“We were never good together, but I wanted to give Zoe the best chance at a normal family, so we tried. And then, one day, she just got up, packed a bag, and told me she didn’t want this life anymore. She left while Zoe was napping. She wasn’t even two.”
A burning sensation settles in my throat, at the simple thought of a parent doing this to their child.
“We’ve been okay, the two of us. It’s a lot, but it’s good.” He wets his lips. “I don’t want to put Zoe through that again. Having her mom, then losing her.”
“Then don’t stop fighting.” I feel the words deep in my chest. That little girl deserves nothing but to feel loved fully and unconditionally.
Eli’s honey gaze slips my way, and with only a look, I know he sees where that resolve comes from. I wouldn’t want anyone to feel the way I did.
“Trust me, I won’t.” A long moment passes when we can’t hear anything but our shared breaths, as if even the ocean and crickets have gone to sleep. His throat works. “But in the meantime, I’m a single dad who’s worried 24/7 and trying to prove that I can do it by myself.”
“Do you have any help?” He mentioned Keira earlier, and while she’s been nothing but a thorn in my side this week, I’m glad she’s there for him.
“Felix and Charlie help when they’re around,” he says. “But Charlie’s in college an hour away and Felix is…not the most reliable. He’s currently off backpacking in South Asia.”
“Wow, I’d forgotten they’re not kids anymore.” His siblings are five and six years younger than me, and while they were often there when I was, they felt like background noise when Eli was my movie soundtrack.
He chuckles. “Yeah, definitely not.”
“What about your parents?”
His face sours, and before he says the words, I know what they will be. I’ve seen grief too many times to mistake it. “Dad passed away six years ago. Another heart attack.” His lips twitch. “Mom’s spending her retirement traveling the world with hermuchyounger boyfriend.”
“Oh God, I’m so sorry. About your dad, I mean. I had no idea.” Mr. Grant was one of the nicest people I met in my life. He never once shunned me for being a McIntyre, and he welcomed me to work with him and Eli in the truck during the summer without ever batting an eye. He knew finding a job in this town was a nightmare for me, and what money I earned from him allowed me to leave when the time came. I was never able to properly thank him for that, and I guess now, I never will. Once again, a sense of dread overwhelms me at the thought that I wasn’t there to give Eli my condolences and support at that time. If I’d kept in contact, Icould’ve been there for him the way he was for me so many times growing up.
“Would’ve been hard to know, since you never called.”
My breath catches, and I know he hears it, because the steel in his face immediately melts; only because he’s Eli, and he’d rather hide all his true feelings than hurt someone else. And the thing is, heshouldwant me to hurt. He’s right. I didn’t call. When I left, I knew it meant I’d leave the best part of this place, too. I couldn’t keep him tethered to me when I would never come back. It wouldn’t be fair to give him a puddle of a relationship when he deserved the entire ocean. We’d ended before we’d had a chance to truly begin, and keeping him from better things by calling him every now and then and reminding him I existed seemed unfair. But I can see now that cutting ties completely could have seemed just as cruel.
I hurt him. The one person who only ever gave me joy. It feels like all I ever do is hurt the people I love.
Suddenly, I’m on my feet, grabbing my purse. I can’t breathe right, and I need air.
“Cassie, wait.” He’s up, too. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine. Really.” The last thing I want him to do is feel bad for telling me the truth. “Thank you for letting me help out tonight.”
I don’t dare another glance before leaving.
Chapter 7
Twelve Years Ago
The boy doesn’t remember a time when his life didn’t begin and end with her.
Or rather, he does, but it feels like an entirely different life. Like he only realized what living meant the moment he met her. It might sound insane, but even at that age, something in his body recognized something in her.Mine,it said.
The girl doesn’t remember the first time they met. She always tells the story of watching him through her grandmother’s window before finally getting the nerve to ask him to play on his trampoline when she was ten and he was eleven, but that wasn’t the first time they crossed paths.
It was an April afternoon, the kind of New England spring day where the hope of spring is crushed by a winter flashback. The boy was outside with his mother, helping her plant the bulbs for the bright yellow flowers she loved to see bloom over the summer, even though they would probably freeze overnight. He didn’t mind the cold, though. Didn’t mind the way he barely felt his fingers anymore. While the inside of their house was always chaotic, with his siblings play-wrestling in the living room and his father playing the radio too loud, the garden with his mother was a safe haven.He felt too old to say he missed spending time with his mother, but here, he could admit it to himself.
Dirt caked his hands and nails as he started digging another hole, but before he could plant the bulb, a rush of color brought his attention to the house next door. A girl was running toward the front porch, wearing tie-dye rain boots and a fuchsia coat. Her hair was wet, as if she’d caught rain along the way. She didn’t stop running as she climbed the stairs and knocked on the door, but no one answered. The lady who lived in the house had left earlier in her car, so no one would. When the girl knocked again and still didn’t get an answer, she didn’t turn around. Didn’t slump in defeat. She just stood there, reactionless.
The boy got to his feet.
“You can go inside if you’re too cold,” his mother said without looking up, but he wasn’t listening to her. He could barely feel the cold anymore. To this day, he doesn’t know what made him keep staring. Maybe it was the fact that the girl was wearing an entire rainbow, yet he’d never seen anyone looking so sad. Actually, sad wasn’t the right term. Looking soempty. Like she didn’t have any sadness to give anymore.
The boy walked over to the neighbor’s lawn, and for a moment, he simply stood there, watching her. She looked to be around his age, maybe a bit younger. From up close, he could see that none of her clothes fit her. The purple jeans were too short, a line of skin exposed at the top of her boots, and the coat was two sizes too big, the sleeves hanging over her hands.
