She never calls back.
I open my eyes.
The supply closet. Her scent still clinging to my coat.
I can’t keep doing this.
That night,I sit on the porch until the cold numbs my fingers.
Theo brings me a whiskey without being asked, sitting down next to me without saying anything.
We stay like that for a while. The silence isn’t uncomfortable. It never is with Theo.
“She looked so tired,” I finally say. “Different. But the same, too.”
He nods slowly. “Maeve said she’s been helping Eileen around the house. Keeping to herself mostly.”
Above us, Nate’s footsteps pace his bedroom. Back and forth. Back and forth. He’s been up there since dinner, hasn’t said a word to either of us. Nate’s always been the stoic one, the one who keeps it together no matter what. But Cara’s been back a week and he’s coming apart at the seams.
“I couldn’t let her talk,” I say. “She tried to explain and I just—” I take a drink. “I shut her down and walked out.”
“Maybe we should hear her out.”
I look at Theo sharply. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m not saying forgive her. I’m saying...” He stares out at the dark yard. “Ten years is a long time to wonder. Maybe knowing is better than not knowing.”
“And what could she possibly say?” The words come out harder than I mean them to. “What explanation makes it okay that she disappeared? That she let us think she was dead for three days? That she never once reached out—not a call, not a letter, nothing?”
Theo doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have one. None of us do.
Above us, Nate’s pacing stops. Then starts again.
Part of me wants to go to her. Show up at Eileen’s place, let her say whatever she needs to say. But every time I think about it, I remember sitting in that parking lot with wilting flowers, waiting for someone who never came.
I did the right thing today. Keeping my distance. Protecting myself.
But I still wonder what she would have said.
“I need more time,” I say finally. “I’m not ready.”
Theo doesn’t push. Just squeezes my shoulder and heads inside, leaving me to the cold.
I’m about to follow when my phone buzzes.
Tessa Lang:Reminder - Valentine’s fundraiser is Saturday. I still need your bio for the bachelor auction program. Please send by tomorrow. And make it good - “town doctor” isn’t enough to get bids.
Right. The fundraiser. I agreed to be in the bachelor auction weeks ago, back when Tessa was desperate to fill her lineup. Stand on a stage, smile, let some nice woman bid on a dinner date for charity. Easy enough.
I type out a quick response about sending the bio tomorrow and pocket my phone.
At least it’s something to focus on. Something normal. Town doctor does his civic duty, raises money for the community center roof, makes small talk over dinner with whoever wins him. I can do that.
I head inside, past Nate’s door where the pacing has finally stopped, and lie in bed staring at the ceiling.
Four days until the auction. Then back to my regular life. Patients and paperwork and pretending I’m fine.
I can do this.
