Page 68 of Love, Second Chances and Other Nonsense
I nod, not trusting myself to speak without crying. I watch him drive away, the dust from the gravel settling in his wake, before getting into my own car. The Toyota starts obediently, its predictable reliability suddenly a comfort in a world where everything else seems to be falling apart.
As I drive back toward town, and the townhouse I share with Rachel, I can’t stop the tears from finally spilling over. I wanted so badly for something to work out, for some part of my life to be under control. But the house is a disaster, the restaurant is failing, and I’m still waking up in the middle of the night reaching for someone who isn’t there.
I pull over to the side of the road, unable to see through my tears. Pressing my forehead against the steering wheel, I allow myself a moment of complete despair. Five minutes, I tell myself. Five minutes to fall apart, and then I have to pull it together.
The timer on my phone beeps, signaling the end of my allotted breakdown. I wipe my eyes, blow my nose, and put the car back in drive. Whatever happens with the house, with the restaurant, with my heart, I’ll face it. I have to. There’s no going back to Iowa, to Adam, to the life I left behind.
The only way is forward, even if I have no idea where that road leads.
* * *
The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across Rachel’s townhouse as I pull into the driveway. My eyes are still puffy from crying, and all I want is to go inside, take a scalding hot shower, and fall face-first into bed. But there’s a figure sitting on the front steps, shoulders hunched, head bent, a silhouette so achingly familiar that my heart stutters in my chest before my brain can catch up. Adam. He stands as I park, hands shoved deep in his pockets, and for a second I consider throwing the car into reverse and driving away. But I’m tired of running. I kill the engine and step out, squaring my shoulders like I’m heading into battle. In a way, I am.
“What are you doing here?” My voice comes out harder than I expected, brittle with the remnants of tears and fresh anger.
Adam takes a half-step toward me, then stops, seemingly sensing the invisible wall I’ve erected between us. He looks different. His hair is longer, curling at the nape of his neck, and there’s more stubble on his face than I’ve ever seen before.There’s something different in his posture too — he’s less rigid, more at ease in his own skin.
“Caitlin,” he says my name like a prayer, like he’s been practicing it. “I needed to see you.”
“You saw me in November,” I snap, clutching my car keys so tightly the metal bites into my palm. “When I made it very clear, I wanted nothing to do with you. You just can’t take a hint, can you?”
A flash of pain crosses his face, but he doesn’t retreat. “I know. I know I should have respected your wishes. But there are things I need to say to you, things you need to know.”
“Like what? That you’re sorry? That you miss me?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Save it, Adam. You should get back to your girlfriend before she gets sad because you’re gone. I’m sure Millie’s having a meltdown and needs support right about now.”
“I’m not dating Millie,” he says quietly. “There’s never been anyone but you.”
“Right,” I scoff, moving toward the steps. He’s blocking my path to the door, and I hate how my body reacts to his proximity — the quickening pulse, the heat rising in my cheeks. “Look, I’ve had a really crappy day, and I’m not in the mood for whatever this is. Just go back to Iowa, Adam.”
“I can’t.” His voice is steady, certain. “I live here now. In Cedar City.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. I stop, staring at him in disbelief. “What?”
“I moved here a week ago,” he continues.
Nothing he’s saying makes sense. “What about Kelley Property Management? Your family? Millie?”
“Lauren owns the business now,” he says, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “She always wanted it, and she’s better at it than I ever was. As for my family…” He takes a deep breath. “Things have changed. A lot.”
I shake my head, trying to clear it. “I don’t understand. Why would you move here? What about your parents? They must be losing their minds.”
“Mom is,” he admits with a slight grimace. “Dad actually understands, I think. He and I had a long talk before I left. He apologized for a lot of things.” Adam runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture I remember all too well. “I owe you more apologies than I could ever say, Caitlin. About my mother, about Millie, about all of it. After you left, I finally stood up to them. I made it clear that I would never be with Millie, that the way they treated you was wrong, and that I wasn’t going to tolerate it anymore.”
“How brave of you,” I say, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice. “Only about a year too late.”
He winces but nods. “I deserve that. I deserve worse, honestly. But I want you to know that I’ve cut them both out of my life — Mom and Millie. I told Mom I didn’t want to see her again for a long time, if ever. And as for Millie,” he pauses and shakes his head. “I never want to see her again. Under any circumstances. I’ve blocked them both on everything.”
Something twists in my chest, painful and sweet at once. I push it away. “So what, you just moved here? Without even asking if I wanted you here?”
“I didn’t come here expecting anything from you,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine. “I came because I couldn’t stay there anymore. Because everything there reminded me of how I failed you, of what I lost, of the mistakes I made. And because…” He hesitates. “Because I needed to tell you that losing you is the greatest regret of my life. Not just because I love you, but because I let you down. When I needed to be your partner, your protector, I was a coward.”
The raw honesty in his voice makes it hard to hold on to my anger, but I cling to it anyway. Anger is safer than the alternative, the hope that’s trying to bloom in my chest.
“So what, you found your balls and suddenly everything’s supposed to be okay?” I demand, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m supposed to forget everything that happened? Forget how humiliated I felt at every family dinner? How alone I was at every party? I worked for days to throw that Halloween party for you and your friends, and you all ignored me. And then you left me on Thanksgiving to go on a cruise with Millie? You think moving to my town fixes any of that?”
“No,” he says simply. “I don’t expect it to fix anything. I don’t expect you to forgive me or to forget. What I did is something I can’t make up for. I can’t go back and erase the last year, no matter how much I wish I could. All I’m hoping for is that maybe someday you might let me be your friend again. And even though I can’t make up for what I did, I’m never going to stop trying.”
I stare at him, searching for any sign that this is just another manipulation, another empty promise. But his eyes are clear and steady, holding mine without flinching.
