Page 90 of One Last Thing Before You Go

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

KNOX

“Are you ready?” Lottie whispers in my ear, running her fingers through my hair.

I swallow hard—twice. Clear my throat—once. “I don’t know.”

Sitting on the floor of my loft, we’re surrounded by the remaining boxes of Walter’s things. The ones I haven’t been able to go through alone. The ones we were supposed to get through together last week.

“You don’t have to do this. We can just throw these out. Or put them in storage. You don’t have to read every single word written by your father. It⁠—”

“There’s no way I would ever throw these out. And I’m definitely not going to read them all. But maybe I do need to read some. Because coming here has left me with more questions than answers.” My chest tightens, my breathing stutters. This is… much harder than I ever thought it would be.

“When I first got here… I didn’t really know him. Or rather, I only knew this one side of him. And then, of course, our last exchange being what it was… And then he died. And he left me the store and this stupid loft with no explanation but—” I stop, and she waits patiently as I gather myself so I can keep talking. “I just… Since being here, I feel like I’ve gotten to know him better through other people. And I’m both happy and disappointed, you know? Happy because I can accept he wasn’t the awful man I thought he was. Disappointed because I didn’t get to see most of it.”

“I get that.” She takes my left hand in both of hers and squeezes it.

“I’ve come a long way since first arriving to Ceres Cove. And I’m scared of what I’m gonna find here, you know? Like… What if it turns out he really is a dick? Or what if he regretted his entire life and how he left things with us? I don’t know what to do. Don’t know which would be worse.”

“You’re allowed to not read them, Knox.” Her voice is soft, enticing.

“Tempting. But I have to. For me. At least some of it.”

I take a deep breath, steel myself, and pick up a random journal from the box. And because Fate is a dick, it’s the one with the year of my birth foiled into the cover.

I burst out laughing. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

She peeks over, comprehension dawning on her. “Whoa, okay. Maybe let’s start with something easier? Save the year of your birth and… maybe the year you fought for last?” “Or for never?” But I know deep down there’s nothing that will keep me from the temptation of reading the words I’m so scared of reading. I need to know what he was thinking.

I set the journal aside for a later time and, with a shaking hand, pull one from the bottom of the box this time. One from seventeen years ago. From when I first met him.

“Shit. None of this is going to be easy, is it?”

“No. But I’m here with you. We can do this. Together.”

I cup her face, choking back a sob. And... it’s fucking embarrassing. I feel like crying. Because I’ve lost my father. Because I never really knew him—not the way I wanted to. And because I’ve fallen in love with the most amazing woman. One who wants to walk by my side while I figure this out.

I love you, I’m dying to tell her. To ask her to stay with me forever. But I don’t want the first time we have this discussion to be when the moment isn’t about anything but us.

So instead, I lean over and kiss her. Just once. Just enough to get my fill, some strength, before I tackle the first journal. I flip through the pages, anxiously searching for entries around the time of my mother’s accident. Finally, in neat, near-perfect cursive handwriting, my name pops out at me from a page.

September 16th

She called today. After ten years of not knowing where she’d gone or why she’d left so suddenly, Melissa called. After breaking my heart and leaving me to die, to rot in academia, she called me.

From a damned hospital bed, no less.

The tear-filled way in which her voice broke when she’d first greeted me… My heart dropped when she told me she had been in a terrible car crash.

“Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you. I’ll take care of you,” I’d said. It’s all I’d ever wanted. I didn’t care that she’d abandoned me all those years before. I loved her. I would always love her.

“I don’t need you, Walter.” Still, the same words over and over again from the day she left. “But our son does.”

Our son.

She had told me there would be no son. She had told me she was going to get rid of it. She had told me she didn’t want to be the student who had gotten knocked up by her professor during some torrid affair.

Her words, not mine.