I'd driven back up the mountain and came home to an empty cabin. Her coffee cup still sat on the counter, one of my flannel shirts was draped over the chair, the couch cushions were dented where she'd spent last night.
The workshop was worse. The desk I'd been building for her sat half-finished. Her notes were still scattered across the workspace. The cradle in the corner mocked me with its promise of a future I'd been stupid enough to imagine.
Kevin showed up without knocking, which meant he knew I'd tell him to leave if he asked permission.
"Don't," I said when he opened his mouth.
"Wasn't going to say anything."
"Good."
He sat at my workbench anyway, picked up a piece of sandpaper, started working on the desk I'd never finish. We worked in silence for twenty minutes before he spoke.
"You want to talk about it?"
"No."
"You going to go after her?"
"Why would I do that? She made her choice."
Kevin set down the sandpaper. "She's scared."
"I know she's scared. Doesn't change anything." I threw a chisel harder than necessary into my toolbox. "She left. Everyone always leaves."
"Not everyone."
"Enough people." I turned to face him. "You know what the worst part is? I knew it was coming. Knew she'd realize I wasn't enough."
"That's not what happened."
"Isn't it? She went back to the job that's been making her miserable. Back to the boss who steals her research. Back to everything that was killing her. And she chose that over staying here. Over me." I grabbed another piece of wood, started cutting with more force than the task required. "That tells me everything I need to know about what I'm worth."
"It tells you she's wounded. Same as you."
"Then maybe we're both too damaged for this to work."
Kevin was quiet for a long time. "You remember when I met Tonya?"
"Don't."
"She ran too. It took her weeks to come back. Weeks I spent convinced I'd ruined everything, that I was too much for her, that she'd realized I wasn't what she wanted."
"This is different."
"How?"
"Because Kim left because she thinks she's a burden. Because she's convinced herself that loving me means protecting me from her problems. Because she doesn't believe she's worth staying for." I set down the saw before I hurt myself. "And I let her go because part of me thinks she's right."
"You're an idiot."
"Thanks."
"I'm serious. You let her walk away because you're protecting yourself. Because it's easier to confirm what you already believe than to fight for something different." Kevin stood. "You spent thirty-one years convinced you were too much for anyone. You found each other for three days and started healing. Then you both got scared and ran back to your wounds."
"She's the one who left."
"And you're the one who didn't fight to make her stay. You gave her an out because part of you expected her to take it."He headed for the door. "So you both get to be right about yourselves. Congratulations. Hope it keeps you warm at night."
