And for the first time since this heart started beating inside me, it doesn’t feel borrowed.
Doesn’t feel temporary.
It feels like mine.
Like home.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
HAYDEN
Two years ago today,I sat in a church filled with strangers.
I held my children close while people whispered about God’s plan. I nodded at condolences from men who didn’t know Cora’s laugh. Women who’d never seen her barefoot in the kitchen, flour on her cheek.
Last year, I did the same thing.
Forced Presley and Jemmy into stiff clothes. Made them sit in a pew and remember what they’d lost.
I told myself it was respect.
It wasn’t.
It was punishment.
For me.
For not insisting she get checked out sooner.
For not seeing what was happening inside her body.
For believing we had time.
I don’t blame myself the way I used to.
What happened to Cora was out of my control. I know that now. I’ve said it enough times it finally feels true.
Do I still wish I’d done something different?
Of course.
But every time guilt creeps in, I roll over in bed and see the spot that used to be empty.
It’s not empty anymore.
Rowan sleeps there. Tangled in our sheets. Hair wild. One arm flung across my chest like she’s afraid I might disappear.
If it weren’t for Cora, Rowan wouldn’t be here.
I loved my wife.
I miss her.
But I can’t imagine my life without Rowan.
This past year has been the happiest in recent memory.
Not just because I’m back in a job I love at the hospital. But because of the life Rowan’s brought back to my existence. Every day is a new adventure. I’ve learned to appreciate the little things.
