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Of course, since his heart felt a bit like stone, maybe that was fitting.
“Just stop here,” he said when they got to the gates.
He walked through and took the well-worn path to Jill’s grave and just stood, his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I feel like it should have been me.” He said it out loud for the first time. “I don’t know why it wasn’t. And I don’t know what to do about it.”
There wasn’t an answer. Of course there wasn’t.
Though, he supposed that was an answer all its own. There was nothing he could do to bring her back. And he was still here. He was still here and he was wasting it, and suddenly he hated himself for it.
The stone was never going to talk back. It was never going to change. And this wasn’t the place he needed to be.
No, he wasn’t good enough for Evie. He was a broken mess.
But he wanted to try. He needed to try.
Because he had survived. And for the first time since then, he really wanted to live.
* * *
A buzzing on her intercom moved her from her slothful position on the couch. She got up and walked over to the front door and hit the button. “Yes?”
“It’s me.”
“What?”
“Caleb.”
“I know but…why are you here?”
“Can you buzz me in?”
“Are you going to say horrible things to me again? Because if so, I think I’ll pass.” Her heart was pounding hard and she felt dizzy. She’d never expected to hear his voice again, and there it was. No mistaking it.
Caleb. And she still loved him. Damn his eyes.
“I’m not going to say anything horrible. At least, I don’t think it’s horrible. I guess…I guess the final verdict on that is up to you.”
She buzzed him in and stepped away from the door, going back to the couch, her hands folded in her lap while she waited for his knock at the door.
When it came, she almost changed her mind. She almost didn’t answer.
“Evie.”
It was his voice again, and she couldn’t not go to him. Even if she should ignore him. Even if she should throw live lobsters on him and hope they pinched dangly bits.
She got up and walked to the door, her hands shaking. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.
She flung it open and put a hand on her hip. “What do you want?” she asked, trying to play it cool. And suddenly very aware that the sweatpants, ratty hair and vague odor of cheesepuffs probably negated the cool facade.
“You,” he said.
The word hung there, and she was sure she must have misheard it. But she didn’t see how she could because it was so simple. Because it could hardly be anything else.
“What?”
“I want you, Evie. I was…I was being a dick.”
“Well…yeah, but please define what you mean bywant me.Do you want to have more sex with me? Because I enjoyed the sex, Caleb, but it can’t just be that. Not anymore.”
