I’d taken Chloe’s advice to see a therapist about six months ago, right after Hannah had called. Even though I hated the sessions, because they forced me to talk about my feelings and all of the darkness and shame I kept locked up inside me, I was trying. Dr. Morgan said I had a negative self-image and forced me to stare at myself in the mirror and say positive phrases. It was stupid, but I did it anyway. I’d have tried anything at this point to feel better, to have this crushing weight of guilt and shame that threatened to drown me daily be lifted.
I thought I’d be able to forget about Hannah and focus on work, but instead she consumed my every waking thought. Wasshe happy? Was she married yet? Was Luke good enough for her?
I’d unblocked her number a week ago and attempted to text her about a dozen times but then thought better of it and re-blocked her. I wouldn’t appreciate a man texting my fiancée or wife. We needed a clean break and yet…I wished things had ended better. Blocking her phone and email had been immature, even if it had been a survival tactic I’d selfishly needed. But it didn’t give me any closure, according to Dr. Morgan.
Now it was Christmas Eve, and for the first time since I was ten years old, I wasn’t going to Willow Harbor. Dr. Morgan and Chloe thought I should go, that it would be good for me to see Luke and Hannah happy and together. That it would give me closure. But I didn’t want to see the one woman who made me feel alive with another man. That wasn’t closure—that was torture.
My cell phone rang, and I picked it up without looking at the caller ID.
“This is Jack.”
“Hey, Jack, it’s Cedric.”
I stiffened, sitting up straighter on my couch and muting the TV. “Hey. Did I miss an appointment?” I immediately pulled my phone away from my ear and started scrolling through my calendar in a panic.
He chuckled. “Relax, Jack. No. I just wanted to check with you. I never got your request to attend Willow Harbor for Christmas. I know it’s been preapproved on a yearly basis, but I do need the paperwork signed. We don’t have much time left together and I want to graduate you from the program with no issues.”
I should have had Chloe call and tell him I wasn’t going. When we’d had our first probation meeting, it was the one thing I’d begged for: a yearly trip to Willow Harbor.
“Sorry, sir. I should have told you. I’m not going this year.” I shifted nervously because now I wondered if that was a mistake. I was already missing a peppermint mocha from Peaches Café.
“Oh.” There was surprise in his tone. “I saw the email from Willow Harbor Community Church and assumed you were going to your friend’s concert again. So then I checked your paperwork and saw that it wasn’t signed. My mistake.”
Shock ripped through me. “What concert?”
“Your friend last year that had that spring concert at church? I looked it up to make sure you weren’t lying—sorry, part of my job—and unknowingly signed up for their email alerts. They are having a special concert tomorrow for Christmas and your friend Hannah Phillips is on the flyer.”
My heart hammered in my chest.
Another concert? For Christmas? I’d never even gotten to hear Hannah sing before. Maybe I could slip in the back and just listen. It could be the closure Dr. Morgan thought I needed.
“You know what? Would it be too late to get you those signed forms?” I found myself saying before I could stop myself. I wouldn’t really go. No, I would get the approval, just in case.
“Fine by me, Jack. I’ll email it over. Have a merry Christmas.”
“You too, Cedric.” I hung up and quickly googled Willow Harbor Church.
Sure enough, right on the main page was a picture of the worship team with the wordsSpecial Christmas Worship Concertemblazoned at the bottom.Featuring Jules Carpenter with a solo by Hannah Phillipswas in small printbelow that.
I zeroed in on the photo of Hannah. She stood next to a guy with a guitar, looking up, a radiant smile on her face, one hand stretched to the sky as she held a microphone to her lips with the other.
A hollow ache formed in my chest where my heart was, and I was filled with such a deep regret that it physically hurt. Maybe Chloe was right. Maybe I should have fought for her. Hannahwasspecial, and I’d just let her go.
But even if I had told her how I felt about her, there was no guarantee she would accept me and my past. The things I’d done. A deep unworthiness filled me, threatening to pull me under.
Hannah Phillips was too good for me. We’d snuffed out before we’d even had a chance and I thought that was for the best. Yet a part of me wanted to see her for one last time. To hear what I was sure would be an angelic voice. To say goodbye for good and wish her well with Luke.
Dr. Morgan was right; I did need closure.
My phone rang. It was Chloe. I smiled.
“Hey,” I answered.
“I just got Cedric’s email. Should I have Meagan book the jet to Willow Harbor?”
Busted.
I sighed. “I’m just going for closure.”
