I’m halfway to the door when he speaks again. “Are you coming to the memorial this year?”
The thirteenth anniversary of the accident is coming up. Ryan’s family holds a memorial every summer, and every summer, I find a reason to stay home.
I slowly turn back again, keeping a tight grip on my emotions. “You know I can’t.”
“Thirteen years, Jax. Don’t you think it’s time?”
Guilt spills out as anger, despite my attempt to rein it in. “It’s my fault he’s dead in the first place. Why the fuck would they want me there?”
Ben lets out a frustrated sigh. “You still believe that shit?”
“It’s the truth.”
“It’s bullshit, and we all know it.” He crosses his arms over his chest and stares at me pointedly. “Taking that guilt on yourself isn’t going to bring him back.”
“What are you, my therapist?”
“I’m yourfriend. And I’m tired of watching you sabotageyour entire life as some sort of fucked up atonement for something you didn’t do.”
I grind my teeth, choking back an angry retort Ben doesn’t deserve.
When I don’t respond, he continues. “Look, man. I don’t want to fight with you. Just think about it, alright? Phil and Marie ask about you every year. And Catherine…” He gets a far-off look in his eyes, like he’s no longer here but somewhere off in a memory. He clears his throat. “They don’t blame you for what happened.”
Ryan was their only son. When they lost him, their entire world crumbled. His younger sister, Catherine, was our shadow, and she all but disappeared when he died. The last time I saw any of them was at his funeral. Mama sends flowers every year, but it’s not enough to assuage my guilt. Nothing will ever be enough.
“I have to go. Thanks for the pickles.”
I shove through the door, painfully aware that I’m being an asshole. The cool air seeps through my jacket as I make my way back to the library. I take a detour down a side road to extend the journey and clear my head.
I hadn’t expected my quick errand to turn into some kind of solo intervention. I can’t go back to Callie with all of these contradictory emotions festering inside of me. She doesn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of my darkness.
A tiny bluebird perches itself on an empty branch, its vibrant feathers contrasting against the muted tones of the dormant landscape. Winter will be over soon, and color will come back into the world, but not for me.
Movement out of the corner of my eye draws my attention, and I find myself staring at Callie through the arched library windows. When she laughs, I can almost hear it through the glass.
Fuck. That smile.
If ever there were something that could bring me back to life, it would be Callie Cooper’s smile.
I blow out a harsh breath and leave the remains of my past on the sidewalk, securing the mask back in place, the one that hides all of my damage.
Tucking my hands behind my back, I approach Callie at the desk. “I have a surprise for you.”
Her brows draw together, and she eyes me warily. “For me?”
“Mhm. Since I didn't have a chance to bring you flowers for our first date, I thought I’d make up for it.”
Her face lights up as I hold out the jar of pickles. She hesitates reaching for them. “Just so we’re on the same page, this wasn’t a date.”
I snatch them back just before she can take them from me. “Then I guess I’ll keep my pickles.”
She crosses her arms over her ample chest. “You don’t even like them.”
I lied. I like pickles just fine, but not as much as I like making Callie smile. “It’s not about the pickles. It’s about the principle of them.”
She glances at the jar, then at me. Rolling her eyes, she says, “Fine. It was a date.”
“The first of many, Callie baby.”
