Chapter 26 #2
There had been laughter, flirting, and a blossoming friendship. Everything had been easy. Perfect. There’d been a whispered promise in the air of brighter days ahead; hope for a new life, with new friends and new beginnings.
But nothing good ever stayed.
I lightly tapped the screen and waited. Rustling and movement could be heard on the other side of the door, heightening my nerves.
I wrung my hands together when Kate finally pulled the door open, and we stared at each other in silence.
Kate blinked, registering my presence, almost like it was too far-fetched to be true.
“Hey,” I finally said, unable to piece together anything better.
Kate stood in front of me, propped up on a cane fisted in her right hand. She used her other hand to push open the screen and step outside. “I didn’t think you’d come by.”
I moved backward, giving Kate space to join me on the front walkway. My gaze drifted to the cane, and my heart pinched with remorse. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” I murmured.
“Yeah.” She swallowed. “Me, too.”
I ducked my head, guilt coursing through me. “I wanted to. I just…couldn’t. I couldn’t face you, and I know that makes me a coward…and I know you probably hate me, but I couldn’t deal with everything that happened. Everything I put you through.”
Kate studied me through stoic eyes, her face unreadable. “I don’t hate you.”
I glanced up at my friend. Kate didn’t look well—her hair was stringy and unwashed, her skin pasty, her body frail.
She had a look in her eyes that I recognized well.
It was the look of someone who had suffered.
“I’m sorry, Kate. I’m so sorry about James.
” My voice caught on his name as tears rushed to my eyes.
“You didn’t do it.”
“You don’t know the whole story, Kate.”
“I was there,” she countered. “You didn’t do it.”
I sucked in a breath and nodded. I’d allow Kate to believe that; it was easier that way.
“I, um…I also wanted to tell you that I’m leaving.
I’m going to be staying with my brother for a while, so I can work through everything,” I explained, monitoring Kate’s expression.
Still unreadable. “Now that I know Ryan isn’t a heroin addict and only avoided me for years because he was paid to do so by our grandmother, who was trying to protect me from a horrible secret…
” I took another deep breath as the absurdity truly sunk in.
“Well, I guess we have a lot of lost time to make up for.”
Kate swapped the cane with her opposite hand and shifted her weight. “How long will you be gone?” she wondered.
“I’m not sure. However long it takes, I guess.”
“Is my brother okay?”
My mind flashed back to the dock, certain the heartbreaking look in Cooper’s eyes would forever haunt me.
He wasn’t okay.
Nobody was okay.
“I think he’ll need time to process everything,” I said gently. “It wasn’t an easy decision.”
Kate pursed her lips together. “I see.” She was noticeably unconvinced as she sighed, then averted her eyes. “Well, take care of yourself, Abby. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for.”
When she was about to turn around, I stopped her. “Wait. I…I have something for you.” Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a check. “Here.”
Kate took it with tentative fingers. She frowned, blinking in astonishment when she fully registered the dollar amount. “What is this?”
“It’s for you. For your medical bills,” I explained. “For whatever you want.”
“I don’t want your money, Abby.”
I glanced down at my shoes, swallowed hard, and began to step away. “I don’t want it, either.” I sent Kate a final poignant look before walking back to my car. “Thank you for everything.”
As I pulled out of Kate’s driveway and made my way out of town, I noticed an old wooden sign offering its goodbyes.
We Hope You Enjoyed Your Stay In Crow’s Peak — Come Back Soon
I broke.
I cried so hard, I couldn’t see straight and had to pull over.
Ten minutes later, I regrouped. Refocused. I reminded myself that this was the right thing to do. I needed to heal, and I couldn’t heal in the same place that had broken me.
Regaining my strength and wiping the tears away, I continued forward.
Always forward. Always moving.
It was the only way.
An hour rolled by, and I swerved into a gas station parking lot to refill my tank and grab some water. I glanced inside my purse, tempted to text him, tempted to call. Craving his voice, his words…him. It had only been a few hours and I was already missing him like crazy.
I sifted through my purse for my cell phone.
A simple text wouldn’t hurt. I just wanted to check in on him, make sure he was okay.
I searched the main pouch and inside the zipper pockets, frowning when I came up empty.
Stuffing my hands between the seats, I felt around while assessing the floor by my feet.
Nothing.
I let out a groan of frustration.
And then I remembered.
My phone had died, so I’d plugged it in at Daphne’s to charge as we’d said our goodbyes.
Crap.
I’d forgotten my damn phone.