Chapter Thirty
When Kyle gathered their duffel bags and carried them downstairs that sunny Saturday morning in June, Star stayed close on his heels.
She still followed him around all the time, like she was afraid he might disappear again, even though he’d been back in the house for almost six months, ever since the day Casey had shown up at the gym, talking about clocking his movements for two and a half years and brandishing that tattoo.
She had started coffee, but she wasn’t in the kitchen.
He headed outside with the bags, saw the door to Wyatt’s shop was open, and he knew she was wandering around in there.
She still did that once in a while, even though Wyatt had been gone since March.
He was living in Boston now, with Julia.
He’d abandoned his plan to get his own place pretty quickly, saying they both felt ready for the next step.
His actual words had been: What can I say? She can’t get enough of me.
But that goodbye had been a real bitch.
Watching Wyatt and Casey both try to keep it together the morning he left, especially when they gave each other that final hug.
All Kyle could think about was how grateful he was to Wyatt.
Casey had told Kyle about their talk the morning she was supposed to leave for Utica, the things Wyatt helped her realize.
Maybe she would have figured them out herself eventually, but maybe not.
When Kyle thanked Wyatt for that, his response had been very Wyatt: I was just sick and tired of all the drama.
He and Casey still didn’t know how to get through the day without worrying about one another.
They regularly tracked each other with Find My iPhone.
In any other family that might be weird, but not this one.
Kyle loaded the bags into the camper, a twenty-foot lightweight trailer his F-250 could easily tow.
He’d picked it up a couple months ago—an impulse buy.
The owner brought it into the garage, looking to fix a few things before he listed it for sale.
After Kyle worked on it, saw it was in good shape, he made the guy a cash offer the same day.
By the time he drove it home that evening, however, he was nervous as hell about presenting it to Casey.
She’d come out of the house, confusion written all over her face, while he scrambled to explain.
If you don’t like it, I can sell it for more than I paid for it.
And we don’t have to spend every night in there, I just thought it would be handy in remote locations… He’d stopped and shaken his head at himself, convinced he’d made a mistake, that he was pushing too hard.
When she turned to him with a big smile and said I love it , the relief had been a rush. Not so much because she liked the trailer, but because it meant she was serious about going away with him.
And today they were leaving.
They were taking Star, Charlie’s box, and their wish list, and making their way across the country.
Ultimate destinations: the Pacific Ocean and Alaska.
While he was double-checking the wiring for the trailer lights, Casey stepped out of the shop and locked it up.
He watched her go back in the house.
She was wearing jeans and his red plaid flannel over a white tank top, hair pulled up except for a few strays.
She looked young, and beautiful, and for just a second Kyle felt lost in time.
That happened to him every now and then since moving back into their home, into their life together.
It was fleeting, and he didn’t really mind it.
Casey said the same thing happened to her sometimes.
Living together again was so effortless it was hard to believe he’d ever been gone.
They’d noticed differences in each other, but they were small.
When he made her scrambled eggs one morning and she doused them in Red Hot, he asked what the hell she was doing.
I like hot sauce on my eggs now , she’d said with a shrug.
When he drove her over an hour away to a sushi place he’d heard about in Watertown, she’d shaken her head.
Sushi? I don’t even know you anymore.
The difficult days were when she was down and distant.
He was getting better at not hovering.
He understood now there were times she just needed space, and he gave it to her.
Initially his old instinct to fix things had kicked in.
When he sensed she was having a hard day he stuck to her like glue, kept up a constant stream of chatter, tried to find the words or the touch or the thing that would open her up again.
She’d sat him down and told him about her ritual, explained that it would take time to break a mental habit she’d lived with for so long, and the best thing he could do was just be there while she rode it out.
But he couldn’t help the fear that still crept in when she withdrew from him, even if it was briefly, couldn’t help going down that dark road of possibilities—
What if she couldn’t pull out of it this time and asked him to leave? What if the pain got so bad she saw only one way out again? She’d promised him those things wouldn’t happen, which was really all she could do.
He would force himself to go about his routine, and before long the light would return to her eyes, and she’d come back to him.
So, it wasn’t always easy, but they were figuring it out.
He went back inside the house, where she was pouring coffee into travel mugs.
They were eager to get going, having said all their goodbyes the day before.
It had been an emotional day, the last day of classes for Casey.
She’d been able to keep her position at the middle school.
Ten days after submitting her resignation last December she told them she changed her mind, and they were happy to hear it.
She’d also stepped right back into her role as team manager—thank God.
Ben Landy had never spoken truer words when he said Kyle didn’t know what the hell he was doing without her.
After school they’d met with the team to say goodbye, at least for a while.
The Sandstoners had finished the season with eleven wins and four losses.
Kyle asked Will several times exactly what he’d said the night of the dance.
I told you, Coach.
I said we took a hundred percent of the shots that day.
Kyle would always respond the same way, Are you sure that’s what you said? Will would smile and shake his head.
Yeah, I’m sure.
Kyle wasn’t so sure—he was convinced he’d heard Charlie’s words come out of Will’s mouth that night—but he would leave it at that.
The team’s third place trophy from the Holiday Cup sat in a glass cabinet outside the middle school gym. Below it a small plaque read: DEDICATED TO CHARLIE HIGGINS MCCRAY.
He made his way through the house, checking windows and the front door, making sure everything was locked up.
Dad would be keeping an eye on things while they were gone.
Eight months after his stroke he was done with the walker and PT.
He was driving again, and he’d gone back to working at the food bank and training newbies at the firehouse.
His recovery was about as complete as they came.
On his way back to the kitchen Kyle stopped at the built-in hutch and studied the contents.
Casey came to stand beside him, and he put his arm around her, felt her sink into him while their eyes roamed over the family photos and keepsakes, all those moments frozen in time, especially for the people who were gone—Mr.
and Mrs.
H, and Charlie.
As excited as Kyle was to get on the road, it was bittersweet to be leaving home.
When quiet tears rolled down Casey’s face, he knew she was feeling the same thing.
Even more so, because she had never left home.
After a while she swiped at her cheeks, opened the glass doors, and took Charlie’s box in her arms.
Kyle closed the hutch doors, followed her into the kitchen, where he picked up the to-go coffees, and they headed outside.
They were halfway to the truck when she stopped walking. “I’m sorry,”
she said. “I have to go back. I don’t know—”
“You left it on the table.”
He pulled her cell phone from his back pocket.
She offered a sheepish smile and took the phone. “Thanks.”
When they got to the truck she climbed in the front seat while he held the back door open so Star could jump up.
After he swung the door shut he noticed the Foleys watching from their porch, rocking in their chairs, mugs in hand.
He waved to them, and Mrs.
Foley smiled and nodded in return. When Mr. Foley raised his hand high and gave Kyle a thumbs-up, it brought a tear to his eye.
He settled himself behind the wheel.
Casey had placed Charlie’s box between them on the bench seat, and her hand rested on top.
She was turned toward her window, looking out at the shop, maybe thinking about Wyatt, maybe Charlie, probably both.
He couldn’t help feeling a prickle of doubt. Was he rushing this?
He placed his hand on top of hers on Charlie’s box, and in that moment he felt Charlie’s presence, felt it all around them and between them.
He felt it so strongly he almost looked for him.
But he didn’t.
He closed his eyes and didn’t move or say a word, just sat there holding Casey’s hand, wanting to hang on to that feeling as long as he could.
Eventually it started to fade, like Charlie had wanted to see them off, offer some encouragement, and now he was receding into the background just a bit.
But he was still there with them, and he would be as they traveled the unknown road that lay ahead.
He would always be there.
Casey turned to him. Her tears had dried up.
“Okay?”
Kyle asked.
“Okay.”
She smiled, and he knew it was for real when it lit up her eyes. “I’m ready.”