“How could you?” I ask. “How could you love me when I hurt you so much?”
“You didn’t hurt me,” she tells me and then grabs my face. “Your father did what he needed to do for you, and I accepted that. Your father would have walked through the eye of the storm for you.” The tears slip off her chin. “He’s not the same man he was.” She shocks me. “He pretends he is, but a piece of him is missing. He still sets the table with an extra plate. He still buys you presents on your birthday and Christmas.”
“What?” I ask, shocked.
“Losing Gabriel was hard for him. He mourned the little boy who he created, but losing you, losing you …” Her bottom lip quivered. “He lost the boy he loved from when you were first placed in his arms. He lost the boy he taught things to, he lost the boy he raised, he lost the man who he helped you become. You can say that he isn’t your father, but we both know that isn’t true. Just as you can’t tell me I’m not your mother. I may not have birthed you, and I may not have held you the first day, but I was the one who used to read you bedtime stories. I was the one who drove you to your practices and held your hand when you were scared. I was the one who waited with bated breath at your rodeos. I was the one who punished you when you snuck out all those times, and I was the one who looked away most times.” She winks at me. “To me, that means more to me than what blood runs through you. I ran away once.” She swallows. “So I know how you feel. I thought the whole world was against me. I pretended I was okay every single day for eight years. I even convinced myself I was okay until I stepped back into town, and I knew I wasn’t okay. You had to run away, and I get it. If anyone can understand it, it’s me.”
“I was never going to come back,” I say, and she smiles.
“Well, whatever brought you back, there had to be a reason,” she tells me. “It’s what you do going forward that will speak volumes.”
“I’m staying,” I say, and she crosses her hands over her chest. “For good.”
“You are going to make a lot of people very happy.” She hugs me now around my waist and places her head on my chest. “You need to talk to him.”
“I know,” I say. “I do. It’s just …”
“You’ll know when it’s time. I love you, Ethan, the boy you were, the man you were, and the man you are now,” she tells me. “Now why don’t we get back there before they send out a search party for us.” As we walk back to the barbecue, I know I can scratch another name off my list.
Chapter Nineteen
Emily
I sit in the middle of the couch, correcting the essays from my students last week. I know I should get up and go to the barbecue, but after walking away from him, I drove back home and cried.
Seeing him with his shirt off jilted me a bit, but after seeing the angry scar on his side, I couldn’t keep from asking if he was okay. If I hadn’t been sitting in the chair when he told me he died, I would have fallen to the floor. My heart dropped out of my chest, and my stomach ached. He told me his story or a piece of it, and all I wanted to do was crawl into his lap and hug him. But instead, I agreed to get to know him, get to know the man who he is now. When I got home, I was shocked to find a box sitting by my door with all the things I’d kept at Drew’s.
When I picked it up, I found a letter placed on the top. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it was nothing that was in the letter.
Here is your stuff. If you can get me mine by tomorrow it would be appreciated. Just leave it on the porch.
He didn’t even sign his name. I looked at the stuff in the box, and I had to laugh. He was returning my coffee mug. I shake my head at the couple of shirts I had there, and the one picture he kept in his house. I took everything out and threw it in the garbage, then I walked around the house with the same box and filled it up or at least that was the plan. In the end, the only thing I had of his was a tie. We were together for over two years, and all he had at my house was a tie. I walked into the bathroom and thought maybe I’d find his aftershave or at least his razor, but no. I had more shit that belonged to Brett in my house than I did of Drew. I dropped the empty box by the door and decided to stay in. Jenna called to check on me and after convincing her I was okay, I changed into my yoga pants, grabbed the stack of papers I needed to grade, and then got lost in the stories of my students.
As I start another paper, I hear a soft knock on the door. I thought for sure it would be Jenna, but when I open it, I stand here looking at him. He has a baby blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, making the blue of his eyes stand out even more with his shirt color. I look at the ink on his arms, and I want to touch it so bad. He wears khaki pants with brown boots. “I
