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She leans forward and kisses me, soft and almost chaste, her hand cupped against my jaw.
“You’re wrong, you know.”
“You’ll have to be more specific,” I say. “I’m wrong about a lot of things.”
“That you think you don’t know how to love. You showed me what love is.”
With that, she slips out of the truck, walking up the path to her apartment.
She doesn’t look back.
CHAPTER9
Cora
THREE MONTHS LATER
I’m on my way into my Sunday shift at Rivergreen, a stack of new board games and tin of cookies in the passenger seat of my car when my phone rings. My chest tightens when I glance at the dash holder and see my brother’s face.
I jab my finger at the answer call button. “Sam! What’s wrong?”
Sam never calls me before my volunteer shift—he’s like clockwork and always calls at the same time in the afternoon on my drive home.
“Nothing,” he says. “I’m fine.”
Relief washes over me. But it doesn’t last. It’s still strange to hear from him like this. “Seriously? Are you hurt? In trouble?”
“I’m good, Cora, calm down! I just wanted to catch you before you went in.”
I roll my eyes, but the relief feels more genuine now. “Fine. What’s up?”
Sam lets out a breath. “You got a minute?”
“Of course.” The retirement home is only a couple blocks from here, and I still have plenty of time. Even if I didn’t, I’d be late for Sam. I’d fly down to see him if that’s what he needed. Sam’s always been my biggest supporter; he’d do the same for me.
There’s a pause on the line. Then my brother says, “I uh… I had a visitor here yesterday.”
I raise my eyebrows. “In Nicaragua?”
“Yeah. An old friend.”
Suddenly, the world seems too quiet. A rush of November wind outside whirls orange leaves across the front of my car. “Tristan,” I whisper.
A beat passes. “Yeah.”
For a moment, my mouth goes dry. He knows. I didn’t tell Sam Tristan was here. Or that we were… together. I should have, I know. But those few magical days this summer hold a special, almost sacred place in my heart. I don’t really want to let anyone in on them. Especially not Sam, who’d have all kinds of feelings on the matter.
“How was he?” I ask, cautiously.
“He looked happy. He said he met someone.”
A fissure spreads across my heart. Of course he did. How could he not? He’s perfect. It hurts, but my heart beats through the pain, too.Told you you could love again.
“He also apologized.” Sam’s voice cracks slightly on that word.
“What for?” I ask, hesitantly.For sleeping with your sister?
“For leaving, all those years ago. For bailing on me. And for… what he did with you. Back then.”
