1. Tessa
Chapter one
Tessa
Present Day
The first day of school should come with a warning label for parents. Something along the lines of Caution: May contain spontaneous tears, a rollercoaster of emotions, and excessive photo taking.
I know what you’re thinking. It’s just a phase.
The tears won’t last forever. The first week or two is the hardest. As soon as he gets used to the new routine, he’ll do great!
But what about me? I wasn’t prepared for the torrent of emotions that came barreling through my chest as I watched my little boy saunter into the colorful classroom with his superhero backpack.
I made sure his sandy blond hair was styled with gel, despite knowing it wouldn’t last past the first recess break, because he insisted on “looking fancy” for his first day.
Starting kindergarten is all he has been able to talk about for weeks, but I was still expecting him to shed a tear or two, maybe wrap his little arms around my legs and hold on for dear life.
What I didn’t expect was to be the one with tears in my eyes as I tried to hold on to my son for just one more minute.
Over the years, I’ve gotten used to being a single parent, if that’s something you can even get used to.
It’s not a path I ever planned for, but then again, nobody plans to lose the love of their life.
No one ever talks about it either…what it’s like to lose your person.
When I first lost Ryan, everyone in my life treated me as if I were made of glass with cracks forming just beneath the surface.
As if one wrong move or misspoken word would shatter me completely.
Eventually, that faded and they all started treating me like normal again.
Except when that happened, the man I’d spent the last few years planning a future with was suddenly only part of my past.
“You should’ve seen him this morning, Ry.
He’s so excited to learn and make friends.
He insisted on wearing his light-up superhero shoes and spent the whole morning stomping around the kitchen because he wanted to make sure the lights were working.
” I laugh softly to myself, fighting back the sting of tears threatening to fall. “I wish you were here.”
The words hang in the silence as I sit parked outside of Lori's Diner, the air thick with a tension that never seems to dissipate. I’ve never been comfortable driving larger vehicles, but when it came time to get rid of one of ours, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of Ryan’s SUV.
For a while, driving it helped me feel closer to him.
Now it’s what I drive because it’s what I have.
A part of me is still clinging to the memories of him behind the wheel, but those memories have faded over the years, along with the scent of his cologne that no longer lingers in the leather seats.
I need to pull myself together before I go inside, tie an apron around my waist and force a smile as I power through the next few hours.
Ryan probably would have cried right alongside me today.
He was so excited to become a dad. He used to swear he was looking forward to every part of it.
The ultrasounds, the delivery, the endless diaper changes, the late-night feedings, suffering through lack of sleep thanks to colic, testing out solid foods, first steps, and first words.
He wanted it all, and instead, he has missed everything.
The town called him a hero. Articles about him were published in the local newspaper, neighbors and people who worked at the station delivered meals and casseroles, and I was bombarded with enough flowers to open a floral shop, but none of it mattered.
No amount of condolences would ever bring him home.
I used to carry this fear that the grief I felt while I was pregnant with Jacob would somehow sink into his soul and impact him before he was even brought into this world.
I remember the first time I heard him laugh.
It was this bright, full-belly, unfiltered sound.
A weight was lifted from my shoulders when his laughter filled the room, and I remember releasing this deep, heavy sigh and sending out a silent thank you.
Somehow, Jake carried his father’s light.
Ryan’s parents were out of town on vacation when the accident happened, and by the time they came home, I’d fallen so deeply into the dark that I refused to see them—or anyone else who had been close to my husband.
When I finally got confirmation that I was pregnant a few weeks after the funeral, they were some of the last people to find out.
Had he still been here, Ryan would’ve called them the day those two pink lines appeared. His mother would have cried tears of joy while his father’s deep laugh boomed in the background with a “Congrats, Son!”
As fate would have it, I was wearing one of Ryan’s old hooded sweatshirts and a pair of leggings because it was all that felt comfortable when I ran into his mom, Caroline Miller, at the grocery store.
She took one look at me, and tears immediately filled her eyes.
Happiness, heartbreak, and anger all simultaneously flooded her features.
At first, she accused me of having an affair and said I should be ashamed of myself for doing this to Ryan.
She stood there screaming at me in the middle of the freezer aisle, calling me more vulgar names than I care to repeat.
When she was finally finished with her tantrum, I calmly told her, with tears in my eyes, that the baby was his.
I knew she wasn’t angry with me and she didn’t actually believe that I would have betrayed Ryan, but grief makes people do and say terrible things. Still, I went home that night, buried my face in my husband’s pillow, inhaled the faint, lingering scent of him, and cried myself to sleep.
Life wasn’t supposed to turn out this way.
Ryan was meant to be here for all of this.
Instead, he died trying to save a stranger’s life.
And that’s maybe the cruelest part. There’s an undercurrent of anger that lives beneath my skin like molten lava with nowhere to go.
Because what right do I have to be angry at him for leaving me the way he did?
It takes me a few more minutes of fighting for composure before I climb from the car and make my way inside.
Lori’s Diner sits on one of the busiest corners in the main part of town.
The building’s wooden exterior was updated a few years ago with a fresh coat of white paint, contrasting beautifully with the red brick lining the bottom of the building.
The entry door is now a buttery sunshine yellow—a color Lori insists makes people happy—and light blue curtains hang on either side of each window.
I thought working here would be temporary, something to help me get back on my feet after losing Ryan.
But a few months turned into years, and somewhere along the way, the people here became my family.
“Mornin’, Tess,” Loretta says as I step inside the diner.
The smell of bacon and pancakes wafts through the air, mixing with the delicious scent of freshly roasted coffee beans.
“Hank just put on a fresh pot. You look like you could use it.” A soft smile spreads across her face as she finishes pouring some into a mug for Mr. Robertson, one of the locals who frequents Lori's during the week.
“Thanks, Lori.” My steps are slow as I make my way behind the counter. My body feels weighed down, like something is gripping my shoulders and making it difficult to move comfortably.
It's been nearly six years, and for the most part, I'm able to make it through each day without the inky black hole of grief consuming me. Today, preventing myself from letting the misery take hold is going to be a challenge.
“You alright this morning?” Loretta asks, joining me behind the counter and setting the pot of coffee down.
“Jake started school this morning,” I tell her, hoping it'll be enough of an explanation for my splotchy cheeks and the tint of red lingering in my eyes thanks to the sting of tears I was helpless to fight.
I knew today wouldn't be easy, but I wasn't expecting it to hit me as hard as it did.
My little boy spent the morning over the moon with excitement about starting school.
While his mood was contagious, I was also mentally adding the day to the list of things that Ry had missed out on.
Moments in time that come and go in the blink of an eye.
“I bet he was excited,” she says.
“Oh, he was. He spent the morning stomping around in his light-up shoes. I was barely out of bed, and he’d already gotten dressed, backpack and all.”
With a smile on her face, she shakes her head fondly. “I remember when mine were little. Ben spent the morning in tears. Practically had to peel him off of me.”
“That’s kinda what I was expecting.” I laugh.
“But he was so excited. He couldn’t wait to get on the playground and make friends.
” My eyes burn with unshed tears as I turn away from her and take in the few filled tables and red vinyl booths.
I just need something to distract myself with for the next few hours.
Thankfully, my shift goes quickly. Tom Mercer, one of the town’s retired police officers, comes in for his usual coffee fix and to-go order.
He comes in once a week to pick up lunch to take home to his wife.
Visiting with him isn’t exactly the kind of distraction I had in mind, but he at least doesn’t treat me as though I need to be handled with care.
His entire career was spent with the Hartridge Police Department. I’m sure he’s no stranger to loss.
The small bell above the entry door chimes as I’m finishing my task of refilling the napkin dispensers and wiping down the tables from the afternoon rush.
Being in the diner when it’s quiet like this, during one of the rare lulls, is oddly peaceful.
I look up to see Olivia sliding onto one of the barstools at the counter, her nose buried in her phone.
I turn to face the wall of coffee mugs, each one unique.
Some of them were donated by locals, and some were picked up by Loretta and Hank on one of their many adventures.
There are even a few that I picked up myself, either at a secondhand store or while I was out shopping.
Apparently, Loretta was known for having a crazy coffee mug collection before opening the diner.
When she finally did, Hank insisted that her collection be used here instead.
Pulling down a light purple mug from where it sits on the shelf, I fill it with hot coffee and load it up with creamer. “Busy day?” I ask, setting it in front of Liv.
She drops her phone on the counter and sits back with a groan. “It’s been insane. I’m so ready for the weekend.” Her eyes flick to the purple mug, a smile spreading across her face. “You’re a lifesaver, Tess.” She takes a sip and closes her eyes, savoring the freshly brewed flavors.
“It’s only Monday,” I laugh. “A little too early to already be wishing for the weekend, don’t you think?”
Her eyes meet mine over the lip of the coffee mug before she sets it down, her hands still wrapped around it.
“You would think so, but Tilly’s stressing over every minor detail for the event on Friday.
I keep trying to tell her that once people get a few drinks in ‘em, they won’t care about half the stuff she’s worried about. ”
That doesn’t surprise me. Her sister, Tilly, has always been the type to overthink everything.
She lets the smallest of things get to her, and once something goes wrong, she starts worrying about everything else.
Whereas Olivia is more of the laid-back, go-with-the-flow type.
Honestly, most days I don’t know how they can stand to run a business together.
“I’m sure everything will go off without a hitch come Friday,” I say. Knowing them, I wouldn’t expect anything less.
“You’re coming, right?” Excitement laces her words.
When she first mentioned their plans to host a line dancing and mechanical bull riding night at their bar, The Stampede, I promised I would be there.
My parents didn’t hesitate to offer to keep Jake for the night, and while it won’t be the first time I’ve left him overnight with them, guilt still eats away at my stomach.
What if he gets sick while I’m out and I’m too busy having fun that I don’t hear my phone ringing or see their text messages?
What if he suddenly decides he would rather sleep in his own bed and wants to come home?
The thoughts swirling through my mind must be written across my face because Liv leans forward across the counter and says, “C’mon, Tess. It’s only one night. You deserve to let loose and have some fun.”
My chin dips to my chest, my eyes falling shut as I sigh.
She’s right. I know she’s right. The odds of anything happening are slim.
I used to enjoy our nights out all the time, and there’s a part of me that feels bad I haven’t been up to it in a long time.
But my son is older now. He’s in school now, something I swore was years and years away, and yet it managed to sneak up on me as though I blinked and the time vanished.
“I’ll be there,” I say reluctantly. The hint of unease churning inside of me isn’t going to go away, but I owe her this. She has always been by my side when I needed her the most. Now, it’s my turn to return the favor.
It’s only one night out. What could possibly happen?