Page 71 of Chasing Clouds

Finally having that conversation with my father went about as well as I expected. He demanded things of me, and I directly told him no. Although we talked ad nauseam about my marriage to Reid, I was adamant in my decision regarding him. By the end, I left us in his hands. I simply reminded him that he’d already lost one daughter, and whether or not he lost the other one too was up to him. He told me he’d be in touch, but I haven’t heard from him since.

This morning I needed to get out of my house, so I grabbed a coffee and wandered the streets, walked through a few squares and down to River Street. Clare and I used to love coming here as little girls. With no one watching and no one caring, it was exciting to be part of a normal crowd filled with tourists. We could eat all the candy we wanted and laugh at the street performers, and no one was there to take our picture and splash it across page six of the local papers.

Today, it’s quiet. People pass me on their way to work, food delivery trucks are unloading at the many restaurants, and boats pass by heading to and from the mouth of the river. It’s beautiful out, but early April in Georgia always is. I look for a potential commercial space, but nothing I find feels right, so I head home.

Home.

Does this even feel like home anymore? It used to, but that was before, before I felt like I had a choice, and now I do. Nothing is keeping me here, so do I really want to stay? If I don’t, where do I want to go? Definitely not back to New York—I’m too much of a Southern girl at heart—so maybe up to Charleston, or even back down to Tampa.

Tampa . . . my heart frowns. I can’t think of Tampa and not think of Reid. There’s been no communication from him today, and I realize I might have to accept the possibility that he’s in the process of letting me go. You can’t make someone want to be with you, no matter how you feel about them.

The rest of the day I spend in my workshop. It’s cathartic in that I can focus on me and organize my thoughts, but at the same time I can lose myself in the work and just zone out.

From the back pocket of my shorts, my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number but answer it anyway.

“Hello.” I tuck the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I move to the sink to quickly rinse off my hands.

“Hey, Camille,” a male’s voice drags out. “It’s Jack.”

It takes me a second to place the name, and when I do, adrenaline shoots straight down my spine. His voice is dark and foreboding.

“Hey, Jack. Is everything okay?” I dry my hands and press the phone harder against my ear in anticipation of what he’s going to say. The only reason he would be calling me is if something bad happened.

“Reid is in the hospital.” He blurts it out so matter-of-factly, and I grip the counter to keep from falling over.

“What? Why?” My heart rate picks up while I try to control my breathing. So many things could have happened to him and life can change so fast—I know this better than anyone. Although I have to know what happened to him, the fear of the outcome almost has me wanting to hang up. If I don’t know, it hasn’t happened.

“He got hit by a car.”

My heart stops and I process his words.

“Hit by a car?”

“Yep.”

A thousand thoughts start running through my mind, and of course I’m immediately thinking something terrible. For the past five years, it’s been my default to automatically assume the worst, and tears prick my eyes.

“Where?” I lean over the counter and place my forehead on my arm.

“In the parking lot of our main training facility.”

“How? When?”

“It was raining pretty hard and the driver didn’t see him in time. Slid right into him, earlier today.”

“Oh my God.” I squeeze my eyes shut and ask the question I’m most fearful to know the answer to. “Please tell me he’s going to be okay?”

Jack lets out a long sigh. “He’ll be fine, but he’s banged up pretty bad and I think you should come stay with him.”

I jerk up and start walking toward the house. “Absolutely. Where is he?” I would go anywhere and do anything for him.

“St. Joseph’s Hospital.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Great. This is my number, call me when you get here.”

“I will. Thank you, Jack.”