Chapter Thirty – Torin
I’m okay . . . I’ve calmed down.
I finish with a last drag of my cigarette, letting the burning smoke hit my lungs before flicking the butt into the dirt, stomping on it with my boot until it’s extinguished.
The heat from the sun clings to me as I shut the truck door.
“I’ll be back soon,” I whisper to the old girl.
She’s been with me through thick and thin. She deserves some respect.
The path winds ahead of me, pines rising on either side, tall and close. Their needles whisper with a gentle breeze. I need a little background noise to keep me anchored so I don’t melt inside my own head.
Fawn doesn’t get to see this side of me: fists clenched, angry words spilling out. She doesn’t deserve this. She deserves better than this thing I’m trying to wrestle out.
So, I come to the only place I can open up freely: the cemetery. It’s still bathed in late afternoon light, tombstones casting long, lonely shadows. Slowly, I make my way among them, reading names I don’t recognize, nodding at those I do. People who lived whole lives before mine even started.
The oak rises above me, and something in my chest begins to slow. The tree is enormous, its roots twisting as if holding everything together. Maybe this tree does. Hell, it even saved me once.
My father’s black marble headstone stands underneath the tree. Simple. Stout. Much like he was. Anything too flashy would have annoyed him.
The flowers that are on top have turned brittle, holding only the memory of color. I guess my mom hasn’t been up here for a while. I haven’t spoken to her in more than a year. I should. But knowing something and getting it done are two kinds of hard.
I kneel among the rocks and feel the soil give beneath a knee. The atmosphere changes.
I draw in a long breath, feeling it calm the parts of me that are shaking.
“Hey, Dad.” My voice breaks, and I rub my hand over my face. “Been a minute, I know . . .”
The wind moves among the oak leaves; it’s so gentle, like a caressing touch on my shoulder.
It makes it easier for me to continue talking.
“Uh . . . I hope you’re good.” A humorless laugh slips out.
“I’m good. Haven’t had any of those dark thoughts for ages.
” My eyes trace each letter of his name, cut deep into the stone.
“I met someone.” I pause, swallowing the burn rising in my throat. “Fawn. She’s . . . something.”
My breath trips over itself as my eyes close.
“I know you’re probably judging me . . .
sharing her with Dylan, but it feels right, y’know?
We both like and respect her.” I open my eyes, and I can feel them welling up.
“I’m scared, Dad. I’m so scared of losing someone again.
I lost you, my ex, fellow soldiers . . . ”
My fingers sink into the earth, and I can feel its chill against my skin.
My throat constricts with a memory I often refuse to revisit, but being here brings it flooding back whether I’m ready or not.
“I nearly lost myself,” I whisper, settling back onto my heels as I look up at the oak tree stretching up above me.
“I come out here to relax. This is the same spot where I nearly killed my—” The words feel like broken glass in my mouth.
The tree stands silent, ancient. It’s seen every version of me, even the worst one. I glance at a low branch that still wears the scar — bark torn, wood splintered.
“I thought this tree would be the last thing I ever saw, but it wasn’t .
. . I’m so lucky the branch snapped. Fuck, guess you and the tree weren’t gonna let me go out like that.
” I laugh, but it’s hollow, trembling around the edges.
“I’m grateful Dylan and Coach showed up in time.
I guess the universe wasn’t done with me yet.
” The leaves rustle overhead, like a sigh.
“I don’t talk about that day, but the coach bought it up.
Fuck, he really did save me, but he’ll never replace you.
” I sniff. “I . . . made a stupid comment at the rink, and Dylan brought me back to the present. I know . . . Dylan, right? Who would have guessed it, even with his chaotic brain? I guess, uh . . . I needed to speak to someone, say things out loud.” A cough works its way out, scraping my throat clean.
“You know, Dad, when I look at Fawn, I think . . . if that branch hadn’t snapped, I never would’ve met her.
I never would’ve felt what I do right now .
. . I thought I hated you, but I don’t. I just hated myself, and that’s why, after your death, I tried to end it.
I wish I had never punched you. I regret it so fucking much.
” A tear traces its way down my cheek while my thumb moves over a dry petal. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
A robin calls from deeper in the trees, the sound echoing through the quiet.
My hand moves to my face, intercepting the tear before it reaches my jaw.
“I know I should talk to Mom,” I admit. “She’s hurting too, but every time I pick up the phone, I freeze.
I think I’m too ashamed to admit what happened. ”
My eyes drift up through the branches, sunlight breaking in small, warm patches.
“Fawn doesn’t know about the dark thoughts.
She already looks at me like I’m . . . good.
Worth something. I don’t want to ruin that.
Don’t wanna scare her off. But at the same time .
. . she makes me want to tell the truth.
She makes me want to rip open every dark corner and let the light in, even if it fucking burns me. ”
The ground tilts beneath me. I plant my feet, steadying myself. “I think you’d like her, she’s beautiful and strong in a way I can’t explain.”
The air feels like a warm hand on the back of my neck, like a presence, like my father is there by my side. “I’m trying, Dad, to be someone you’d be proud of. Someone who deserves her.”
I tip my head back toward the sky and close my eyes. The sounds of the world move through me.
I pull in a slow breath, blink the world back into focus, and push myself upright.
The marble feels cold under my touch. “I’ve gotta get going.
I’ve got a date with my beautiful girl,” I say, knocking the dirt from my jeans with the back of my hand.
“Uh, thanks for listening. I’ll be back soon, old timer. I love you.”
The trees above me rustle, casting sunspots on my skin as I calmly walk away.
My palms come together, the sound sharp against the stillness, and dust lifts off them. I feel lighter now, like a heavy load has finally fallen away.
Fawn stays in my mind, her smile, how her eyes light up when she looks at me, how her laugh pours straight out of her soul. I breathe better when I’m in her orbit. I breathe as I should.
She doesn’t repair me; I know that’s not her role, but she makes this world seem a little less rough around the edges, a little more inviting.
Just the thought of her makes me smile.