The lingering ache of the day is still present as we walk through the café doors and head for the back. The moment I sink into the cushioned chair, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee and nostalgia hits me.
Before every season, this had been our tradition. Jack and I would meet the Hendersons here for a caffeinated pick-me-up. Sitting here in the exact same spot, as three instead of four, makes me miss my best friend even more.
Mrs. Henderson reaches across the table and takes my hands in hers. “It’s wonderful to see you, honey.”
Her smile reaches her eyes, and I take in the creases forming at the outer corners. Aside from the few streaks of silver woven through her hair. She looks exactly the same.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “For turning you both away every time you came to visit me at the hospital.”
“It’s alright, son,” Mr. Henderson says, offering a sense of peace. “You were hurting. You went through a lot.”
“So were you,” I tell him. “I just… I couldn’t face you. Not after what Elliot did. He was my brother, and he took your son from you—for reasons I still don’t understand. I didn’t know what to say.”
Mrs. Henderson’s eyes shine. “We have never blamed you for what happened to Jack, Chase. We only wanted to be there for you. To help you through your grief and rehab. To make sure youknewwe didn’t hold you accountable for Elliot’s choices. But you never gave us the chance.” Her voice shakes, laced with pain, and the gravity of her words settle deep, releasing the air from my lungs. Hearing her say those words, I know she means them. “Maybe we should have tried harder.” She sighs. “I’m sorry, honey. I can’t help but think that if we had, you wouldn’t have carried the weight of the accident all this time.”
I take her hands in mine and shake my head. “Don’t apologize. You reached out plenty. I just wasn’t ready to be on the receiving end of your kindness. Or to accept that what happened to Jack wasn’t my fault. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’ve been trying to figure out what happened that night, but so far, it’s still a mystery.”
“Chase.” Mr. Henderson’s voice is firm.
I look up at him and meet his clear blue eyes—the same ones Jack had.
“When we found out Elliot was involved with what happened to Jack, it didn’t make sense,” he explains. “Elliot had been gone for years, and then suddenly, he attacked Jack out of nowhere. It didn’t add up.” He takes a deep breath. “After we heard about your father and Elliot passing, we knew digging into the truth could hurt you even more. You were already broken. So, we chose not to. We had already lost one son. We didn’t want to lose you, too.”
Every nerve in me lights up. The strength and compassion of these two people sitting across me is unlike anything I’ve seen. Their choice to not pursue answers in order to protect me undoes me. I close my eyes, shaking my head, not knowing how to reply.
Or how to process that kind of love.
“Finding outwhyElliot attacked Jack has never been a route we’ve wanted to explore,” Mrs. Henderson says. “Maybe to the parenting board that makes us bad parents, and we should be cancelled,” she jokes, her chuckle light. “I think that’s what my high school students are saying these days.”
Mr. Henderson snorts quietly. For a moment, there’s a flicker of the joy that used to fill his eyes.
“If you need to find out what happened,” she says, “we’ll support you. If that’s what you need to do to put this behind you, we’re with you. But do it for you. We’ve made our peace. We just want to be here to support you, if you’ll have us.”
“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it.
“I know your family is still grieving too, but if I ever see those brothers of yours who abandoned you in your time of need, I’m gonna kick their asses,” she says, even though I know she wouldn’t hurt a fly.
“Language, honey,” Mr. Henderson scolds, taking her words from her, and I chuckle.
“I never should have pushed you both away.”
“No,” Mr. Henderson says gently. “You shouldn’t have. But we forgive you. And we really hope you’ve forgiven yourself, too.” He wraps his hand around mine. It’s an unbreakable promise to be there.
“Oh, and by the way,” Mrs. Hendersons says, almost teasing. “Your friend Erin? Hold on to her. She’s a keeper.”
“She called you?” I ask, wiping my face.
“Coach Avery,” she says. “But we were told this was her idea. She cares about you, Chase. Don’t let her get away.”
“I won’t,” I promise. “I really like her.”
“You deserve to be happy, son. You don’t have to let the past keep you from living your life. Jack wouldn’t want that for you,” Mr. Henderson says as if Jack told him so himself. “And neither do we.”
When we stand to leave, I glance at the empty mugs on the table, and for a moment, it’s like Jack is still here—his laughter, his humor, the way we’d bicker over who got the last pie. His energy fills the room and my grief levels out, lightening to a degree it hasn’t gotten to in months. It’s as if the rock pressing down on my windpipe has finally shifted, and I can breathe.
I walk the Hendersons to their car, the quiet of the night wrapping around us. Mrs. Henderson pulls me into her arms, and I let myself linger there for a moment longer than I expect. Her embrace is a reminder that I’m not alone.
“Take care of yourself, honey,” she whispers against my ear. “No more disappearing. Check in with us, okay?” Her words settle in a loving way.
