Chapter 46 Past
Of course, it didn’t take long for the rumors to start. Half-truths. Flat-out lies. Some said Phil caught Paul with his "Yankee girlfriend"—someone must’ve seen me running for the house in nothing but a t-shirt. But honestly? I didn’t care. Let them talk.
Paul was gone.
And I didn’t know how to exist in a world that he wasn’t in.
My parents tried to make sense of it all, but there was no sense to be made.
Molly came over every day—we didn’t talk, she just sat there—holding me.
No one knew what to say—including me.
I just kept replaying that night in my head. How could everything I loved be here one moment, and gone the next?
About a week after Phil was released from the hospital—he moved forward with the funeral even though Nick wasn’t going to be able to make it.
It was the first time I’d been out of the house since that night.
The whole town showed up—it was standing room only. Phil gave a brief eulogy—I could barely stand to sit through it. Team mates and other people from the town shared their memories of Paul—even the little girl he saved stood up and shared a few words. It was a beautiful service—one he deserved.
I didn’t say anything. I just sat there in the back of the church—in a black dress, hair pulled into a knot—his t-shirt folded in my hands.
I couldn’t cry. I could barely breathe.
I did try to go to the graveside service, but I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t watch them lower him into the ground.
That would’ve made it too real. Too final.
A week had passed. The gossip in town had started to settle, but the shock of what happened—that would linger for years.
I walked down the stairs, still wearing Paul’s t-shirt. I hadn’t left my bed, but I hadn’t really slept either.
Mom was at the kitchen counter. When she saw me, she gave me a soft look and asked if I wanted anything to eat. Her voice was careful—like one wrong word might crack me in half. She didn’t push. She hadn’t pushed since the night everything changed.
I sat at the table and laid my head down. The cool plastic tablecloth was a strange kind of comfort against my tear-burned face.
“Sweetheart,” she said softly, her voice frayed around the edges. “I think I know something that might help.”
I mumbled into the table, too exhausted to lift my head.
“Huh?”
I finally raised my face. My cheeks were wet. My voice was cracked. “Unless you’re about to tell me this was all just a bad dream, and Paul’s still alive…I don’t think anything will help.”
She didn’t answer right away—just gave me a long, aching look. Then she took a breath.
“Let’s go for a drive.”
…
We pulled up to the cemetery.
“Mom,” I whispered, my eyes locked on my hands. “I can’t.”
“I think you can.” She gently tilted my chin and motioned toward the gates.
Standing there, dressed in full military blues, was Nick Newsome.
I didn’t say anything. Just looked at her, hoping she’d give me a reason to stay in the car. But instead, she gave me a nod of encouragement.
I opened the door. Closed it quietly. My fingers lingered on the handle longer than they should have. Then I took a deep breath and walked toward him.
Nick didn’t speak. Neither did I.
We just started walking—side by side — towards his mom’s grave. There was a fresh mount of dirt covered in wilting flowers just beside it—the grave marker read: Paul Newsome.
Finally, Nick’s voice broke through the quiet.
“I shouldn’t have left him,” he said. “I should’ve been there. It’s all my fault.”
Tears streamed down his face.
I wanted to stop him—to say something that would make it better—but I didn’t know how.
“No,” I said, trying to find words. “It’s not your fault… your dad…” But the rest wouldn’t come. It got stuck somewhere behind the lump in my throat.
He looked at me—with a deep inhale he began, “He loved you.”
My heart twisted.
“He wanted to marry you,” Nick added, barely above a whisper. “I know it sounds dumb—he was just a kid. But he knew. He knew you were the one.”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. The weight of it all sat heavy on my chest.
Nick must’ve seen it—because he shifted.
Clearing his throat-
“I got my orders,” he said, voice quieter now. “I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye… to them.”
He nodded toward their graves.
I finally found my voice. “Nick…”
He turned to me.
“Paul loved you. And I know you made them both proud.”
He didn’t say anything. Just nodded slowly, like he was filing the words away somewhere he could revisit when it hurt less.
We stood there in silence for a little while longer. Then, finally, he turned.
“I have to catch my bus back.”
I tried to press my lips into a tight smile but it was a failed attempt. My head dropped, “Be careful.”
He rested a hand on my shoulder, his voice low and raspy.
“Remember… bad things happen—”
His voice caught as his hand fell.
And then he walked away.
I watched him disappear from sight.
And after a long moment, I finally found my voice.
“But so do great things…” I whispered, as the tears began to fall.
“And I’m going to focus on that.”