“Right,” he says, nodding once. Too quickly. “Yeah. Of course.”
He tries to recover—God, he tries—but I know him. I always knew him.
I reach out, resting my hand on his shoulder.
“Thanks for inviting me,” I say softly. “And for letting me say goodbye.”
My fingers press just slightly. And for a second?—
We just look at each other, and I lose myself in his blue eyes. There’s too much there. Too many years and too many almosts.
“Let me walk you out,” he says. It’s not a question, and I’m glad for even a moment more at his side. Another few memories to treasure and torment me. But God, I want to squeeze every last drop out of these moments with him.
I nod because I can’t trust myself to speak. We move side by side toward the front door, and each step feels heavier than the last. Oh God, why does it feel like I’m making a mistake again?
Like I’m walking away from something I never really let myself have?—
Panic creeps in, sharp and unexpected.
This is it.
This is the last moment.
I have to go back.
Back to Z and the life Ichose.
Back to my son. No matter how tempting everything I lost ten years ago, my son is all that matters.
And Caleb?—
God—
Caleb will always just have to stay awhat-if. I can’t come back here and land in his life like the wrecking ball I was last time. He has a good life here with friends who take care of him. One day, he’ll fall in love and have fat-faced little babies of his own.
I suck in a breath that doesn’t quite fill my lungs.
Keep moving.
Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop moving.
But then?—
Right as we pass the foyer by the stairs that I used to jog up every day on the way to my bedroom beside Caleb’s, I pause at a display of photos set up for the celebration of life.
Photos I’ve never seen before. I slow down to look, even knowing as I’m doing it that I’m just stalling. I lean in to examine the details of each photo of Helen in her prime, grinning at the camera.
“She was so beautiful,” I murmur, stepping closer.
Helen glows out from every frame—laughing and alive in a way that hurts to look at.
There are photos of parties. Of quiet moments between her and Silas, and of a life that feels so full it almost aches.
And then?—
My gaze catches and I freeze. My heart stops.
Because right beside all the other snapshots is a picture of Helen with an arm around a small child who looks exactly like…