“Of course.” I pause before throwing a Hail Mary. “I can always look at flights and meet you out there if you change your mind.”
“No, Keri. I know this sounds awful and selfish, but this is something I need to do by myself.”
“I understand.” I wipe my cheeks with my knuckles, mustering the bravery I’ll need to let him go. “Will you check in? So I won’t worry so much?”
“Yes, I will. But you should know there’s no cell service on or near my property. It’s out in the boonies. That’s why we had a landline.”
“I remember you saying that.”
“Try to stay busy when you don’t hear from me. It doesn’t mean I don’t care. It just means I don’t have service or I’m working through some things. I’ll do the best I can.”
“Okay.” I’m weeping openly now, and I know he can hear my whimpers through my hitched breath.
“Oh, Keri. Please don’t cry.” The low timbre of his soft voice reminds me of the first night we spent together in his van.Woodsmoke and fairy lights. Strong hands gripping me in the night. I want to go back in time, when the only thing on our minds was discovering more of each other.
“I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”
“I hope you know that I love you. I really do.”
I shake my head, knowing he can’t see me. I don’t believe him anymore. But this moment is not about me. It’s about Adam finding closure and letting go of the final piece of his misery. His delayed reaction to trauma and the loss of his wife and child. The changes in his life that weren’t his choice or under his control.
“Will you do something for me while you’re out there?” I sniffle.
“Of course.”
I suck in a deep breath, my voice barely a whisper. “Be kind to yourself.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Keri
“Tell us about him,” my friend April insists.
“Yeah. Give us all the deets,” Candace chimes in. She rests her chin in her hands and humorously wiggles her eyebrows.
We’re sitting around the kitchen table in Candace’s home in the Atlanta suburbs. I figured if Adam could take off, then so could I. Childish behavior for sure, but I didn’t know what else to do or who to turn to.
After Adam’s phone call, I left my office and went by the farmhouse to pick up some clothes for the week to keep at my empty apartment. When I entered, the still silence creeped me out. But what really got me was the lack of evidence that Adam ever lived there. His clothes and toiletries were gone. Even my favorite flannel shirt I stole from him, vanished. The shelves ofthe little bookcase in the corner, vacant. And then I saw Molly’s doggy dishes missing. The empty space near the back door caused a violent knot to twist in my stomach. I decided right then and there to get out of town and head to my besties in Atlanta.
“Well?” April says, staring right at me.
“I’m sorry, what was the question?” I notice my two friends glance at each other.
“You were about to tell us about Adam,” Candace reminds me.
“Oh, yes. Adam. He’s…”
Gorgeous, my brain responds.And broken. I don’t even know exactly where he is right now. Maybe near Little Rock? He’s a nature photographer now, after years of shooting celebrities. Two years on the road, still grieving his wife and daughter lost in a wildfire. Homeless, living in his van. He says he loves me. I’m not sure I believe him.
“He’s sweet,” is how I respond to my two friends who are eyeing me worriedly. I take a long sip of wine, feeling the crisp coldness slide down my hot throat.
“Sweet? After not hearing from you for months, that’s all we get? Sweet? Come on.”
“Okay, okay. He’s really…” I remember how he held me at Feather Falls. The flex of his arms when he surfed. His messy hair and those caramel-colored eyes.
“Sweet,” I repeat after a long pause. April and Candace exchange another worried glance. “What?” I ask.
“Sweet.” April snickers, her voice lilting in a higher pitch. “He’s reallysweet.”
