“You can finally say your goodbye,” he says.
“Okay,” I whisper.
He holds my gaze for one more second—and thenone more—and finally he turns and walks back toward the house.
I stand by my car in the late afternoon light and watch him go and think:I never should have come here.
Still, I follow him.
ELEVEN
HARPER
What the fuckare you doing, Harper?
“I have a kid,” I blurt out as I walk beside my high school boyfriend back toward the house we lived in together. “Z’s kid. We’ve been separated, but we’re… trying again.”
There. I said it.
Caleb’s stride stutters for half a second beside me on the cracked sidewalk leading back up to his house.
The house.
God.
Nothing’s changed.
I was distracted by nerves and the other memorial attendees, but as I look up at it now, I’m rocked by memories.
The house has the same pale siding and crooked mailbox.
Only now cars line the usually quiet street and music thumps from the backyard. Laughter spills over the fence.
A party. Of course it’s a party.
Helen would’ve hated a quiet memorial.
Caleb catches up to me. “Even after what you just learned?”
“It doesn’t work like that.” My voice comes out tight. “He’s Bruiser’s father.”
I don’t miss Caleb swallowing hard. “I’m sure he’s… become a better man.”
Has he?
I nod like I believe it, anyway, because it’s easier than answering.
We step onto the driveway together.
God.
I used to run up this exact stretch of concrete barefoot, laughing, racing Caleb to the front door like the house itself was ours.
Like we had a future here.
“We have more to talk about. Stay tonight,” Caleb says, too casually. “After everything.”
“I—” My voice catches. The music gets louder as we pass the side yard gate. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”