“Okay,” I breathe.
Chapter 29
Cody
The last ten days came and went like nothing.
Tomorrow, everything changes. Back to normal. Whatever that even is. I don’t hardly remember.
Karissa’s packed and ready. Every one of Emma’s things, blankets, bottles, clothes…they’re all folded into tubs and boxes taped shut. Tomorrow morning, we’ll load it all up and drive them both to their new home.
Karissa stands with me at the doorway, watching as I put my boots on. Emma’s in bed, has been for a while now; it’s late.
“Cody, I just want you to know how much I appreciate you. Your family. Everyone.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“No really,” she says as I stand now. “I don’t think you understand—”
“Karissa, stop. Please.” I try not to sound like I’m begging, but I am. I can’t handle the weight of this right now. Not in front of her, I can’t.
“Don’t do that right now,” I say, reaching for the doorknob. She doesn’t respond, just tucks her lips and watches me out.
I get in my truck. Karissa turns the porch light off and I turn my key in the ignition. I can’t find it in me to go home. My heart is so heavy it hurts.
So I drive up to my parents’ house instead. My headlights catch the porch swing, which is when I see the silhouette of them both slowly rocking. I kill the engine and sit in silence for a minute. Not because I feel weird interrupting their date night, but because I don’t know what I’m doing or what I even want to say.
I get out anyway.
My boots clomp up the steps; Mom speaks first.
“All packed?” I sink into the chair across from them. “You okay?” she adds.
“I don’t know.” I let out a deep breath but it doesn’t help anything.
“What’s going on?” Dad asks, tone steady, genuine.
“I don’t know what to do.” I run my hands through my hair. I can hardly breathe, focus, or think. It’s like I’m cracking from the inside out. I look back to them both. “Tell me what to do.”
Dad’s arm tightens slightly around my mom and she grasps my dad’s leg a little harder. “I’m guessing this is about Karissa?” Mom asks gently.
I nod, swallowing hard again, which still doesn’t help. “I know it’s only forty-five minutes away. But it feels like more.”
They both stay quiet. I lean forward, elbows pressing into my knees, eyes fixed on the worn boards of the porch.
“I told her I wasn’t enough for her, but now here I am, so lost with the idea of not seeing them as much.”
“Not enough? Why would you think something like that?” Dad asks.
I freeze. There it is again, that same knot I’ve carried for seven years. Tight and unforgiving.
The sigh I let out is heavier than I meant, and my voice is just above a whisper.
“I never told you what really happened with Bree.”
Mom shifts in her seat. “Didn’t tell us what?”
I look back up at both of them, staring, worry plastered across their faces.
