41. Chapter 41
Caitlin
The pizza box sits open between us, the scent of grease and cheese filling our cramped hotel room.
Caitlin sits cross-legged on the opposite side of the bed, a slice in her hand.
I watch her take a bite, feeling strangely detached from the normalcy of the moment.
Just hours ago, I was staring at my father in a hospital bed, tubes snaking from his arms, his face pale against the white pillowcase.
Now I’m here, watching Caitlin lick sauce from her thumb, as if we’re just two people sharing dinner after a long day.
“So,” Caitlin says, breaking the silence. “Who’d have guessed there would only be one room available at the inn? At least it’s got more than one bed, eh?” She waggles her eyebrows in an exaggerated manner.
“We could have found a different hotel, you know.” I chuckle, helping myself to another slice.
“Meh, this one was fine. I think I can handle sleeping in the same room as you. Besides,” she leans forward, her eyes crinkling at the corners, “I think we need to stick together. You know, just in case certain people find out where we’re staying and try any funny business.”
“Certain people being my mother or Millie?”
“Yes.” She gives me an arch look over her slice of pizza. “I was surprised Millie wasn’t at the hospital, to be completely honest. I would have thought she’d have been all over that considering what a big part of the family she is.”
I shrug. “Lauren mentioned she’s been making a complete pest of herself since the heart attack.
Calling and texting everyone constantly for updates.
And earlier, she kept butting into conversations with Dad’s doctors and pestering the staff.
She was getting on even my mother’s nerves.
So Rhonda finally convinced her she needed to go home and rest.”
“Hopefully, she’ll stay home,” Caitlin mutters.
“God, I hope so.” The mere thought of seeing Millie again makes my skin crawl.
“You know what? Let’s not ruin a perfectly good pizza talking about her. If she shows up, we’ll deal with it together.”
I couldn’t agree more.
My mind drifts back to the hospital, to those few precious minutes with Dad.
I’d been shocked by how small he looked, dwarfed by the hospital bed and the machines surrounding him.
Gerald Kelley had always been larger than life in my mind, a force of nature.
But there in that sterile room, he’d looked old and fragile, his skin paper-thin and mottled with bruises from IVs.
His eyes had fluttered open when I spoke his name. Recognition had dawned slowly, then his cracked lips had curved into a weak smile.
“Adam,” he’d whispered, his voice barely audible over the beeping monitors. “You came.”
“Of course I came,” I’d told him, squeezing his hand gently, mindful of the IV.
“I’m so glad Adam…so happy you’re here…” Each word had seemed to cost him tremendous effort, but he’d squeezed my hand with surprising force.
The memory blurs as I feel Caitlin’s hand on my arm, pulling me back to the present.
“Where’d you go just now?” she asks softly.
I blink, realizing I’ve been staring at the same half-eaten slice of pizza for who knows how long. “Sorry. Just thinking about Dad.”
She sets her pizza down and wipes her hands on a napkin. “Lauren said he looked better than she expected, all things considered.”
“Yeah.” I nod, setting my own food aside. “The doctor seemed cautiously optimistic when we left. Said his vitals were improving.”
“I keep thinking about my mother,” I admit. “Her behavior tonight. The look on her face when Lauren told her dad had updated his medical paperwork. Like she couldn’t believe he’d actually cut her out.”
“She seemed genuinely shocked,” Caitlin agrees.
“You know what I’ve realized about my mother?
She creates her own reality, and when the real world doesn’t match up, she just…
refuses to accept it.” I shake my head, remembering Paula’s rigid posture in the waiting room chair, her icy glares.
“She really believed she could manipulate her way back into his life and bully me into falling back in line, even after everything that’s happened. ”
“Some people never change,” Caitlin says simply.
“No, they don’t.” I think of Millie then, and an involuntary shudder runs through me.
“Can I ask you something?” I say, my heart suddenly hammering in my chest.
“Of course.”
“Earlier, at the hospital, when my mother was being… well, my mother. You told her we were working things out.” I swallow hard, terrified of the answer but needing to know. “Did you mean that? Or was it just something to say, to shut her up?”
Caitlin tilts her head, a small furrow appearing between her brows. “Isn’t that what we’ve been doing? Working things out?”
Her question catches me off guard. “I… I wasn’t sure.”
“Adam,” she says, her voice gentle but firm, “why else would I have wanted to drag up everything that happened last year? Why else would I keep coming back?” She places her hand on the bed next to mine.
I stare at our hands, so close but not quite touching now. “Honestly? I thought we were saying goodbye.”
She goes still. “What?”
“I thought once the house was finished, I’d leave.
Go somewhere new, start over.” The admission feels like ripping off a bandage, exposing something raw underneath.
“I thought that after all the pain I put you through, you’d be happier if I wasn’t around.
That you needed me to finish the house and then disappear from your life. ”
Caitlin stares at me, her mouth slightly open, eyes wide with what looks like disbelief.
I hadn’t meant to tell her about my plan to leave once the house was finished, but exhaustion and the emotional whiplash of the day had lowered my defenses.
Now I can’t take it back, can’t pretend I hadn’t been planning my exit all along.
“You were going to leave?” Her voice is quiet, but there’s an undercurrent of something sharp beneath the surface. “Just finish the house and disappear?”
I swallow hard, unable to meet her eyes. “I thought it would be better for you. After everything I put you through, I figured the kindest thing I could do was finish what I started and then get out of your life.”
“The kindest thing.” She repeats my words slowly. Then she shakes her head, and to my surprise, a flash of anger crosses her face. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Caitlin—”
“You don’t get to do that, Adam.” Her voice rises slightly, hands clenched in her lap. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me without even asking. You don’t get to run away.”
I blink, startled by her vehemence. “I’m not running away. I’m trying to do the right thing.”
“The right thing?” She pushes the pizza box aside and shifts closer to me on the bed. “The right thing would be asking me what I want instead of making unilateral decisions about our future.”
“You’re right,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”
“No, you shouldn’t.” Her eyes soften slightly. “Adam, do you want to know what I want?”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
“I want you to stay.” The simple declaration makes my heart stutter in my chest. “I don’t want you to disappear from my life. I’ve spent months without you, and it was horrible. I don’t want to do it again.”
“But after everything that happened—”
“Yes, a lot of bad things happened.” She cuts me off, leaning forward to take my hands in hers.
Her fingers are warm against mine. “But good things are happening too. We’re talking now, really talking.
We’re working through the hard stuff instead of avoiding it.
We’re building something together, something built on trust and understanding. ”
I stare at our joined hands, hardly daring to believe what I’m hearing. “I keep waiting for you to realize you deserve better than me.”
“That’s not your decision to make.” Her fingers tighten around mine. “Do you hear me, Adam Kelley? You don’t get to decide what I deserve or what I want. Only I get to do that.”
The fierceness in her voice, the determined set of her jaw, makes something long-dormant flutter in my chest. Hope.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, meaning it more deeply than I can express.
“I’m sorry for trying to make decisions for you.
I’m sorry for thinking I knew what was best. And I know I keep saying it, but it will never be enough.
I’m sorry for everything I put you through here.
For Millie, for my family, for all of it.
” I squeeze her hands, willing her to feel the sincerity behind my words.
“And I promise you this: as long as you want me in your life, in whatever capacity, I will be there. I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to go. ”
She studies my face, searching for something. Whatever she finds seems to satisfy her, because her expression softens. “Good. Because if you tried to sneak away, I’ll just hunt you down. And I’ll bring Rachel with me and let her loose on you.”
A startled laugh escapes me. “Well, that’s definitely scary enough to keep me in line. Your cousin terrifies me.”
“Exactly.” She smiles, but it fades quickly into something more serious. “When I say I want you to stay, Adam, I mean it. But I also need you to be sure that staying is what you want too. Not just what you think I want, not what you think you owe me, but what you genuinely want for yourself.”
I don’t even have to think about my answer. “Being with you, near you, around you, in whatever way you’ll have me, it’s the only thing I’ve ever been completely sure about.”
The admission hangs between us, raw and honest. Caitlin’s eyes soften, and she takes a deep breath, like she’s steeling herself for something difficult.
“I have something I need to tell you,” she says.
My heart stutters, anxiety instantly flooding my system. “Okay,” I manage, bracing myself.
“I forgive you.”
Three simple words, yet they hit me with the force of a physical blow. I stare at her, certain I’ve misheard.
“What?”
“I forgive you, Adam.” Her voice is steady, her eyes clear and direct. “For Mount Pella. For Millie. For the cruise. For all the times you put her needs above mine. For all of it.”
I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t process the enormity of what she’s saying.
“Caitlin, I—” My voice breaks, and I have to stop, swallow hard against the lump forming in my throat. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” She reaches up, her palm warm against my cheek. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking these past weeks. About what happened, about why it happened. About how much of it was your fault and how much was circumstance and conditioning.”
I shake my head slightly, not wanting her to make excuses for me. “I made those choices. I hurt you.”
“Yes, you did,” she agrees. “But I also understand now how difficult those choices were for you. How much pressure you were under. How your mother manipulated you.” Her thumb brushes my cheekbone gently.
“Aunt Charlene helped me see that what your mother did to you was a form of abuse. Not physical, but emotional. She conditioned you to put Millie’s needs above your own, to feel responsible for her happiness.
That’s not normal or healthy, Adam. And breaking free from that kind of conditioning isn’t easy. ”
I close my eyes, overwhelmed by her understanding, by the gift of her forgiveness that I never expected and certainly don’t deserve.
“That doesn’t mean what happened was okay,” she continues. “It wasn’t. It hurt me deeply. But I can forgive you for it, and I do.”
When I open my eyes again, they’re wet. I don’t try to hide it. “Thank you,” I whisper, the words hopelessly inadequate but all I have to offer. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m grateful for it. So grateful.”
Caitlin’s expression softens further, but there’s still a hint of caution in her eyes. “I need you to understand something else, though. Forgiving you doesn’t mean I’m ready to jump right back into a relationship. It doesn’t mean I’m ready to trust you with my heart again. Not yet.”
I nod quickly, not wanting her to think I’m assuming anything. “Of course. I understand.”
“But,” she adds, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, “I want to work towards it. Towards trusting you again. Towards us.”
The words send a wave of joy through me so intense it’s almost painful. I reach for her hand, bringing it to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I will spend every day proving to you that your trust isn’t misplaced,” I promise. “However long it takes, whatever you need from me. I’m here.”
“I know you are.” Her smile widens, real and warm. “That’s why I’m here too.”
In this hotel room in Mount Pella, the town where everything fell apart, we’re finding a way to begin putting it back together. Not perfectly, not all at once, but piece by piece. And for the first time in months, I allow myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, we have a future after all.