Page 5 of Love Again

“He didn’t. Really. I know this is hard,” I say.

“Hard? Hard? It’s surreal.”

It’s going to be difficult to move her out of attack mode. I get it. She feels she’s been lied to all this time, and she’s not even sure why or what about.

I know it’s going to sound brutal, but I plunge ahead. “The truth is, I didn’t want to know anything about you, okay? So, no, Keller wasn’t feeding me information. We agreed not to talk about us.”

She seems to make up her mind about something and then folds her arms across her chest. The question, when it finally comes, seems to have been prepared. “Then why are you here?”

What I want to say is, Because I’ve missed you every single day. Because I can’t live in this world without you. Because we are incredible together, and I want you so much.

But those are not the reasons I’m here. I don’t know what to say because I’m not ready to tell her the truth, so my brother offers a half-truth.

“We’ve had some family health issues come up and he needed to come home.”

Suddenly, she relaxes. “Oh, I’m sorry. Okay. Well, that changes things, then.” She glances around, almost embarrassed. “If you aren’t here because of me, that’s different. That’s fine.”

She stops for a moment and takes a good look at both of us again. “I can’t believe this. It’s so weird.”

Despite how awkward this entire conversation is, I have to smile slightly. “The weirdest part was when I called Keller to tell him about you that first day we met. There was a big silence on the phone.”

My brother clears his throat. “As soon as Luke said ‘Devon’ and that you were from the Mid-Coast, I knew it was you. I told him you hated me.” He glances at me for a moment. “We always figured we’d tell you in person, ease you into the idea, but we never got a chance.”

Her next question comes almost as an apology. It’s to both of us, but she’s looking at me. “Does Keller know everything?”

My heart sinks. If there was any chance to make some kind of amends—if I had a shot at redemption—it’s about to evaporate with my answer.

“Yes.”

΅

Devon is silent for nearly an hour, rolling paint and taping corners and ceilings. When I try to help her move sofas or tables away from the walls, she shrugs me off.

Keller has disappeared into his office and left us alone. I don’t want to leave her like this, but I can’t see that I’m any help either.

She’s rolling paint so fast, she’s got little flecks and dots of brick-red paint in her hair and on her shirt and arms.

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” I offer. I feel I need some kind of truce, some olive branch. If it could coil up in a coffee mug, I’d take that.

Silence.

This is what she does when she’s upset. I was always the one who would try to pry her thoughts from her. I was the one who tried to get her to communicate. I was the one who sat on the bed talking while she hid under the covers and then cried later, so relieved she could say what she needed to. I would never stop holding her.

So it’s disconcerting when we both start speaking at the same time.

“How long are you—”

“I’m only here another month.”

Gripping the handle of the roller, she sighs. “A month?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you on loan? I mean, Maine doesn’t really have a high fire-storm season. Not like Colorado.”

“I’m not on loan.”

“Family leave, then? I’m sorry. Is your mom sick?”