The finality of it fills me with dread. I thought I’d lose her when she left, not now. Not because I’m not worthy.
I hit the gas and move. I can hardly make out the road before me, lost in my head as I am.
I thought holding my guilt over Mom’s death and working as a recompense would make me accepted. Just to get a rejection because of that.
A mirthless laugh cracks from my throat. But then I sober quickly.
My family told me. Dad stood by me when she was lowered into the ground. He placed his hand on my shoulder, squeezed. Aunt Felicia held me and promised she was a shoulder to cry on. My brothers and my cousin stayed close to me, even as kids, they cared. They saw I was broken and tried to help.
I expected to be disowned. Not doubly loved and supported.
I broke down three nights after, crying before Dad. He hugged me and told me he didn’t blame me.
“These things happen,” he said as if it was nothing.
As if I didn’t rip the family apart.
Guilt dug its hold into my heart and never left.
I drive to a stop outside my home. Getting out of the car, I look up. The stars are out tonight, dotting the sky like a million diamonds. Mom used to say that.
I sigh and lean against the door, staring up. What would she want?
I can imagine Mom scolding, asking why I’m so grumpy.
Why are you punishing yourself, son?
I deserve it.
Do you?
My jaw trembles. I clench my teeth.
I’m tired. The weariness sits deep in my bones. I want a break from all of it—the pain, the shame, the guilt.
“I want something different.”
I suck in a breath, watching the sky. Mom would want it too. She’d forgive me. I know this.
I want to forgive myself too.
I have to.
Can’t go on this way.
I’ll forgive myself. For the sake of my family and for Maddie’s sake.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Maddie
I tuck myself under the sheets and try to sleep. It’s useless.
First, it’s too early. Can’t remember the last time I slept at nine p.m., if ever. Secondly, I can’t keep Chance out of my head.
It took all my willpower to keep from holding him tonight, telling him it’ll all be fine, that I was here for him. I wrapped my arms around myself instead and kept them there.
Though I could feel his hurt, it was not my place to heal. It’s his. He has to come to terms with what happened, admit to himself that taking the blame for something that happened fifteen years ago does him no good.
