I don’t know how many minutes I stayed frozen in that doorway before approaching her. But it was long enough for my heart to break three times. Once at the sound of her voice in the otherwise silent room. The second, at the touch of her hand on an empty chair. And finally, at the sight of her sobbing into open hands. Whether I could’ve made different choices and changed Dean’s fate is irrelevant. She doesn’t deserve to know emptiness like this.
Her thick lashes drip blotches of ink down her cheeks like a midnight watercolor painting when she looks up at me.
“Reed?” She squints. I don’t blame her for not believing it’s me. In fact, I deserve a harsher reaction.
“I’d like to take this seat if that’s okay with you,” I say.
She nods, so I sit down beside her.
“It looks nice in here.” The sun filters through stained-glass windows. I haven’t spent much time in churches, but this is exactly how I pictured it: full of light.
“It feels like it’s missing something,” she says with a whimper. I reach over and brush away her tears with the pad of my thumb.
“Do you think it gets easier saying goodbye to someone you love if you do it enough times?” she asks.
“I’m not sure I’m the right person to ask. When I lose someone, I go too. I find somewhere else where I’m not reminded of their loss at every turn. If I’m somewhere new, I convince myself I don’t have to feel the gaping hole in my life.”
She reaches over and touches my chest. It’s comforting, her touch. So comforting that I could let myself get lost in it. I could close my eyes and let her hands ghost over my skin. Every part of me would feel safe in that sensation. And while it would be just as easy to run away, I promised Dean I would make the hard choice. I’m going to finally live up to that for once.
So I don’t touch her back. Not yet.
“I’m so sorry I left without saying anything. I’d convinced myself it would be better for the both of us if I went somewhere else. But nothing’s right without you. I want to fill all the empty seats in your life. The one at your kitchen table and on your front porch. Especially this one today.”
She hesitates, studying her clasped hands in her lap. “Does this mean you’re staying?” Her eyes drag a path up my chest to my face. “I’ve never asked you that. It seemed selfish, expecting you to choose my hometown. But I just don’t see myself leaving here now that I’m finally getting to know my dad.”
I pull away so I can look into her beautiful brown eyes and she’ll see that I mean it. “It’s the people, not the place for me.”
I think of that waitress from the diner. Hailey’s mySomeone I love, myReason for everything.
“And your dad is a great guy, Red. You deserve to know him.”
I didn’t think I’d be able to keep Jack’s promise. That itwould feel like I was hiding something from her. But I see now that they need this clean slate. There’s nothing notable anymore about the one night we spent together way back when. For so long that camping trip seemed like a thorn in my life. But with forgiveness, I’ve finally let it go. I’ll let Jack tell her in his own time if he ever wants to.
“And I promised to take my time with you, remember? I haven’t gotten to do that yet. I’m staying if you’ll let me.”
“I love you,” she says as she melts against my chest, her palm falling forward to catch herself. It rests on my seat. The one I plan to fill for the rest of her life.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
HAILEY
“Rookie! You came back,” a sloshed Daniels says. He has to stand on his tiptoes to shake Reed by the shoulder, and he sways forward a bit when he does it.
“You shaved your mustache,” Reed comments.
“I told you guys not to go to the pub,” I whine. They smell worse than they look.
“There’s not a lot to do around here,” Evans drawls next to him.
“You guys spent an entire summer in the woods and you’re telling me there’s nothing better you could have come up with than this?” I ask.
“We’ll be on our best behavior,” Marshall breathes out, bending his right arm at a ninety-degree angle and holding up three fingers. “Scouts honor.”
“We promise.” Murphy winks at me as he scrapes his fingers down his beard.
“I’m holding you to it!” I warn them all with a finger while my attention lasers in on the stream of Dean’s relatives trickling in and filling the chapel pews. As the line starts to slow, a woman in black stiletto heels and a pair of sunglasses scans thecrowd while hugging the door frame. Just like every other guy at my high school, including Dean, I can pick her out in a crowd. I keep my posture poised as I approach her rather than becoming the barreling ball of furry I want to be.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I whisper-shout, backing her into the foyer and out of the chapel entrance.
