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“A therapist told me that my body has memories that my brain can’t remember, or doesn’t want to remember. It’s as if my brain is trying to protect me in a selective amnesia sort of way. There’s plenty I can remember too, but it’s not something I want to do. Certain kinds of touch are sometimes linked to old memories or buried memories.” Her voice quieted near the end.

I didn’t know what to say. What could you say? “I’m sorry your life has been hell.” Where could I even start? I knew one thing I unquestionably wanted to do, and that was to thoroughly apologize. Shame wasn’t a heavy enough word for the emotion I had for the way I’d spoken to her at the cemetery.

“Sawyer, I want to apologize for how I treated you earlier. I was an asshole. It’s been almost a decade since I’ve lost my temper like that. It’s not an excuse, but I’d like to tell you why. I was up late last night with a tough situation, and it wasn’t until lunch time that I realized it was Abel’s birthday. I’ve never forgotten his birthday. He always made such a big deal about mine, and I was angry at myself for forgetting. Not to mention, I received another phone call about another issue, and when I saw you, I was confused and took it out on you. It had nothing to do with you. Thursday was the anniversary of Abel’s death. It won’t happen again. I know right now that sounds like a line, but I can guarantee it’ll never happen again.”

I had eight years' worth of putting money, time, and effort into making choices that helped people, but she knew none of that. She had seen me on two of my worst days and after everything she’d revealed, I hated that.

Her eyes softened.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” I spoke firmly. “Even though you don’t know me well, I want you to know that I’d never lay a hand on you in anger. Ever.” Her eyes searched my face, and she nodded as if she saw the truth.

“I can’t believe I just told you all this,” she whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks pinkening. “It’s been a while since I’ve had such a severe C-PTSD episode. Thinking of Abel and finding out he was gone triggered those old buried memories, and it felt suffocating.”

“And then I yelled at you,” I stated as I rubbed my hand down my face. I felt like dirt. Lower than dirt. Manure. Crap. Shit.

“When I was out here on Thursday, I kept having these moments as if something was familiar. I had a hard time placing it. Then, when I was driving down Main Street in Kennedy, I remembered that this was where I met Abel. I was so excited that he may still live here that when I saw he had passed, I was blindsided. Abel was a remarkable person,” she finished softly.

“He was the best little brother.” I blinked away the moisture in my eyes.

“Can you tell me how he passed?” she asked hesitantly as her eyes soberly searched my face.

“Car wreck.” I still hated saying the words.

“Oh. Soren.”

She tentatively placed her hand on my forearm closest to her. The gentle touch pressed through my sleeve. Her compassion was appreciated, but it was somewhere I was not comfortable camping out. I had put in the hard work with George, but I could never shake the regret that Abel would be here if it wasn’t for me.

“He would have been twenty-seven today.”

“I saw the dates on the headstone, but I didn’t make the connection. I only knew Abel for a short period, but his friendship forever impacted my life. He was the only person I considered a childhood friend.”

Her words hit me squarely in the chest. She’d only known him for a few months, years ago. As someone who was still best friends with two of my childhood friends, I couldn’t imagine. My friends saved my life after Abel died. Jonah was the deep thinker in our trio, but I usually took time to think things over before I made a decision. I determined at that moment I wanted to get to know this woman better.

I didn’t have a lot of experience with women outside the bedroom, because I’d avoided them for years. This was going to be a journey, but knowing she had known Abel made me want to get to know her even more than I already did. The pull to know her was unlike anything I had ever experienced. As if there was no way my life could go forward without staying in contact with her somehow. I didn’t know exactly what I wanted other than getting to know her more, but it was one of those “no regrets” moments, and I wasn’t going to let it pass me by.

“I want to get to know you.” Her eyes widened, and I laughed awkwardly at my blunt statement. Heat crept up my neck.

“Uh okay.” She paused, having the appearance that she didn’t know what to say, and as always, my awkwardness was batting at a thousand. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from Lane.

Chapter

Eleven

Sawyer

“What do you enjoy doing in your free time?” Soren asked.

I paused. My mind raced through the last hour that led to me sitting on Soren’s porch swing. He was Abel’s brother, and he wanted to get to know me. His blunt words made me think of Talia. A smile tugged at my lips.

“Hmmm, I work a lot, but I love baking. I dropped off a chocolate chip cookie dough cheesecake for Talia before I came over here. I run almost every day, which is a good thing since I enjoy baking so much. I enjoy watching baseball and football. I don’t understand all the rules, but sometimes I simply turn on a game for background noise. I listen to games like some people listen to coffee shop music. It makes me feel calm. I tried basketball, but the sound of their shoes on the floor . . .” I cringed. A small smile tipped his mouth. “It didn’t have the same effect.” I surprised myself with how much I had shared. There was something about him that was comfortable. It was a sentiment I was unfamiliar with experiencing this quickly with people, and sometimes I never felt it at all, regardless of how long I knew someone.

His hazel eyes up close were a work of art with speckles of blue, green, and copper. They made me think of a stained glass art project I did in high school. All the pieces of broken glass were blues and greens overlapped in a box, creating something beautiful even before they were assembled. Broken stained glass always made me think of my life. There were innumerable pieces, but I wasn’t sure how to piece them together. Who was I kidding? The pieces of my life weren’t big enough to be shards of glass. My life resembled debris that floated in the air after a bomb exploded on my favorite TV show about a group of Texas rangers. My life was like shattered dust. I didn’t have anything to offer this man. I could barely manage to maintain the one friendship I had. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to try. Relationships of any kind were challenging for me. I smiled, I made people feel comfortable, all the while, my mind raced, trying to catch up because it was so preoccupied logging every potential threat around me. I was self-aware enough to know I was different. My mind was in a constant state of overworking to fit in. YouTube was bookmarked on my laptop to watch how-to videos, which was something I did regularly. I had been diagnosed by a psychologist with attachment disorders along with C-PTSD. I understood the gist of it all because Talia had answered endless questions. Sometimes I felt as though I was broken beyond repair because in the end, how can you build anything from dust?

“Sawyer?”

I jolted.