Chapter 23 #2
“You’re beautiful,” I repeated, just to make sure it sank in. “You’re kind. You’re smart. You make the best cookies I’ve ever tasted. And every time we’re together, I can’t believe it gets better.”
Genevieve’s cheeks turned a rosy pink. “I thought it was just me. I haven’t, uh, been with anyone in a long time. And even then, I’m not very experienced.”
“Same.”
“Really?” She furrowed her forehead. “As previously stated, you’re sexy as hell. I bet women were crawling all over you.”
I chuckled. “When I was younger, yeah. Maybe. But then . . .”
“Right. Shannon. You were with her.”
“No.” I shook my head. “We were never together.”
Genevieve’s jaw dropped. “But—”
“We didn’t. Not once.” Neither of us had wanted to have sex. We hadn’t thought it was right, considering she was having Kaine’s baby. We’d kissed. We’d held hands. But her body, otherwise, had been for that baby.
Genevieve tapped her fingertips on the wheel like she was counting them. “So before me, you weren’t with a woman in—”
“Years.” Six of them, to be exact. Genevieve had broken my dry spell. I was sure those first couple of times together, I’d put on a horrible performance. Maybe that was why I’d been trying to make it up to her ever since we’d stopped pretending we didn’t crave one another.
“It’s been a long time for me too.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “I was busy working. I went on some dates but there wasn’t anyone who I liked that much.”
God, I liked that. I liked that it was us, together.
I hadn’t even thought to ask her if she’d had a boyfriend in Denver.
We’d gotten married and I’d just assumed there was no one she’d left behind.
I was really fucking glad there wasn’t, that she wasn’t pining for someone I hadn’t even realized might exist.
Did she think I was still pining for Shannon?
“Genevieve.” I waited until she glanced over, until I had her attention for a second. “You stand apart. From everyone.”
She faced forward. “Is it bad to say I’m jealous? Because she had you first.”
“There’s nothing to be jealous about. I loved Shannon, but I’m not in love with her memory.”
My heart wasn’t hers anymore. I’d given it to Genevieve.
“What was Shannon like?” Genevieve was the only person who said Shannon’s name without fear of how I’d react.
“She was sweet. Her parents used to say she’d been a fairy in another life.”
She’d been bright and sunny. She’d floated more than walked. But she’d been fragile, like a flower. She hadn’t had Genevieve’s strength. She never would have survived the things Genevieve had this past year.
Shannon’s parents had been like that too.
Soft. Kind, but soft. I thought about them often and how they’d coped with losing their daughter.
According to Mom, they still lived in Bozeman.
Mom had bumped into them at Costco not long after I’d gotten out of prison.
Mom had left her cart in the aisle and left the store, not because she couldn’t handle the encounter, but because she knew Shannon’s parents might not.
It was part of the reason my life in Bozeman had been so confined to Mom’s house after prison. It had become a cage of its own. I hadn’t wanted to run into old friends or Shannon’s family.
I’d worked at a lube shop in the shitty end of town, where the chances of running into anyone from the past were slim. I’d lived dirt cheap with Mom, waiting until my two years of parole were up, then I’d started looking for a job outside of Bozeman.
Enter Draven and the Clifton Forge Garage.
And I’d gotten the hell out of Bozeman before I’d suffocated.
“I never apologized to them,” I confessed. “To Shannon’s parents.”
“It’s not too late. Maybe you could write them a letter.”
The counselor in prison had said the same. “A letter feels like a cop-out.”
I deserved to feel their wrath head-on, not hide behind a piece of paper. Not leave them alone to suffer my words without the chance to retaliate.
“Do you know where they live?”
I nodded. “In Bozeman.”
Genevieve opened her mouth but closed it without a word.
“What?”
She stayed silent.
“Tell me.”
“No. I’m trying not to push you.”
Maybe that was what I needed. She had this way of giving me time. She gave me patience and grace. I didn’t deserve any of it, but what she’d said last night had been in my head all morning.
Do you think, someday, the past will stop defining who you are?
The guilt of Shannon’s death was permanent. It was as much a part of me now as the tattoos on my skin. But there was a difference between living with the guilt and letting it control my life.
Until recently, there hadn’t been much for me to live for. Guilt and shame had been my bed partners. Now, I only wanted Genevieve in my heart while we slept. I wouldn’t get there on my own.
“What if you did?” I asked. “What if you pushed me?”
“Then I’d drive you to their house and wait for you in the car.”
I swallowed hard. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
I put my hand on her leg. “Okay.”
When we reached Bozeman, I didn’t give her directions to Mom’s house. I took us toward Shannon’s parents’ place instead.
“Do you think they still live here?” Genevieve slowed as we drove through a quiet neighborhood.
At the end of the block ahead, I spotted the two-story green home with the rust-red roof. “Yeah.”
Yeah, they still lived there. Because in the yard was a familiar head of blond hair, bent low to tug at a patch of weeds in a flower bed.
Kathy. Shannon’s mom.
“Park here,” I ordered and Genevieve jerked the car over to the sidewalk, stopping one house down. I pointed to Kathy as Shannon’s father, Timothy, came out of the house, wiping at something on his hands. “That’s them.”
“Her parents?” she asked, taking off her sunglasses.
I nodded, unable to speak or rip my eyes away. Kathy looked up at Timothy and smiled. It wasn’t big or flashy, but it was pure. There wasn’t a bit of sorrow on her face. What Kathy felt was what she showed. I knew because Shannon had been the same way. She’d inherited that same carefree smile.
Timothy said something to Kathy, making her toss her head back and laugh. They both did. Then he dropped to his knees beside her, put an arm around her shoulders and hauled her close for a kiss on the temple.
Kathy patted his cheek with her garden gloves on. It must have left a smudge because they laughed again as she cleaned him off.
The scene hit me square in the chest. I didn’t dare blink in case it vanished. “They look . . .”
“Happy,” Genevieve finished.
I nodded, my eyes struggling to believe what I was seeing. Could that be right? How was she smiling? How was he laughing? Hadn’t I ruined their lives?
Maybe it was all a show. Maybe they were miserable and putting on a happy face for one another. I guess I’d find out.
I unbuckled my seat belt and reached for the handle, but before I could open the door, Genevieve’s arm shot out.
“Don’t.” She grabbed my elbow.
“Huh?” I let go of the door’s handle.
“Don’t go.”
“But I thought—”
“They let it go.” She dropped her hand and turned back to Kathy and Timothy. “They found a way to be happy and made it through the grief. Don’t bring it to their doorstep.”
My shoulders fell. “I want closure, V.”
“I know, baby. But this apology, is it for them? Or is it for you?”
We both knew it was the latter.
Genevieve and I sat frozen, watching them as they weeded. As the long moments passed, as they worked their way around their yard trimming daffodils and tulips, I realized that this was my closure.
They gave it to me by living.
Every moment that passed, every smile they shared, it didn’t seem fake. This was no show. They’d lost their daughter. They’d lost their baby granddaughter. But here they were, living.
Mom had told me once that Kaine had found some closure with Shannon when he’d visited her grave. I’d tried it. Twice. Each time, I’d left feeling worse than when I’d arrived because staring at that gray tombstone, I’d known she’d never be back. I’d put her in the ground.
I hadn’t needed a grave to give me closure. I’d needed this.
Life.
“They let it go,” I whispered as Timothy plucked a flower and handed it to his wife.
That flower was hope that maybe one day soon, I could let go of the pain too and live my life with the woman by my side.
I buckled my seat belt. “I’m ready to go home.”
“To see your mom?”
I shook my head. “No. I’ll call later and make our excuses. We’ll come back to see her another day. Right now, I just want to go home. With you.”
“Are you okay?”
I took one last look at Kathy and Timothy. They were walking, arm in arm, toward the house. I committed their smiles to memory, then turned to Genevieve.
She glowed. If my heart left her breathless, then hers gave me a reason to breathe. Did she know how much she meant to me?
No. Because I hadn’t told her.
“I don’t want to be fake married anymore.”
She flinched. “Oh.”
“How about you wear that ring for real?”
Her eyebrows came together. “I don’t—what?”
“I don’t deserve you.”
“Isaiah—”
“Let me finish.”
She clamped her mouth shut and nodded.
“I don’t deserve you, V, but I can’t give you up.” If she wanted to go, I wouldn’t stand in her way. But if she left, I’d never be the same again.
Genevieve’s eyes flooded. “I don’t want to give you up either.”
A smile spread across my face—it only made her cry harder. “So you’ll stay my wife?”
She sniffled, swiping at the tears on her cheeks. Then she leaned over, stretching to brush a kiss to my lips. “Yes.”