“Can I tell you something, Captain?”
He doesn’t reply, of course, but I go ahead anyway.
“I wish I could tell Miles that I’m doing it, that I’m quitting to go back to school. He was the first person I told, and he, in his very bossy way, helped me realize that this thing was worth pursuing. And I want to thank him for that. And tell him I’m doing the thing. I mean, it was him and a baby sea turtle, but let’s maybe keep that part between us?”
Captain pounces on the feather cat toy, trapping it in his claws. I release it so he can paw at it and lick the toy. He rubs his face all over it, and it’s so cute, I could scream.
“I want to see his face when I tell him that I’m going. I think he’d be proud of me for going after what I want. He might say ‘I told you so,’ but I also think he’d hug and kiss me and insist we celebrate.”
Captain flips over, leaving the toy on the floor in front of me. I start to wiggle it again, enticing him to play. Captain ignores the temptation of the toy to rub himself against my leg. I pick him up and hold him close to me while he purrs, his little body vibrating against me.
“But the ball is in his court. I can’t make him want me or want to give me what I want. And I don’t want that. I want him to choose me the same way I’m choosing myself. Moments like this are meant to be shared, though, and I’m sad I can’t share them with him. I’m glad I’m sharing it with you, though.”
Captain’s little body vibrates in my arms, and I let it soothe my aching heart.
“You’re proud of me, aren’t you?”
I hold the gray cat up a bit so we’re making eye contact. He gives me a slow blink and I take that as a yes.
25
MILES
Abby has been gone a week, Gray leaves tomorrow, and for once in my life, I can name the way I feel about it. Anxious.
I’m not sure I’m ready to be alone with my thoughts again. I didn’t realize how lonely Cabo has been until I was spending my free time with Abby or Gray. Destiny is always great company, but that’s once a day for sixty to ninety minutes. I’ve missed having people I love around me. I’ve missed the conversation and having someone to laugh with, people to share meals with.
This is the part of moving constantly I thought I didn’t care about. When I traveled for hockey, I was always with people. I had my hockey family, and even though I was nursing a heartbreak, I had people in my life to support me. Once I lost that, my world shrank. And I thought I was doing okay with it, but the way my palms get sweaty every time I think about Gray leaving tomorrow tells me otherwise.
Tonight is our last dinner. We meet at a more casual dining joint for beers and burgers. We order and get our first round of drinks, and it only takes one beer for him to bring up a touchy subject.
“So why did you ask about Dad last week? When we had that dinner with Abby. You asked about him and then freaked out. What happened?”
I pick at the label of the beer bottle. Usually I’m not the one to be so vulnerable with Gray. I’m the emotional anchor, but after the way he got me through the panic attack, I’m feeling a little more willing to open up, less like I need to be strong for us. It turns out he can take a turn sometimes.
“Abby had asked me a question earlier that day. About regret. If I’d get to the end of my life or if Dad got to the end of his, would I regret having missed out on a relationship with him?”
“Would you?” Gray asks.
“I don’t know. That’s why it got me thinking. I also thought if you could live with what he did then maybe it meant I was capable of it too.”
“Listen, I’m not going to therapize you because I know you’re going to find someone when you get out of here, but what is it about what he did that you can’t move past even now, fifteen years later?”
“I think the better question is whycanyou get past it? He broke up our family, Gray. He made you and Mom the laughingstock of our small town. One of the three people I trusted most in the world broke that trust. I thought Mom and Dad were in love and that was a lie. It made me think love was a lie.”
“But you still fell in love with Abby.”
Because even when I didn’t believe in love, I believed in Abby. She was easy to believe in. When nothing else made sense, Abby always did.
“And I was never able to tell her. I felt it. I felt it in my bones and I could never say the words to her. That man’s choices fucked me up.”
“No wonder she doesn’t want to be with you.”
“Wow. Fuck you, Gray.”
Our food arrives, and we dress our burgers with ketchup, stuffing our faces immediately.
I know he has more to say by the way he’s staring at me with a smug smile. Either he’s going to explain himself or I’m going to have to ask him to, like a conversational game of chicken. I hold out as long as I can.
