Chapter Twenty-Two
Truett
I t had been two days since I’d heard from Gwen. A part of me was coming apart at the seams, fighting the urge to reach out to her. For a man who lived locked away in his house, space was not my forte. Space from Gwen was even harder.
I’d been able to distract myself with work, but the nights were hard. Straying from my virtually unrecognizable routine, I’d stayed up late playing out all the potential scenarios.
In some, she fell into my arms, vowing that she loved me too.
In others, she told me to take a hike and never spoke to me again.
I’d refused to allow myself to get trapped in my usual cycle of doom and gloom. So for the most part, I mixed and matched all the potential highs and lows.
There was no way she hadn’t felt the connection between us—the overwhelming feeling of right. The way our bodies, while technically strangers, had joined together like two halves forming one whole.
I hated that the idea of us scared her—and that I’d been the one to cause that.
But I couldn’t let her go again.
Which then led me to the spiral of what-ifs, trying to imagine what would happen if she did give me that chance. The obstacles still standing in our way were not just hurdles. They were volcanos waiting to erupt, with lava so hot it could snuff out even the strongest bond.
We had so much to talk about. So much I needed to tell her, to explain to her, and I wanted to beg her to love me anyway. If she was willing to give me a chance, we could sit down and have a candid discussion the way she’d always begged me for in the past. I couldn’t give it to her then, but I finally felt like I could now. With Gwen at my side, anything seemed possible.
Naively, I’d assumed that would be the second step in getting her back. Something we could deal with together, after she agreed to give us another shot.
At least that was what I thought until my phone buzzed in my pocket, an alert from my video doorbell letting me know motion had been detected on the front porch. I clicked the notification, her face lighting up the screen just as her knock sounded at the door.
“Shit,” I rumbled, lurching off the couch. My first thought went to Folly, fearing he’d gone to her again. Though when I squinted at the video, she was sporting a gentle smile. It would have soothed me immediately had she not been standing at my fucking front door . With two large totes hooked over her shoulders, she rocked onto her toes, waiting for me to open up.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Frantic, I swung my gaze around my living room. Realizing there was nothing I could do about any of that shit in the next thirty seconds, I glanced down at myself. I’d changed into gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt after work. It wasn’t the best, but not the worst, either.
She knocked again, causing nerves to roll in my stomach.
I blew out a ragged breath, smoothed down the top of my hair, and then padded to the front door.
“Hey,” she chirped.
Standing in the doorway, I smiled. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
She peered up at me, her hair fluttering in a gentle breeze. “I think we need to go on a date.”
My eyebrows shot up, victory skyrocketing within me. “I think you would be absolutely correct.” I swayed my head from side to side. “But are we talking about a date as friends? Or lovers? Or something more along the lines of me finishing up the wiring in the restaurant’s bathroom?”
She gave me a curt nod. “Yes.”
I chuckled. “Okay, but what part are we starting with?”
“If you promise to never refer to us as ‘lovers’ again, I would very much like to start with a romantic dinner.” She patted one of the bags, and I noticed the top of a carrot sticking out. “I’ll cook for you and then you can massage my shoulders. Deal?”
My smile stretched so wide my face physically hurt. I lifted my fingers and wiggled them at her. “I’ll start stretching these babies out now.”
She laughed. “Good. Now, move and let me in. I’ve got an entire pork loin in here and it’s getting heavy.”
The sound of my smile crashing could have been heard around the world. “Wait. Why aren’t you cooking at the restaurant?”
“Because I’d rather we not suffocate from paint fumes on this date.” She stepped to the side, trying to get around me but I blocked her path.
“I don’t mind paint fumes.”
“Quit being silly.” She stepped to the right and I moved with her.
“No. We can’t do it here. I, uh…” I laughed awkwardly. “It’s a mess in here. I’d be so embarrassed. Just let me grab some shoes and we can head to the restaurant. It will give me a chance to touch up the edging in the kitchen while you cook.”
She laughed. “Truett, your mess is my definition of organization. I promise not to judge your one single dirty plate in the sink.”
She started left, so I went with her, my frazzled mind trying to come up with any excuse to keep her from going inside. But at the last second she spun around me, ducking under my arm into the house.
“Ha! Gotcha! You gotta be faster than—”
I died right along with her words.
The bags slid from her limp arms, landing on the floor with a loud thud.
Embarrassment engulfed me, a boulder of shame settling in my gut. I didn’t want her to see that. I didn’t want anybody to see that.
As she stood there, her gaze sliding through my house, the obstacle that I’d feared would be a volcano erupted right before my eyes.
“What is this?” she whispered, lifting a trembling hand to her mouth.
I shook my head, not knowing how to answer. Or even if I should. After all, she’d lived in that house. And not just the same address. It was the same…exact…house, frozen in time for over eighteen years. Nothing, from the couches and tables to the pictures and paint on the walls, had changed. It was the same wood floors and tattered area rugs. Not even the TV had been upgraded.
Everything was older now, but I’d kept it up as best I could.
“Truett,” she whispered, tears already in her voice. Bending over, she picked up Kaitlyn’s sneaker from the shoe rack beside the door. “Oh, God,” she croaked, turning it in her fingers. She looked up, catching sight of the basket of toys beside the couch. Still carrying the shoe, she walked over and squatted in front of it. She lifted a toy tiger in a doll’s tutu, wearing homemade pink glitter shoes. “This isn’t happening.”
My throat got tight, not a syllable able to pass through.
When I didn’t respond, she dropped the toy and the shoe and then sprinted down the hall as if she feared I was going to stop her.
I wasn’t.
I couldn’t.
Not even as I heard the door of Kaitlyn’s bedroom creak open.
A mixture of shock and agony filled her chanted cries. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no!”
I knew what she was seeing. An unmade bed, a hamper of dirty clothes, a cup from which the water had long since evaporated still sitting on the nightstand. A coloring book open to a picture of a tiger. Crayons haphazardly spread around the floor. A row of stuffed animals lining the back of the bed.
I’d memorized every inch of that room, because standing in that doorway was my Friday routine.
Eighteen years earlier…
“Why doesn’t she just go home?” I snapped in a shitty tone that had become the only tone I possessed anymore.
Allen Stanley, the Doogie Howser of the VA’s therapists, narrowed his eyes. “What part of Gwen waiting outside upsets you the most?”
The part where I know she’s out there, within my reach, for the first time in months.
The part where she fucking smiled when she saw me get out of his car, still happy to see me after the absolute hell I’d put her through.
The part where she was still wearing her wedding ring despite the fact that we were divorced.
“She shouldn’t have to deal with this.”
“Did you get the feeling that she thought of this meeting as a burden?”
No. Not my Gwen. She loved so damn hard she’d have sprinted through the gates of hell if she thought there was even the smallest chance of saving me.
“I don’t know,” I replied.
“You want to tell me what you’re feeling right now?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I snapped, using the back of my hand to wipe away the sweat beading on my forehead. “A whole fuck-ton of nothing.”
“Truett, if you want this to work, you have to be honest with me—and yourself.”
I cussed under my breath. Not wanting to dive deeper into the topic of Gwen, I went for a distraction. “Look around. Everyone’s so fucking happy.”
“Does that seem unfair to you? That you can’t be happy too?”
“Fair?” I barked a humorless laugh. “What part of any of this is fair?”
“You’re right. It’s not. You’ve been through a horrible tragedy. You’re allowed to be frustrated and angry. But I’m proud of you for coming here today.”
“Oh, goodie. Does that earn me a gold star? Free personal pan pizza? Another fistful of pills to pop at bedtime?”
“Do you think you need more meds?” His calm voice grated on my exposed nerves.
“For the love of God, stop asking me questions.”
“Okay,” he replied.
In his silence, my mind went back to Gwen sitting outside. How the hell that woman could still muster a smile when she saw me, I couldn’t understand. I couldn’t even look in the mirror without wanting to break it.
Shaking my head, my filter slipped and I blurted, “Gwen shouldn’t have to deal with this. I’ve put her through enough.”
Allen leaned back in his chair, eying me closely. “You want to reframe that?”
“Not in the least,” I grumbled.
He dipped his chin, his black frame glasses sliding down his nose. “Okay, let me give it a try, then. Gwen was eager to come here today because she’s heard about your incredible progress and is excited that you are so open and willing to work on yourself.”
Open and willing was the stretch of a lifetime. I’d only recently gotten out of a sixty-day stint at a rehabilitation facility after I’d spent months locked in a house, dodging doctors and therapists almost as often as friends and family. If I couldn’t prove I could become a functioning member of society again, I was at risk of losing everything.
Allen called it exposure therapy. I called it medically sanctioned torture. But if I wanted Gwen to trust me again, I needed to learn to trust myself.
Allen had been taking me out on “adventures” for over a month.
At first, it had been simple things like walking into a coffee shop and ordering a drink to go.
The next time we’d go out, we’d sit and stay for a few minutes.
Baby steps, he called it.
Eventually, we’d worked up to hour-long walks in the park, grocery shopping, and once, much to my absolute horror, Putt-Putt Golf.
But on that particular day, after much debate and Allen’s constant reassurances, we’d decided it was time for my ultimate test—a mall food court in Watersedge, New Jersey, ten minutes from Gwen’s new apartment.
“Daddy!” Kaitlyn yelled, racing over to me with a drink in her hand.
Daniel balanced a tray of food a few feet behind her.
“I got Sprite!” Kaitlyn skidded to a stop in front of me. “You want a sip?”
I smiled genuinely, as only she could draw from me. God, she looked so much like her mother it both filled my heart and emptied my soul.
I could still remember like it was yesterday, when Gwen had come to me crying, holding a positive pregnancy test. We were still in high school, irresponsible and wildly in love, but one look at that flickering heartbeat on the ultrasound and I discovered the reason for my existence. Her parents were livid, but I put a ring on her finger the very next day. While Gwen worked her ass off to finish high school early, I joined the Army, hell-bent to be the husband and father my dad had never been.
In the last six months, I’d failed Gwen in every possible way, but I was working to get my life together for Kaitlyn.
“Nah, I don’t need a sip. That’s all yours.” I glanced up at Daniel and quirked an eyebrow. “Gwen’s gonna kick your ass for giving her soda.”
He shrugged. “I’ll take my chances. It’s a special day.”
It was a special day. It was the first time I’d been out of the house with Kaitlyn in months. And in true father-of-the-year fashion, I’d had to bring a shrink to babysit me and my younger brother to babysit Kaitlyn in order to do it.
Sipping on her drink, Kaitlyn walked around the table and climbed into the chair beside me, while Daniel sat next to Allen.
Passing Kaitlyn a box of cheese fries, I leaned in close, her long brown hair tickling my nose. “Did you get an application for head chicken nugget maker while you were over there?”
She let out a giggle that momentarily soothed the searing pain in my chest. “No. I want to be a vet now so I can take care of all the cute puppies and kittens.”
“Oh, so you turned six and suddenly head chicken nugget maker isn’t good enough for you anymore?” I poked her in the side, and she squirmed away from me, laughing.
“Mom said it’s better to help the animals instead of eat them.”
I nodded. “So that means no more bacon?”
Her brown doe eyes flashed wide. “Bacon isn’t an animal!”
I screwed my lips shut. “Right. Of course not. Silly Daddy.”
She picked up a fry and popped it into her mouth, chewing as she spoke. “Why don’t we get bacon anymore?”
The same reason we didn’t live under the same roof anymore?
And why we didn’t go play at the playground anymore?
And why I didn’t take her to school each morning anymore?
Or read her bedtime stories? Or kiss her boo boos? Or…or…anything?
“I don’t know, baby. Maybe we can go back to The Grille soon.”
Her chubby cheeks dimpled as she smiled. The twinkle in her eyes was so full of joy, it illuminated the darkness inside my soul. In that moment, with that vision of her etched on my eyelids for the rest of eternity, I could have died a happy man.
Death had other plans.
Suddenly, a sharp, deafening crack tore through the air. Adrenaline exploded in my system as I recognized the gunfire immediately.
“Get down!” I shouted, diving over Kaitlyn and knocking over the table in the process. I was careful to protect her head as we hit the floor, my body covering her completely.
Chaos erupted around us. Screams echoed from every direction as people ran, a stampede of panicked feet, trying to make their escape.
My heart pounded as the boom of bullets continued, each shot bleeding into the last.
I lifted my head a fraction, searching for the source of the madness, but all I saw was Allen, still sitting in his chair, slouched over, a gaping hole in his head.
My stomach rolled, newfound panic detonating inside me. What the fuck was happening? How was I suddenly in a war zone? And in the nightmare of all nightmares, why was Kaitlyn with me?
I fought my trembling body to stay in the present.
Before I’d agreed to come, I’d mapped out the exits, and I sat so I faced the door—safety measures I’d insisted on. I’d thought that I’d prepared for the worst, and somehow, this was more horrifying than I ever could have imagined.
“Stay down, baby,” I whispered, scanning the area, assessing our options. I caught sight of Daniel first. He was thankfully hidden behind a tall concrete pillar, seemingly unharmed.
I finally spotted the shooter near the main doors of the food court. A rifle hung over his chest, at least a dozen magazines clipped to his belt. But nothing was as terrifying as when I realized he was wrapping a chain around the doors—locking us in.
A new level of panic detonated inside me. I had to get her out of there. There had to be another way. It was a fucking mall; he couldn’t have chained all the exits.
More gunfire rang through the air, screams preceding the sound of bodies hitting the floor. My pulse spiked, desperation fueling my adrenaline. With Kaitlyn still hidden beneath me, I glanced over my shoulder, spotting the service hallway a few yards away. It was partially hidden behind a cardboard cutout of a baseball player advertising his upcoming mall appearance. There was a door at the end of the long corridor, one that would have been easily missed by most.
It was my chance.
My only chance.
Utterly still, I watched as the shooter paced a path around the food court. I waited for a lull in the gunfire, every second stretching into an eternity. When I saw him stop to reload, his back to us at the far end of the food court, I decided to make a break for it. I’d only have a few seconds to get her to safety, but it was now or never.
“Baby, I need you to hold onto daddy’s neck, okay?” I whispered. “I’m going to get you out of here. Just keep your eyes closed. I’ve got you.”
Pushing myself up onto my elbows, I started to scoop her off the floor, ready to run for both of our lives. “Hang on,” I ordered, but when she didn’t cling to my neck, I looked down, getting my first look at her since the bullets had sounded.
It was only a second of my twenty-four years on Earth.
One blink. One heartbeat.
But I could have lived a thousand lifetimes and the vision of my baby girl, bloody and lifeless, would still be carved into the marrow of my bones.
“No,” I hissed, frantically patting her down, trying to find the source of blood pooling around her. “Kaitlyn, come on. Stay with me.” With the danger taking a back seat to my fears, I sat up, checking her pulse. Finding none, I immediately started CPR.
“Truett, get down,” Daniel whispered from somewhere nearby.
No. I could save her. I could still save her.
Tears poured from my eyes as I started chest compressions, begging any and every God in the universe to bring her back to me. As the spray of bullets ricocheted around us, I feared she’d be hit again, so I pulled her toward an overturned table, a worthless shield in a worthless fight.
Allen had once explained to me that, when a brain experiences trauma, it reroutes what it’s seeing in order to protect itself. And as I stared at my baby girl, my mind started to close in on me, dragging her from my clutches even as I fought to stay in the present.
I didn’t remember when I stopped CPR.
I didn’t remember when I released her.
I didn’t remember when my brain decided I needed to take cover to protect myself.
The first thing I remembered of the events that followed was that a river of blood carved a path at my feet as I sat frozen—my ass on the tile, my back to an overturned table, the past melding into the terrifying present.