Page 107 of Love, Second Chances and Other Nonsense
Something breaks inside me at his words, at the simple kindness in them. My arms come up without my permission, returning the hug briefly before Peter steps back, his hands on my shoulders.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s sit down for a minute.”
We end up on the front porch steps, side by side in the cool night air. I can’t look at him, can’t bear to see the disappointment that must be in his eyes.
“You should be checking on Caitlin,” I say finally, my voice barely audible. “Not me. I’m the one who hurt her.”
“Caitlin’s okay,” Peter says, his voice gentle. “Charlene’s been with her all day. Rachel’s home with her now.” He shifts slightly beside me. “And I can worry about both of you.”
The kindness in his voice nearly undoes me. I don’t deserve this, any of it. “I made her cry,” I say, the words scraping my throat raw. “I promised I wouldn’t hurt her again, and I did.”
“You told her the truth,” Peter corrects me. “That’s not the same thing as hurting her. The truth can be painful, but hiding from it causes more damage in the long run.” He pauses. “Trust me on that.”
I risk a glance at him, finding his face thoughtful in the dim light from the porch. “I don’t understand,” I admit. “Why aren’t you angry with me? Why didn’t you fire me? After what happened yesterday—”
“What happened yesterday,” Peter interrupts gently, “was that you were honest with Caitlin about one of the most painful times in your relationship. And she had a very natural, very human reaction to that honesty.” He sighs, a sound that seems to come from deep within him. “Healing isn’t linear, Adam. It’s messy and painful, and sometimes it feels like you’re going backward instead of forward. But that doesn’t mean it’s not happening.”
I look down at my hands, calloused and scraped from today’s work. “I don’t know if what we have can be healed,” I say quietly. “Maybe it’s too broken. Maybe I broke it beyond repair.”
“That’s not for me to say,” Peter replies. “I’m not here to get in the middle of your relationship. That’s for you and Caitlin to figure out.” He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. “But I will tell you this: continuing to punish yourself for what happened in Mount Pella won’t make it so it never happened. It won’t take away Caitlin’s pain. It won’t fix anything.”
His words hit me like a physical blow, cutting through the fog of self-loathing that’s enveloped me since yesterday. “All I care about now is making Caitlin happy,” I say, and it’s the truth. “Whatever that means.”
“And what about you?” Peter asks quietly. “Don’t you deserve happiness too?”
I laugh, a short, bitter sound. “After what I did? No, not really.”
Peter is quiet for a long moment, his eyes on the night sky above us. “You made bad decisions with your mother and with Millie,” he says finally. “You hurt Caitlin in the process. Those are facts, and I won’t pretend otherwise.” He turns to look at me directly. “But that doesn’t make you a bad man, Adam. It makes you a flawed human being who’s trying to do better. At some point, you need to forgive yourself too.”
His words hang in the air between us, challenging and impossible. I can’t imagine ever forgiving myself for the pain I caused Caitlin. I don’t want to. Forgiving myself feels like letting myself off the hook, like saying what I did wasn’t that bad. And it was that bad. It was worse.
“I know a good therapist,” Peter says, breaking the silence. “Someone who specializes in family trauma, in helping people break unhealthy patterns. I could help you get in contact with him, if you want.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The suggestion surprises me, not because it’s unwelcome, but because it implies a future here, in this town. A future I can’t let myself imagine.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” I say finally, the words hollow even to my own ears.
Peter studies me for a moment, his eyes knowing. “You’re planning to leave, aren’t you? Once the house is finished.”
The accuracy of his guess startles me. “How did you—”
“Because I know what guilt looks like,” he says simply. “And I know what running looks like.” He stands, brushing off his jeans. “Just think about what I said, okay? About forgiveness. About getting help. You deserve to heal too, Adam.” He puts his hand on my shoulder, a brief, warm pressure. “Remember this: it is possible to make the wrong decision for all the right reasons.”
With that, he heads back to his truck, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I watch his taillights disappear down the driveway, his words echoing in my head.
But he’s wrong about one thing. I do know what the right thing to do is in this case. It’s finishing this house perfectly, exactly the way Caitlin wants it. And then it’s removing myself from her life so she can heal properly, without the constant reminder of the man who broke her heart.
I stand and head back inside, picking up my tools with renewed determination. I’ll work through the night if I have to. I’ll pour every ounce of skill and care I possess into this house. It will be my parting gift to her, the only thing of value I have left to give.
And when it’s done, I’ll leave. Despite what Peter says, despite his kindness and his talk of forgiveness, I know the truth: Caitlin deserves better than me. She deserves someone who would never make her cry, never prioritize anyone above her, never fail her the way I did.
39
Chapter 39
Caitlin
The kitchen door is propped open with a paint can to let in the morning breeze, and I step inside without knocking. Adam is on his knees in the dining room, measuring something along the baseboards. He looks up at the sound of my footsteps, and the surprise on his face is unmistakable.
