Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Theo
With blinders on, life felt like it was on the right track. Take them off, and the truth comes into focus.
It’s not a straight path forward. There are twists, detours, and choices I never saw coming. And somewhere beyond all of that is where life actually begins.
I know what I want now.
Marley. The woman who’s changed everything in a matter of months. Who, despite all my flaws, still looks at me like I’m worth something. We struck a match and lit a fire neither of us expected. Sparks like that don’t last on their own, they need tending, care, commitment, or they burn out.
Showing up for people has never been my strength. I’ve always found a way to ruin the good things, to let them slip through my hands. This time, I want to hold on. I want to keep this going. Not just for now, but for everything that comes next.
It’s time to make some choices that could shift the course of everything. I’ve run the numbers. I know what the board will think, what the team will say.
Some people will think I’ve lost my mind.
The conclusion I’ve come to is simple though: this is my life. One that I very badly need to start living.
From the moment I met Marley, I could sense how the only thing that’s left to adjust is our working relationship.
Which is going to absolutely suck, because she’s the best assistant I’ve ever had.
If it means getting her in every other aspect of life, though, it’s single-handedly the best decision I could possibly make.
Beside me, my phone buzzes for what feels like the millionth time this morning.
Another article. Another distant acquaintance forwarding the latest outrage over Prescott Investment acquiring The Cobalt.
Angry villagers with pitchforks would be putting it lightly.
At a certain point, there’s only so much destruction a city can take.
People get tired of watching the places they love disappear, torn down and rebuilt until they don’t recognize home anymore.
Add a historic theater that half the town has some connection to, and suddenly, everyone’s got something to say.
Their anger doesn’t bother me. I’ve spent most of my life pissed off at something or another.
I get it. I’m also strangely proud of the uproar, the pushback against the status quo.
Sometimes, all it takes is one voice that snowballs into another and then another to make all the difference.
Change never starts loud. It starts with someone deciding silence isn’t good enough.
There is one thing crystal clear. The Cobalt has to be saved.
For them.
For me.
For Marley.
Swiping the notification away, I fumble through wording an email to the board. Normally, it’s something I’d have my assistant do. However, considering my assistant is Marley, who can’t know about this quite yet, it has to stay under wraps for a while longer.
The message is short and clunky, but it gets the job done. By noon, an email and calendar invite for an emergency board meeting on Friday have gone out.
With that off my plate, I stand and stretch before heading for the door. When I open it, Marley’s at her desk, back to me, earbuds in, typing like she’s in the zone.
I walk up and gently tap her shoulder.
She startles, instantly swiveling to launch the nearest pen at me. One hand clutches her chest while the other swats my thigh. “You trying to give me a heart attack?”
I grin. “No, just trying to convince you to take a break.”
She doesn’t answer right away, but the look on her face and light in her eyes say everything.
She’s happy to see me.
It’s a reaction I’ve ever earned before, and I’d be lying if I didn’t feel a proud warmth radiate through my chest every time she looks at me like that.
I take her hand and help her up.
“What’s the occasion?” she asks as we ride down the elevator.
My collar suddenly feels tighter. “I want to talk to you about something.”
A tragedy I don’t like talking about, but it’s shaped every part of who I am, and she deserves to know.
This has her head whipping in my direction, her dark waves swaying with the motion. “Well, that doesn’t sound ominous at all. Should I be worried?”
“No, not at all. There’s just some things I want to tell you. About me, about my family. We can do it over lunch, at my family’s favorite deli.”
We end up at a tiny hole-in-the-wall deli halfway across town.
The kind of place that’s cash-only and always smells like garlic and warm bread.
There’s a line out the door, like usual, but Marley doesn’t complain.
She’s too busy taking it all in, every black-and-white photo covering the walls, signed and dated by celebrities and locals who made it big.
She tells me to order for her, of course not afraid to venture out, whereas I’ve ordered the same sandwich since I was eleven.
I’ve been going to this deli since I was shorter than the counter.
We visited so often that the owners knew us by name, and we exchanged small presents on Christmas.
It’s also the only place my youngest brother wanted to go for any momentous occasion—birthdays, preschool graduation, winning his T-ball games.
Tomorrow it will be twenty-four years since he passed.
I’ve tried to distract myself about the impending date, but there’s only so much distracting you can do when there’s a fist around your heart, squeezing tighter as the day grows closer. I don’t think I’ll ever stop being angry that the best days were numbered before I even knew to count them.
The owner is working the front counter, a frail older man barely half my height, with wire-rimmed glasses slipping down the crook of his nose.
“Theo!” he exclaims. “Great to see you, boy.”
He’s called my brothers and me ‘boy’ since we were, well, boys. Even after we shot up and towered over him, he never stopped.
I reach over the counter and shake his hand. “Good to see you too, Art.”
He glances at Marley beside me and breaks into a wide, crinkly-eyed grin. “And you’ve brought company this time.”
“I have.” I slide my fingers into hers, and she squeezes back without missing a beat.
She steps forward with a warm smile, still holding my hand as she offers her other to him.
I watch them exchange a few easy words, struck by the quiet magic of her.
She’s sunshine. Not loud or showy, but constant.
Steady. The kind that seeps in slowly and makes everything feel better without even trying.
Since I’ve had her in my life, it’s like I lost half the weight I’d been carrying around on my shoulders for years.
Because of her, I feel lighter. Freer. Like I can finally let myself want more than just getting through the day.
I let Art know we’d like two of my usual. He passes the order slip to someone in the kitchen, then waves me off when he sees me taking out my wallet.
“It’s on the house today.” He taps his temple with one finger. “I may be old, but I remember the date.”
Beside me, I can feel Marley watching and trying to make sense of what he’s referring to.
When Art turns his back, I quietly slip a hundred-dollar bill into the tip jar. His business seems to be doing perfectly fine, but I’d never take advantage of someone’s kindness.
Within minutes, a tattooed guy behind the counter shouts my name, signaling our order’s ready. I grab the brown paper bag by its folded edges, and we head to the park next door, claiming a bench beneath an old oak tree.
Lunch hour’s long over by now, but I don’t care. Today, of all days, I need to slow down. To remember that life isn’t supposed to be one endless race where the days bleed into each other.
I hand her one of the sandwiches, still warm and wrapped in white paper. She looks up at me, studying my face.
I know that look. She’s still trying to piece together what Art said, why I’m acting strange, and taking her on a spontaneous, longer-than-normal lunch date.
Inhaling, I plunge in. “This was my brother Carson’s favorite place.”
It feels strange on my tongue, like the word’s been tucked away for too long. I can’t remember the last time I even said his name out loud.
“I’ve never told you this before, but he passed away when he was four. Tomorrow is the anniversary of his passing.”
The words come out flatter than I expect. Like I’ve said them a thousand times in my head but never out loud.
“I’m so sorry, Theo,” she whispers. Her voice sounds heavy, like she’s trying to hold back tears. She leans her shoulder into mine. “What happened?”
She doesn’t ask to pry. She asks like she wants to understand.
“He drowned.”
I don’t look at her. I can’t.
“It happened fast. One second, he was right next to me, playing in shallow water. The next, he was gone. Had slipped off a sandbar and went straight under. I had turned my back to check on the other kids. It was so quiet. And I tried to get to him in time, but I just … I didn’t make it in time. It was too late.”
I take a breath. It doesn’t help.
“My parents, they said they weren’t upset with me. That it could have happened when any of us were watching him. But then, my dad ended up suddenly having an aneurysm six months later, and I can’t help but think it’s because of the accident. Because of what I did.”
She places her sandwich aside and practically crawls into my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck. “It was not your fault. Do you hear me? It was an accident. All of it was an accident.”
I shrug in her grip.
That’s what my mother said too. But there was always this look, like maybe, deep down, she believed it could’ve been prevented. And I couldn’t agree more.
How do you go on living a normal life after two people you loved more than anything die? And it was entirely your fault?
She tightens her arms around my neck, like she’s trying to hold my pieces together.
“You were a kid. You didn’t cause any of it.” Her voice is quiet, but there’s no hesitation in it. “You loved him. You tried to protect him. That’s what matters.”
She pulls back enough to look at me. Whatever she sees, she knows I don’t believe her. She knows I still think it’s entirely my fault.
Her eyes search mine for a long moment, like she’s willing me to let it go, even if it’s only a little. “If it takes hearing it a hundred more times,” she says, voice stronger now, “I’ll say it every damn one of them: it wasn’t your fault, Theo. It wasn’t your fault.”
I stare at her, trying to absorb the words, but guilt is stubborn. It digs its heels in.
“You say that,” I murmur, “but I still see him. Every year, on this day. Four years old. Face messy from s’mores.
Sandy blonde hair hanging in his eyes. And I see my dad too.
The way he never really came back from it.
” I drag a hand down my face. “How do you go on living like none of it is your fault?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she presses her forehead to mine, her hands warm against my jaw.
“It still hurts because it mattered. That doesn’t make it your fault. And I know I can’t fix it, but I can sit with you in it. I’m here, okay?”
I don’t say anything. I just hold her. Let her warmth settle against me, let the quiet stretch without needing to fill it.
For once, I don’t try to outrun the feeling or shove it back down.
I let her stay. Let myself stay.
And somehow, in the middle of all that hurt, there’s a stillness I didn’t know I’d been needing.
It doesn’t change anything. But for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel like I have to fix it to keep going.