“I was just about to call you,” Brian said as soon as he answered. “But you beat me to it. I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas.”
Dallas couldn’t answer. He was too choked up.
“Dallas? You okay? What’s going on?”
“My dad...” He only got that far before his emotions sealed off his throat.
“What about your dad?” he asked. “That bastard had better not have done anything else!”
Dallas squeezed his eyes closed as he fought to be able to speak. “He just showed up, out of the blue,” he managed to say. “I...I should’ve done something, but I didn’t. I just yelled for him to leave.”
“Done something?” Brian echoed. “Done what?”
Dallas swallowed hard. “I don’t know. Something for my mom and Jenny—”
“And gone to prison yourself?” Brian snapped. “That’s bullshit. Who would that help? Certainly not them. They’re gone, Dallas. You have to let them go.”
“I...can’t,” he said simply. “I see Jenny...all the time. I miss her. I wish... I wish it had been me he’d shot.”
“That’s crazy.”
The last spate of psychologists Aiyana had taken him to had harped about vanquishing the guilt he carried, which was why he’d refused to go back. He couldn’t let himself off the hook that easily. He was afraid he’d be no better than Robert if he did. “She should...still be here.”
Brian’s response was stern and immediate. “That’s true. But it’s not your fault she isn’t.”
“It is,” he shouted into the phone. “If she hadn’t been trying to protect me, she might’ve escaped.” There. He’d said what he’d been holding back since it all happened. Those words had been torn from him, but the release was instantaneous. He blamed himself as much as his father for Jenny’s death—for good reason.
“You don’t know that, Dallas. And even if it’s true, it wasn’t a willful act on your part. You were six years old! She did what she did because she loved you. Don’t waste her gift by making yourself miserable, especially on her account. Do you think she’d want that?”
Of course she wouldn’t want that, but...
“I’ve watched you over the years,” Brian went on. “You hold back, deny yourself the love other people want to give you. And for what? Is it helping Jenny? Or your mother? No. Quit punishing yourself for surviving when they didn’t. Leave it in the past, and live large and happy because that’s the way they’d want you to live. Do it for them, if not for yourself.”
Dallas was hunched over, staring at the ground as he listened to Brian. He’d recovered enough from all the physical exertion that he was beginning to feel the cold, was starting to shiver. “It was all so unfair to her,” he muttered.
“You’re telling me she died for you, right? Isn’t that what you’re saying? That it was a willing sacrifice on her part?”
Fresh tears rolled down Dallas’s cheeks, and the lump in his throat grew so big that he could scarcely squeak out a one-word response. “Yes.”
“Then don’t let it be for nothing. Let her go. Let the past go with her. And quit punishing yourself.”
Dallas thought of Emery and how much he already missed her. He hadn’t chosen climbing over her, as he’d pretended. He’d turned her love away because he couldn’t allow himself to be that happy without feeling guilt.
But as he sat back in the dirt and stared up at the clear blue sky on a beautiful Christmas Day, he knew Brian was right. Although it might be something he’d have to remind himself of over and over—and would probably always be a struggle for him—he had to say a final goodbye to Jenny.
It had been a long day. Emery and her mother and grandmother had exchanged only small gifts, but Emery was happy that her mother had managed to smile here and there, and her grandmother had been able to reminisce about Christmases past, something no one had expected. Earlier memories seemed to be easier for Adele to recall than more recent ones, so she talked about the Christmases she’d known as a child, which Emery was glad to learn about. Adele had grown up in such an interesting time. She’d been born on a small farm, helped to raise her younger siblings when her mother died after being bucked off a horse, and married young. Over the span of her life, she’d seen the invention of the telephone, the television, the personal computer and the internet. Emery doubted there’d ever be a generation who experienced such rapid and radical change in the way people dealt with each other and the world.
Maybe this Christmas hadn’t been the best they’d ever experienced, but they were together. That was what mattered. They were together, they loved and supported each other, and Emery no longer had to worry about the lawsuit with Ethan and the station. She was grateful for all of that—which was why she refused to focus on what she didn’t have.
She did, however, unblock Dallas and send him a quick message:
Merry Christmas. I hope you had a great day. You are such an amazing person. You deserve the best.
She waited to see if she’d get a response. She was breaking her own rule—already—which was pretty pathetic. But she told herself she’d allow this one more exchange. It was Christmas, after all. And hearing from him was what she wanted more than anything.
She saw the three little dots that indicated he was either reading what she’d sent or writing back. But she never got a response.
She couldn’t help feeling a little misty eyed when she put her phone on its charger but ordered herself to quit obsessing over something that wasn’t meant to be. What happened to being strong like her mother? And what about all those things she was so grateful for?
She was being a baby, she told herself. But she couldn’t stop the tears that rolled onto her pillow.
A ding indicated someone had sent her a text.
She slid over to grab her phone and had to blink several
