“Go on.”
I take a sip of my beer for liquid courage and sigh. My eyes fall to the label of the bottle I’m peeling.
“Elaine was pregnant when she died. We were going to ask you to be the godfather. In fact, we were going to announce it to you that day. But I was missing the thrill. You know more than anyone I didn’t want to retire. Being a SEAL was my dream and before changing our lives forever, I asked Elaine to jump one last time. One last thrill. We discussed it that morning, and I promised her I would stop chasing the adrenaline I craved. I promised to be more careful as I was becoming a father. So because she was an expert jumper and she knew how much it meant to me, she came and jumped too, even if she was pregnant. Except…” The last words stay stuck in my throat. I killed my fiancée is what I want to say, but as I dare to look at Mark and see his calm demeanor, I know I don’t need to. He already knows.
“Except, there was an accident, and she died on impact. You didn’t kill her, Oliver.” I hear him say the words, but I can’t believe them. Because I know she wouldn’t have jumped that day if I hadn’t insisted. I know she wouldn’t have died if I didn’t need to feel the adrenaline run through my veins. She wouldn’t have been killed if I’d checked her parachute. She wouldn’t have died if I’d been more careful.
“Spencer, listen to me. It was an accident. The place got sued and closed. Elaine knew the risk she was taking, and you didn’t push her off the plane or make her jump.” I finally meet his eyes but close mine right away for him not to see the myriad of emotions going through my mind.
“You knew?”
“Yes, I knew. But I wasn’t going to blow your life up even more. I took care of protecting your lie, of the investigation. That’s what friends do, Oliver. That’s what I promised I would do and what I would do again.” I shake my head, swallowing the pain I feel.
“I can’t believe you knew,” I repeat. I was alone for the last five years, carrying my sorrow, and I now realize my friend knew all along but waited for me to fess up and tell him. “You could have reached out.”
“I did. I gave you five years Le Pew. It was time to come home and start the healing process. And because you like Tessa, I believe it’s going to be much easier.” He smirks, but I’m not ready to joke. I’m not ready to look at Tessa as something other than a forbidden fruit.
I feel lighter having Mark knowing the truth, but I still feel guilty for Elaine dying.
I still need to tell her parents the truth, and I still need to find a way to put all the pieces of my heart together before handing it to someone else.
“Is the beer helping lose that stick?” Mark says, eyeing me while I take another sip.
I nod. “It’s helping alright… But if I end up drunk, don’t let me do things I’ll regret tomorrow.”
Mark laughs, “If you end up drunk after one beer, you can be sure I’ll let you embarrass yourself and do a lot of things you’ll regret tomorrow.”
Chapter Fifteen
TESSA
Grieving is as unpredictable as a pinball machine. You bounce back and forth from shock to depression, until you can integrate the loss to your daily life. Like a breakup but to the power of forever.
Like the ex who stomped on your heart and made some papier-mâché dump sculpture of your love story, you never forget the loved one who died.
They are part of who you are and who you’ll become and because other people need your love and attention, you come to accept your loss.
At least, that’s what Doctor Saman, my new therapist is explaining.
The process of grief.
The bullshit I should have gotten over by now and didn’t.
The game of pinball I can’t stop playing because I’m stuck in a grief without resolution, in a past where King is everywhere and a hopeless future, I desperately try to make him a part of.
I suffer from complicated grief and if I believe her, it can be treated.
The powerful pain, the overall feeling of numbness, the bitterness, the loss of purpose, the inability to enjoy life I’ve felt since he died can be cured.
I was going to refuse therapy but a harsh discussion with Quinn and Ashton made me change my mind.
After I refused to go to the hospital, my friends asked some of their friends for someone to take me in the next day.
I wasn’t in a state to speak up last night and I couldn’t refuse this morning.
I was skeptical that anything would change but I promised them I’ll give it a try. Because the dark thoughts taking over and believing King could be alive, scared me.
If I didn’t want to live, I didn’t want to die either.
I just wanted to be with him, forever.
“So Tessa,” Doctor Saman reminds me of her presence. “Tell me how King died.” I’m agonizing over the story I have to tell. The story I know nothing about except what Trevor, Bennett and Quinn shared. I look around at the cozy office. I felt safe as soon as I came in.
The teal sofa, the white flower on the wooden table, the comforting navy color of the wall and the white rug reminded me of a home I never had. The home I hoped I grew up in while everything was cold and blended.
Even when Dr. Saman explained what we were going to do—the weeks of therapy, how it will help me to understand my grief and manage my emotions, to think about the future and mend the relationships with my entourage—the sound of
