Page 54 of Love, Second Chances and Other Nonsense
For a minute he looks like he might protest but then with a sideways glance at Uncle Peter, he rises slowly, like every movement hurts. “Okay, Caitlin. I’ll go for now.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. He walks to the door, then turns back, his eyes searching my face one last time.
“I won’t give up,” he says. “Not on us.”
Then he’s gone, the door closing behind him with a quiet click that feels like an ending.
Uncle Peter and Aunt Charlene approach cautiously, giving me space to fall apart if I need to. But I don’t. Instead, I feel something settling inside me — a certainty, a rightness I haven’t felt in a long time.
“So,” Uncle Peter says, easing into the chair opposite me. “You want to buy Grandma’s house?”
I nod. “I have a pile of money sitting in savings that was going to pay for a wedding that isn’t happening now. It should be enough for a down-payment and maybe get started on the renovations, too.”
The two of them exchange another look, this one tinged with concern.
“Honey,” Aunt Charlene says gently, “that house needs a lot of work. More than you might realize. The electric is wonky, the back porch has practically collapsed, and Lord knows what’s living in those walls.”
“I know it’s a project,” I admit. “But it’s one I want to take on. It feels right.”
“We don’t want you getting in over your head,” Uncle Peter says. “That place could become a money pit if you’re not careful.”
I understand their concern. It’s what my family does; they worry, they protect, they try to save you from yourself sometimes. But they also listen, really listen, in a way Adam’s family doesn’t.
“What if we made a deal?” he suggests after a moment’s thought. “You work on the house with us for six months. If it doesn’t prove to be more than you can handle in that time, we’ll sell it to you. If it does…” He shrugs. “Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“That sounds fair,” I say, feeling a smile spread across my face. “Six months. Starting now.”
Aunt Charlene laughs warmly. “Well, not right this second. Why don’t we call Rachel and tell her to get over here, and we’ll celebrate with a nice dinner?” She pulls me to her for a hug.
As I hug her back, I feel something unfurling inside me: hope, possibility, a future I’m building for myself rather than trying to fit into someone else’s vision. I miss Adam fiercely, and I know part of me will always love him. But I have to move forward now. Adam made his choices, and now I’m making mine.
And standing here in my aunt and uncle’s living room, surrounded by people who love and cherish me, I finally feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
17
Chapter 17
Adam
The familiar streets of Mount Pella blur past me. The fading light casts long shadows, the gray sky matching my mood. My eyelids droop, feeling a dull throb in my temples from the sleepless nights that have been piling up since the day I boarded that damn ship. The hollow ache in my chest gnaws at me. During the day I can throw myself into work and distract myself, but the quiet of my apartment at night only drives home this inescapable truth: Caitlin is gone, and she isn’t coming back. She made that crystal clear when she refused to see me after that first day at her aunt and uncle’s house. I’d lingered in Cedar City like a ghost, calling, texting, even showing up at her family’s restaurant where she’d started working, only to be firmly turned away each time. Eventually, her uncle Peter had approached me outside my motel room, his voice gentle but his eyes hard. “Son, it’s time for you to go home. She’s made her decision.” And sohere I am, back in the life I chose over her, wondering how I’m going to survive without her by my side.
It feels like the trap that’s been slowly closing since high school has finally snapped shut, with me firmly in its grasp. Stay here, the voices say. Run your father’s business. Marry Millie. Be the man everyone expects you to be. You have responsibilities. I crank up the radio, hoping to drown out my thoughts, but my mind keeps replaying that moment in her aunt and uncle’s living room, Caitlin’s voice steady and sure: “What we had is over. It’s done.”
I’d heard the words, but some stubborn part of me refused to believe them. Even now, I keep checking my phone at stoplights, hoping to see her name on my screen. But there’s nothing from her, just an ever-growing stack of notifications from my mother, from Hailey, from Rhonda, from Millie. All the people I prioritized over the one person who actually mattered.
By the time I pull into the parking lot of my apartment complex, my phone has buzzed at least fifteen more times. I ignore it, dragging myself up the stairs. The apartment feels empty in a way it never did before, even when Caitlin was at work and I was alone. Her absence is palpable, almost like a presence in itself. I drop my bag by the door and stand in the middle of the living room. Everything in here reminds me of her. Her favorite throw blanket still sits on the recliner where she’d curl up at night to read her Kindle. I know if I pick it up, I’ll still smell her perfume on it. The table I gave her in Colorado still holds pride of place in our small living room. The potted herbs she’d used in her cooking sit on the kitchen counter, still alive despite my neglect. The flowers I bought her the day before I left for Miami are still in a vase on the kitchen table, the dead leaves and petals covering the table.
I pick up the framed photo of us in Colorado that she’d left behind. We look so happy, sun-kissed and grinning, themountains rising behind us. I’d felt invincible that day, like I could take on anything with her by my side. Now I just feel hollow, my chest a cave that echoes with my every heartbeat. I’ve taken to carrying the picture around the apartment when I’m home, wishing desperately I could wind back time, go back to that moment and cherish her the way I should have.
My phone buzzes again, persistent as a mosquito. Finally, I pull it out and see six missed calls from my mother, three from Hailey, and four from Millie. There are voicemails too, and texts that I can see snippets of:
From Mom:Adam, call me back. I’m worried about you. We need to talk about…
From Hailey:Millie’s really upset. Can you just call her? She’s been crying all…
From Millie:I know you’re hurting, but I’m here for you. I always have been. Let me…
I delete them all without listening or reading further. I know exactly what they’ll say; that I’m better off without Caitlin, that she was never right for me, that now I can move on to the life they had planned for me all along. The thought makes me nauseous.
