It wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
But it was something he could control. Something concrete he could do to stop adding to the harm.
Dean looked out the window at the city below. Somewhere out there, Fiona was probably grading papers or planning lessons or posting something kind on her own account. Building something beautiful from the ashes of what he'd destroyed.
Dean pulledthe notepad from his desk drawer. The short list he'd made:
Things Fiona Cares About:
Her classroom
Her sister Emma
Her cousin Marcy
Her dignity
His eyes lingered on the first item. Her classroom.
He'd already taken steps to help with that one.
Dean's wrist felt naked without the weight of his watch—the client gift, the one that had cost more than most people made in three months.
Why had he worn that watch when his wife was buying her own whiteboard markers? What sort of a husband had he been?
The check from selling it had been a good start. Enough for new books, supplies, field trips, whatever her students needed. He'd handed it to the school admin with a simple message:For Fiona’s classroom. From an anonymous donor.
Dean looked back at the list.
Emma. Marcy.
What did they need? What did they care about? He knew so little about Fiona's family, really. Had always thought of them asperipheral to their real life in the city. He'd been polite at family gatherings, charming when necessary, but he'd never reallyseenthem.
Emma worked... he tried to remember. Something in healthcare? And she was with Milo, who drove her crazy sometimes but who she clearly loved. Marcy was in a relationship too, with Travis.
He thought about that family video call he'd overheard once, Fiona laughing about something Emma's boyfriend had done. Some small inconsideration that had annoyed Emma.
Maybe there was something there. Maybe he could figure out how to help without inserting himself into their lives.
But how? He couldn't exactly reach out to them directly. Hey, it's Dean, the guy who publicly humiliated your sister for two years. Can I help with anything?
That would go over well.
Fiona wouldn’t hesitate.
She wouldn’t waste time spiraling about how awkward or weird it would be. She wouldn’t talk herself out of it with shame or pride. If someone needed something, if there was even a chance she could help, she’d reach out. Even if it meant looking silly.
She’d done it a dozen times before. Left notes on strangers' windshields when their tires were low. Called grocery stores to track down specific snacks for her students.
Fiona wouldn’t care how it looked.
She’d care that it mattered.
He’d lost Fiona.
But maybe, just maybe, he could become someone she wouldn’t be ashamed to have once loved.
CHAPTER 29
