
Gabriel picks up the box and adds it to the stack on the table. Our dining room is unrecognizable. Every inch is piled with boxes.
“Are you sure you closed the store?” I ask, eyebrows raised. I want the holidays to be about us, not Gabriel’s business or my next book. Jill supports my holiday break, especially because I’m on deadline for the second of the three-book deal she secured for me eighteen months ago. She wants me to return from my break inspired and ready to write.
So do I. So does my publisher.
