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“I know,” I say with annoyance, as if I’m a teenager again. He says it anytime I do anything remotely fun.

“Do you?” His eyebrows pinch together.

I don’t bother answering. “See you at the party tomorrow.”

After saying a quick goodbye to the Thermos Crew, I toss the bag on the passenger side of my truck and head over to Collins’s place.

It doesn’t take me long to change the batteries in the smoke alarms and swap out the one in the family room.

I carry the ladder down the upper hallway to the primary bedroom. I left this room until last on purpose. It feels too personal to enter, but I remind myself that Caleb would want me to make sure that Collins is safest when she sleeps, so I enter anyway.

I’ve never been in here before, so I have no idea what it was like before his death, but if I had to guess, it probably looked exactly like this. Or damn close.

Looking around, you’d think Caleb was at the fire station and coming home after his shift. His cologne and watches, accompanied by loose change, rest on the dresser. In the corner is a wooden valet stand that still has Caleb’s dress uniform laid over it. It’s an invasion of privacy, I know, but I can’t stop myself from cracking open the closet, not surprised that it’s filled with Caleb’s clothes.

When I turn back around, I notice a book on the nightstand and check it out. As soon as I see the title, I know it must have been his. He was always into anything having to do with military history. A bookmark rests around two-thirds of the way, and for some reason, that—out of everything—is what makes my heart sink.

There’s something so devastating about him not being able to finish that book.

The uncomfortable tickle in the back of my throat starts. The one I get whenever I think about someone I lost—my mom, my dad, and then my best friend.

I swallow past the pain and do what I always do whenever I’m confronted with my grief—push it away and think of something else. In this case, my thoughts go to Collins.

There’s no way I can let her continue to live in the tomb she’s created for herself.

I look up the number for the massage clinic where Collins works and book myself an appointment with her for after the holidays. I’m going to drag her out of the past kicking and screaming if I have to.

It’s what Caleb would have wanted.

FOUR

Collins

Present in hand, I walk into Baylor’s birthday party at the rec center.

It feels as if every head in the place swivels in my direction. There was a time when I would have basked under the attention, smiling and waving to everyone, happy to chat for endless hours with all my friends, but that part of me died with Caleb. I feel the gaping hole where that part of me used to be, but I also see it in their downturned eyes and sullen cheeks. They don’t see the old Collins either.

I slap on what I hope appears to be a genuine smile and walk into the room.

Growing up as an army brat, constantly on the move, I got used to walking into a room full of strangers and smacking on a fake smile. But these people aren’t strangers. Though maybe they feel a little more that way since I erected a wall between us shortly after Caleb died.

No one talks about the effort it takes to make others feel at ease. To reassure them you’re eating, you’re healthy, and while maybe not thriving, you’re still getting up every day. It takes effort to make it look like you’re okay. You’d think I’d be practiced at pretending I have it all together, but the truth is it takes so much effort that it’s exhausting. Things that used to come naturally to me no longer do, and I don’t know why.

I mean, I know why. My husband died before I was even thirty years old.

But why can’t I seem to get back to who I was? Which is absurd, because I’m not her anymore. I’ll never be that woman again. Maybe there’s a new version of myself just waiting to be discovered. Although I have no idea how to unearth her. It’s been eighteen months, and there are days it feels like the accident happened yesterday.

All I know is that this constant performance of okayness is wearing thin. It’s fraying at the edges and in danger of snapping any day. But people expect me to have moved on, so the performance continues, as painful as it is to act my way through social settings.

“Collins?”

The voice pulls me from my thoughts, and it’s clear by the way it’s said in the form of a question that this probably isn’t the first time they’ve tried to get my attention.

I blink and turn to my right. “Hey, Elliott. I can’t believe Baylor’s getting so old. Thanks for having me.”

I don’t know Elliott super well, but I like him. He’s always been decent to me. All the Mercers have been since I showed up on Caleb’s arm in Echo Lake.

“Thanks for coming. I was so happy when Ansel told me that you agreed to swing by.”