Finn grins over at me. “We were so close,” he says. “Seemed like a waste not to.”
Finn flashes his national parks pass, because of course he has one, and the park ranger waves us through. It’s early enough that the grounds are still quiet. We’re all alone as we walk toward the edge of the canyon. The sun peeks over the horizon, and the first rays of dawn cut across walls carved by the Colorado River. Reds and oranges glow all around us, and the canyon seems fathomless, stretching out in all directions.
It feels like the perfect place to make peace. To accept that the version of Dad I thought I might have doesn’t—and will never—exist. I pull the movie ticket from my wallet. The once slick paper has gone soft with age, and half is clouded light pink from when my blush compact broke apart in my purse in eighth grade.
“He was supposed to take me to a movie the day he left,” I explain to Finn. “I don’t know why I’ve even held on to it. But I’m done holding on to the dream of what kind of father I was supposed to have. I just feel like I’ve been holding on to this awful day for the last twenty years. I wanted to just scream after his truck until my lungs gave out, but I couldn’t. I had to keep it together for Mom and Liz, you know? Like if I just keep moving, keep working, keep achieving, then maybe I can outrun what happened.”
Finn doesn’t say anything, he just pulls me into a hug. I let myself lean into him for a few moments. Then I pull away, but I grab his hand. The ticket snaps once in the wind, slipping from my fingers. I let it go. It sails upward for a moment andhangs above us briefly before it’s whipped away into the canyon and out of sight.
I exhale, feeling lighter than I have since I was a kid.
And then, I don’t know what comes over me, but I let out a giant scream into the abyss. I pour out everything I’ve kept inside since the day my dad left, every secret pain that I’ve held on to, releasing it all in an act of catharsis that makes my throat raw. And I feel a power coming over me as Finn, at my side, lets out an equally wild scream. More of a howl. I can hear in it, in both our voices, the hurt of things that happened outside of our control. I know, without having to ask, that the loss of his own father is a big part of that hurt. Our shouting is so loud and so long that it startles a giant bird into flight. The bird swoops above us once, twice.
We stand silently as it continues on its way, heaving for breath, our hands entwined. As the bird flies off, I think,This is goodbye. Except what I feel is not the feeling of goodbye at all. The bird isn’t leaving, I realize—it’sflying. And what I feel is not sadness, not anymore. What I feel is hope.
After a moment, Finn gently tugs my hand, leading me toward a hiking path marked the Trail of Time.
“Emma, I wanted to tell you something.” His voice is serious, and my heart instantly begins to shield itself, bracing for some terrible truth that’s going to ruin everything, but I push down my defenses. I need to be better at trusting Finn. He’s not that teenage guy who left me standing with a corsage all those years ago. The Finn Hughes I know today is the guy who rubs my back and grounds me through an anxiety attack. The guy who supports me with his friendship even after I’ve shut him down romantically. The guy who saves me from falling offa kayak. Who encourages me to chase my dreams and believes in my talent. Who opens up to me about the darker moments of his past over candlelit dinners and tells me I look beautiful. He’s changed, and so have I. And when people show you who they are, you should believe them.
“I know you’re upset about my not telling you the whole story about Sybil.” He stops to lean against the informational placards that line the path. “On that voicemail yesterday, I was talking about something that happened that day—the day I stood you up for prom. And if it was up to me, I’d tell you all about it. But it’s Sybil’s story to share. I just can’t break her confidence. She’s trusted me to keep her secret all these years, and I can’t betray her. It’s important to me that when someone trusts me with something personal and true, I stick to my word and protect that.”
I take both of his hands in my own. “I understand. Thank you for telling me. I’m glad that Sybil had you when I wasn’t there for her.”
“I don’t think it’s that you weren’t there for her. I think sometimes we just need different people at different times in our life.” He pushes off the sign, and we keep walking.
I almost want to laugh. All this time I’ve been telling myself Finn isn’t trustworthy. A big part of that started on prom night, when he stood me up and didn’t explain why. And yet, what if that night was proof he is the most trustworthy person I know? I just didn’t have the full story. And I hadn’t asked.
“There’s one more thing.” Finn has stuffed his hands into his pockets, and he looks nervous. “I’ve been talking to my real estate agent, Christine—”
“Christine is yourreal estate agent?”
“Yeah, Christine Gilchrist. She’s a friend of my parents.”
“So you weren’t setting up a date?” I hope that the teasing tone of my voice masks my relief.
“I don’t think Christine would have me. She’s been happily married for four decades to my dad’s best friend. They were like a second set of parents to me after Dad died. Anyway, she’s working on the paperwork for my mom to sell the house. To me.”
I gasp. “Are you serious?”
Finn nods. “I’d been thinking about it ever since my mom said she wanted to move. It’s such a great house, and I’d been looking at coming back to Dallas anyway. Plus, with the sale of my company, I could afford to make her a good offer.”
“So the Dilbeck won’t get torn down?” I ask breathlessly.
“It will not get torn down.”
I squeal and throw my arms around him. “Oh my god, Finn. That’s such great news.” I release him reluctantly. “What made you finally decide to buy it?”
He shrugs. “You asked me to.” Like it was as simple as that. Like all I ever had to do was ask, and I could have everything I ever wanted.
ON OUR WAY BACKto the car, the shops are just opening, and I duck inside to grab a postcard. Maybe I’ll send it to my dad when I’m back in New York. Little things to reopen the lines of communication. I can’t control who my dad is, but I can control my own actions. And who knows. Maybe, if I give him a chance, I’ll see that my dad has changed too. Or, rather, that maybe I’velet myself grow blind to the good parts of him that were always there, unable to see past the one mistake he made that hurt me so badly. After all, he opened his home to me when I really needed it, even though I hadn’t reached out to him in years. He let us take his beloved Wagoneer, no questions asked.
Just like with Finn, I can forgive him for the past without letting it define our future.
Finn is waiting for me when I get back to the car. “I got something for you.” He places a white quartz figurine in my palm. It’s the shape of a bear, and I can’t stop the laugh that escapes from me.
“I’ll treasure it forever,” I say sarcastically.
Finn grins at me, then says in a softer voice, “The woman who sold it to me says it symbolizes protection and healing.” I curl my fingers around the carved stone and bring it to my heart.
