The Ruins

Chapter 9

NINE

HARPER

Everything is creepily similar to the how I remember it.

Okay, the trees lining the road up to the house are taller. They’ve grown in the ten years since I was last here. But the way they line the street in such neat little rows, like something out of a movie? It’s the same as I remember from that first fall when I got here, hating the world.

God, I was such an angry kid back then.

It makes me think of Bruiser and my chest tightens. Yeah, Z and I might be dating again, but if we don’t get back together, he’ll be from a broken home. Will he end up raging at the whole world like I did by the time he’s a teenager?

He’s such a good kid right now. He does math problems on the weekend for fun. That’s clearly from Z’s side of the DNA. Z always made better grades than me, at least when he showed up to class.

By the time I get close to Helen’s house, the road is lined with parked cars. Of course, the memorial is packed. Everyone loved Helen. Even a decade later, everyone’s coming out to remember her and celebrate the life she lived.

I swallow hard as I park two streets down around the corner and get out to walk to the house I remember so well. It makes me a little late, but it’s not like I wanted to get there early.

My plan is just to slip into the back, not talk to anyone, hopefully not be noticed, and disappear just as quickly.

Liar.

Okay, fine.

I want to see him. Talking to Ximena has at least forced me to be honest with myself about that.

I’m a double liar—not telling Z about coming up here, and lying to myself about not wanting to see Caleb.

It’s not like I have feelings for him after all this time. I’m a mother, for Christ’s sake. I’ve moved on from a high school crush on a boy I knew for barely six months.

I’m sure I barely knew him, really. I certainly didn’t know myself yet. I was a confused ball of rage and hormones, and he was… there. I’m old enough to realize that teenage love is rarely the epic kind.

But Caleb still deserves an apology for the way I left.

No matter how short our time was, it’s a searing regret I’ve had all these years. That and not getting to say goodbye to Helen before she passed.

She might not have wanted me in Caleb’s life at the end, but that was understandable.

I’d come in and ruined so much for him. For all I know, it might have just been a bad response to the chemo that had her asking me to stay away after learning I’d been sleeping with her son under her roof.

God, it must have felt like such a betrayal after all her kindness to me.

I feel a little sick to my stomach thinking about it. The woman had terminal cancer, and I’d sat there and smiled to her face all the while…

I stop mid-stride, which just happens to be right at the front yard of Helen’s house. Where I guess Caleb still lives. Silas said the memorial was being held at the old house.

Oh my God, what am I doing?

I shouldn’t have come.

I should turn back right now.

This was a stupid, selfish idea.

Caleb probably has a new wife and a passel of kids by now.

I forced myself never to look him up on social media.

Okay, that’s another lie. Some lonely nights, after a few glasses of wine, I went hunting online.

I could never find anything beyond a basic website for the Dungeon he took over for Dad, though.

And the site is super discreet. Caleb is essentially a ghost online.

“Are you here for the memorial?” comes a voice from behind me as strains of music waft over the fence from the backyard.

I swing around to see a beautiful redheaded woman cradling a baby beside a giant of a man. I nod furiously because I don’t know why else I’d be standing in front of Helen’s yard looking longingly up at the house.

“Come on, then,” the woman smiles brightly. “This one made us late.” She jerks a thumb over her shoulder.

The man rolls his eyes good-naturedly and takes the baby from her.

“Did you know Helen?” she asks, smiling in a friendly way.

Uh oh. I wasn’t supposed to be noticed by anyone. Or answer questions from too-nice fellow memorial-goers. Time to shut this down.

“A little,” I say with a small shrug.

“Through her work at the community center? Caleb always talks about Helen so much. I wish I could have met her.”

So these people are Caleb’s friends. I just nod again as I follow them toward the gate to the backyard.

They’ve clearly been here before. Probably for backyard barbecues. They look rich. Did they meet at baby daycare? Does Caleb have an equally beautiful wife I’m about to see hovering around him, holding an equally beautiful baby?

It’s a stupid thought. Absolutely ridiculous.

God, I really shouldn’t have come.

But it’s too late now. I’m being shepherded along by the lovely redhead wearing Prada, and it would be socially awkward to break away and sprint back toward my car.

Still, everything in me starts to absolutely panic as I walk through the gate into the backyard I still remember with creepy precision even after all these years.

My eyes lift to the balcony where I used to smoke and stare out so many nights, dreaming of a future that’s turned out so different from everything I imagined.

And then my eyes land on—

Him.

Caleb.

Ten years vanish in a single heartbeat.

He’s standing near the lectern on a raised platform that’s been set up, talking to a priest. I stop breathing.

He’s taller. Broader through the shoulders in a way that makes the perfectly tailored black suit look like it was made for him. Which it probably was. His hair is the same dark shade, but shorter now, styled in a way that screams expensive barbershop instead of the DIY cuts Helen used to give him.

But it’s his face that guts me.

He’s got that same sharp jawline and serious mouth. He’s older, yes—there are lines at the corners of his eyes that weren’t there before, and a gravity to his expression that makes him look like he carries the weight of the world.

It looks good on him. Damn good.

And then he turns.

Our eyes meet across the backyard full of people.

The world tilts sideways.

His face—God, his face goes completely blank for half a second, like his brain just short-circuited. Then something flickers across his expression so fast that I almost miss it. Shock. Recognition. Something that looks almost like pain.

His mouth opens slightly. I see him form my name without sound.

Harper.

My heart is busy trying to beat its way out of my fucking chest. I can’t move. Can’t breathe. Can’t do anything but stand there like an idiot while every single lie I told myself on the drive up here combusts in the space between us.

I barely knew him.

Bullshit.

It was just a teenage crush.

Fucking liar.

I won’t be affected by seeing him after all this time.

I’m fucked. So completely fucked.

Because the way I feel right now, staring at Caleb Graham across Helen’s backyard—it’s everything. It’s the ground dropping out from under me. It’s ten years of thoroughly constructed defenses crumbling to dust.

It’s the absolute certainty that I never got over him, not even a little bit, and the knowledge that coming here is the single stupidest decision I’ve ever made.

And I’ve made a lot of stupid decisions.

Someone touches his arm—the priest, saying something—and Caleb jerks his attention away from me. But I see his hand come up to grip the back of his neck and how his chest rises and falls too fast.

He’s as wrecked as I am.

Realizing that makes everything worse.

I need to sit down. I need to get the fuck out of here. I need—

“You okay?” the redhead asks, and I realize I’ve just been standing frozen in the middle of the lawn like a complete psycho.

“Fine,” I manage, my voice coming out strangled. “Just—need to find a seat.”

I panic and dive for a chair in the very back row, as far from the front as I can get. I duck my head and let my hair fall forward to hide my face.

Stupid. It’s not like he didn’t already see you. I can’t un-ring this bell.

My hands are shaking. I clasp them together in my lap, staring at my knees.

This was a mistake. Such a massive, catastrophic mistake.

I should leave. Right now. Just get up and walk out before this gets any worse.

But then Caleb steps up to the lectern, and his voice—his voice—rings out across the backyard, and I’m frozen in place all over again.

“Thank you for gathering here to remember one of the most special people to ever walk this earth.”

His voice is deeper than I remember. Richer. But it still has that same careful precision, like every word is measured before it’s spoken.

“I’m sure everyone thinks that about their mother—”

Yeah. Not so much. I don’t know if Darlene’s alive or dead. Uncharitably, I like to imagine the latter.

“—but I like to think that everyone who crossed her path felt a little lighter for the encounter. She was generous and loving, and there were times that bad people took advantage of that kindness.”

Is he talking about me? My stomach twists.

“But as some of you who were her friends know, she learned to stand up for herself and fight back. And that strength helped me learn to be strong, too.”

His voice catches. Just slightly. But I hear it.

“It also made me want to take care of her so she never had to face anything else bad in this world. Of course, I couldn’t protect her in the end—”

He breaks off completely. The silence stretches.

I look up without meaning to, peering through the gap between the people in front of me.

Caleb’s head is bowed. His hand comes up to his face.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and his voice is wrecked. Absolutely wrecked. “I knew I wouldn’t be able to make it through this.”

He clears his throat.

My own chest goes tight, my eyes burning.

This is Caleb Graham. The boy who used to count to calm himself down. Who checked and rechecked and triple-checked everything and held himself together with such rigid control I used to wonder if he’d shatter if he ever let go.

And now he’s standing in front of everyone he knows, struggling for words and vulnerable in a way he never used to let himself be in public.

“I don’t know why bad things happen to good people,” he continues, voice choked. “I’ve never gotten an answer from God about that one.”

He looks toward the young priest in the front row, who returns a compassionate look.

“But I know that her presence, as long as we all had it, was a grace none of us deserved. And that she made us better just—”

He crumples the paper in his hand, unable to look at the crowd.

“—just for knowing her.”

The last words come out broken.

My face is wet. I’m crying and I didn’t even realize it.

This isn’t the Caleb I knew. That Caleb would have practiced this speech a hundred times, had every word memorized, and would’ve held himself together through sheer force of will even if it killed him.

This Caleb is... different. Changed. Grown-up and a little harder in a way that makes my chest ache.

He walks off the platform, and I watch him disappear into the crowd, his shoulders still shaking.

Ten years. Ten years and he’s a completely different person. Or maybe—maybe he’s finally the person he always should have been.

One by one, Helen’s friends come up to share stories. From the community center where she volunteered. From the BDSM club she and Silas owned together. From the library. Each story is funny or sad or moving. It’s an open mic of love for Helen as people come up one after another.

I should be listening and soaking in these stories about the woman who changed my life.

But I can’t stop searching the crowd for him.

From the back row, I can only catch glimpses of his dark hair and the line of his shoulders, or the way he stands with his hands in his pockets now, head bowed.

The priest comes back to the lectern. “Does anyone else have a story to share about Helen? All are welcome. Please come share.”

And I don’t know what possesses me.

Maybe it’s the grief sitting heavy in my chest. Maybe it was the look on Caleb’s face when he saw me. Maybe it’s ten years of regret finally boiling over.

But I get to my feet.

I stare at the ground as I walk down the center aisle of chairs set up in the grass, my heart pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears.

I hear Caleb’s sharp inhale as I pass, so I know exactly when he realizes it’s me walking toward the platform. I feel his eyes on me like a physical touch.

Oh Jesus, oh Jesus, what the fuck am I doing?

But this is what I came here for, isn’t it?

I step up onto the deck—the same deck where I used to sit with Helen and drink tea. It’s where she taught me how to French braid my hair. Where she told me I was smart enough for college if I wanted it—and my knees nearly give out.

Just talk. Just fucking talk, say your goodbyes, and get it over with. Then you can flee back to the car with the closure you wanted, and this chapter can finally be done.

“I didn’t know Helen for long,” I start, my voice wobbling. I clear my throat, but it still sounds wrecked. “But the six months I spent with her were at a really pivotal time in my life.”

I can feel Caleb’s stare burning into me.

Can’t look at him. Can’t.

“I was, um—” I swallow hard. “By the end she didn’t like me anymore, but for a really good reason.”

Confused murmurs ripple through the crowd. Who is this girl? What is she talking about?

“But she still changed my life,” I push through. “No one had ever been kind to me like that. Not without wanting something in return. She was the first real mother I ever knew. I never knew a mom could be like that and—”

My voice cracks.

Everyone’s staring. Looking confused. Probably wondering who the hell I am and what the fuck I’m talking about.

I shrink into myself.

“Anyway, I never got to tell her goodbye. So I just wanted to say...”

I suck in a huge breath and look up at the sky, blinking hard against the tears.

“I loved you, Helen. You taught me how to be a mother—a gift you couldn’t have known would turn out to mean everything to me. You were the most selfless person I ever met.”

My voice drops to barely a whisper.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”

Then I’m moving. Running. Off the platform, down the aisle, and out through the gate.

I hear someone call my name—his voice, Caleb’s voice—but I don’t stop.

I can’t stop.

Because if I stop, I’ll have to face what I just did. And everything I felt. What seeing him again just confirmed.

I never got over Caleb Graham.

And I have absolutely no idea what the fuck I’m supposed to do about that.