Page 71 of Then You Happened
My chest burns. My breath is harder to catch. My heart is pounding in my ears.
“Jack. Son. I need you to come home. There are some things I need to tell you. About your sister and your brother.”
That first phone call my Dad made to me. Who knew it would be the one that would start this whole goddamn ball to roll down the hill and lead me here?
My muscles scream with an ache that can’t even begin to rival the one in my chest or the emotions I felt—still feel—after all was said and done.
The need to outrun or outdo the memory of that day is still burning strong.
But it’s the guilt that eats at me. Why I felt it then and why I couldn’t give a fuck less about it now.
“Jack-Jack . . . I’m so sorry. Dad died.”
My arms falter on the pull-up. My strength wanes as I am hit with the emotions of that day. I’d been in the airport, rushing to get home, with my phone to my ear in the middle of hundreds of people trying to get somewhere and feeling as if I were lost.
It was as if I had lost something I hadn’t realized I needed.
All the hatred I held on to was gone.
All the rebellion had no purpose.
All the love I felt for him would never be known.
At least I had the chance to though.
At least I was given that.
21
TATE
I hate that I wait for the sound of his engine and that I expect to see his truck’s headlights flash through my bedroom window as he heads to the bar.
I hate that I wish he would have stayed tonight and that he was probably right. We’re adults who work together and need to keep working together. We won’t be able to do that unless we are on sure footing despite the desire still burning beneath the surface.
I love that, even as the night burns into the morning, his truck never starts. Its lights never cause shadows to dance over my walls.
I love that, for the first time since Jack has come here, he doesn’t go to the bar.
As I sink into sheets that used to smell of my husband, I replay the events of the night and dream of another man instead.
And I’m okay with that.
22
TATE
“You needed to talk about schedules?” I ask when I enter the stable. The butterflies that have been flittering with anticipation of seeing Jack again are in full flight.
When he looks over to me from where he’s teaching Will something, I know he feels the same way I do.
Unsated.
Satisfied.
Wanting more.
So many contradictions at the same time.
