“Thanks,” Hallie says in a voice that already sounds far away.
She glances at me and says, “Goodbye, Greyson.”
I stare up into her eyes. “Goodbye, Hallie.”
Another voice inside my head screams, “Noooo.” But I shut it down. That voice isn’t the voice of reason. Hallie can’trely on me. I’m not the man she needs regardless of how we both feel about one another.
She walks to the door and I almost call her name, but I hold the tip of my tongue between my teeth to give her what’s best for her.
Mrs. Kinkaid takes a seat in one of my living room chairs.
After a few minutes of silence during which I stare in the direction where Hallie walked out of my house and life, she says, “I like her.”
“Yeah. Me too.” I sigh, long and deep. “A lot.”
She watches me and I shift myself around on the couch, wincing when the movement pulls on my leg.
“Did you need to grab your pot holders?” I ask.
“They’re at home,” she says. “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s going on between you and Hallie?”
I sigh again. And then I tell her everything, needing to bleed the wound—to get her perspective. Secretly hoping she will either agree with me so I can stop second-guessing myself or correct me if I’m making the biggest mistake of my life.
I spend the next few hours filling Mrs. Kinkaid in on my relationship with Hallie, starting with the night I met her in Munich, spending extra time telling her about how Zach joked with Hallie when they met. We cry fresh tears through our laughter and she thanks me for giving her another piece of him back to cherish.
Then I share everything from the day Hallie walked into the station here in Waterford to the day she recognized me—dinner at her house with Mia. I close my eyes, picturing Mia, squeezing them to keep the sadness and another wave of tears at bay.
“I wanted to be the man who helped raise her,” I confess.
Mrs. Kinkaid’s face softens. She doesn’t say a word.
The memories flood me as I recount baseball practicesand games, Hallie’s and my middle of the night meetings and Dustin catching us.
The ache for Hallie intensifies when I get to the parts where we snuck around together, the four days we shared when Mia was away, breakfasts at Mo’s, late nights on this couch, holding her. It’s almost too much for me. I clench my teeth, forcing myself to finish my recounting.
Mrs. Kinkaid’s face is gentle—her eyes filled with empathy.
I practically growl when I tell her about Danny and how he left them for no good reason. Then I brag about Hallie—how strong she is, how determined, and yet so very feminine and kind. I don’t even try to keep the tears from coming now. They aren’t many, but my eyes tug and burn and a few slip down my cheek.
I end with the fire.
“She was there—with me—and I witnessed what nearly losing me did to her. If you could have seen her face—the way she looked at me when I was being rolled into the ambulance. I scared her. And it could have been so much worse.”
Mrs. Kinkaid’s lips thin. She gives one short nod.
“And that’s when I realized how selfish I have been,” I explain. “Mia needs stability. They both deserve a man they can count on, especially after what they’ve already lived through.”
Mrs. Kinkaid listens to everything. She never corrects me or interjects her thoughts. She just listens.
When I finish talking, she’s still quiet.
We sit like that, staring at one another, her expression soft and compassionate.
Finally, she says, “That’s something. Imagine her ending up here in town.”
“I know,” I say. “I thought it was fate. And I don’t even believe in fate.”
She smiles. “Greyson, I could give you platitudes about how you’re going to be fine and you don’t need to worry. But the fact is, good people—people we love dearly—die.”
