Page 109 of All The Ways to Miss You

“No.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“I want to.”

That’s the root of everything that’s gone wrong. It has been since the day Cait left. I’ve wanted to tell her, but Linden talked me out of it for her sake. Her parents stopped me for their hate, and eventually I stopped myself because it was too late. What I’m starting to understand is that one night to say good-bye won’t extinguish my love for her. I’m not going to magically stop giving a shit. If I were, it would have already happened.

“So tell her. Be done with it. Whatever happens, happens. At least you’ll know she knows. You deserve some peace too. It’s not only about her.” Shelby pauses. “It’s not like you haven’t suffered too. I never understood all your crazy quirks until you explained, but now I do. How many times have you jumped out of your skin because of a loud noise? You thought they were gunshots. How many times have we gone to a restaurant and you insisted on having your back against the wall? How many times have you scanned the hands of the people around you? You were looking for guns. In your dreams, how many times have you seen your best friend die in your arms? You need closure, Evan. And after you get it, maybe you can be whatever the hell normal is for you.”

I listen to Shelby in silence. I’ve done all those things, even searched enclosed rooms for ways to escape. I’ve spent years replaying the events in my mind, wondering what I could have done differently to change the outcome.

If only I had stayed home and made love to Cait instead of working. If only I had left early to find her in the park. If only I had arrived at the square sooner. If only I could have found the gunman and stopped him myself. In every one of these alternate scenarios, Steph and all the others would still be alive, and Cait and I would have a different life right now. We’d be together and married.

When I hang up with Shelby, that’s when I decide to take a different path, like I should have long ago. The one I’ve wanted to take all along, where I’m not always sacrificing myself for Cait’s needs. It’s time to place everything in front of her so she can make her own decisions without me choosing for her. If I do, there will be no more secrets to keep, and no more excuses for me to hide behind.

I take some time to pull myself together, and then I do something insane.

I drive to her parents’ house.

fifty-two

“I was wondering when I’d see you again,” Cait’s father says when he opens the front door to their home. He doesn’t send me away like I expected. Instead, he retreats down the hall, leaving the door wide open.

I step inside and glance around, taken aback at being granted access, and shocked by seeing the inside of their home for the first time. The interior is beautiful, stately, meticulous, and like a museum, and the exact environment I imagined Cait growing up in. She was probably taught how to appreciate the Picasso hanging in the hallway before she was taught to play with a toy.

“You want a drink?” her dad calls.

“Water, thanks.” I’ve been hydrating for days, but I’m still hurting from my binge. In the kitchen, Judge London takes a glass and places it on the kitchen island in front of a bar stool. Across from me, he’s organizing a pile of washed vegetables.

“From my garden. This will be it for the season.”

I nod. I can’t believe I’m standing here and we’re talking about carrots and not a restraining order. It’s not exactly the hostile situation I imagined.

“So let’s get to it. Sit.” He tugs a drawer open and selects a cutting knife. It gleams in the afternoon sunshine streaming in from the back yard. I pause at the sight of my nemesis with a weapon. He removes a cutting board and chops potatoes.

I clear my throat. “I guess you know she’s returned to Chicago.”

“I do.”

“And I want to tell her about her and me.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“Because what happened between us needs to be discussed first.”

“Discuss.” He tosses the chopped bits into a bowl.

“I loved her, and you took her away.”

“And now?”

“I still love her.” I freeze, waiting for his reaction.

He places the knife down, gripping the counter’s edge before leaning closer. “You think I didn’t see you outside my house every time you sat in a rental car watching us? I could have thrown you in jail ten times over, instead of the few measly months you spent in a cell.”

I sit up straighter, knowing I didn’t come here unseen. “So, why didn’t you?”

I flinch when he simply leaves the kitchen without a word. I glance around at the empty room, unsure if I should follow or remain seated. Just as I’m about to stand, he returns with a black leather-bound book in his grasp. He tosses it on the counter where it lands in front of me.