Page 83 of Welcome Home, Katie Gallagher
“Can we wipe the slate clean? Pretend we’re meeting again right now for the first time? As if Pops asked me to chop the wood and I came back that same day to do it?”
“No.”
“Can we call it a wash, then? You broke my heart when I was fourteen. I broke yours at thirty.”
“I thought we agreed I was twenty-five. And what the hell are you talking about? I never broke your heart.” She tucked her hands in her jacket and stamped her feet, confusion clear.
“That last summer you visited. It took me nine summers to work up my nerve. I finally approached you to ask you to the bonfire. You turned away from me and laughed, said I was a little kid.” I leaned on the axe, trying to read her face.
“I did not! I would never do that!”
“Except you did.”
Spinning, she stomped to the back door, muttering under her breath. She turned back, arms crossed tightly. “I have no memory of this. None. Are you sure it was me?”
I explained the whole encounter, what was said, what she wore. She gazed off into the night, confusion obvious. When her face cleared, she said, “Are you shitting me? I was talking to Daisy about her little brother, her six-year-old little brother who said he wanted to marry me. I never even saw you!”
She moved away again but stopped. “And even if I had done that, what the hell, dude? What’s the statute of limitations on hurting your feelings? I was fifteen. Are you such a petty man-child that you’d nurse that hurt for fifteen years? Holy crap! If that’s the case, you’ll never get over being dumped at the altar.”
My chest hurt.
“Leave. Don’t make me call another cop to arrest you.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kate
I closed and locked the door, then switched off the lights. When I heard his truck pull away, I walked through the house and stepped out to the front porch. The night was cold and clear, stars blazed in the sky, surf pounded in the distance. It should have been beautiful. I sat down heavily on the top step, the will to move draining out of me.
Chaucer lay down next to me, leaning into my side. I wove my fingers through his fur. “Who does that? Who gets all sweet and romantic, making a person think she’s understood and cared for, and then dumps her, citing an imagined slight from childhood? Men suck.”
I rested my temple on the top of his head. “I thought I loved him, Chaucer.” I remembered Aiden’s arms around me, the tenderness in his eyes, the kisses he trailed down my neck. No. I clenched my fingers in Chaucer’s fur. I wasn’t going to think about that jackhole anymore. He made his choice. He chose his hurt over me. I wanted to sob. Instead, I stood and walked back into the house, locking the door behind me.
I climbed the stairs. “I got rid of two men in one day. At least I’m becoming more efficient.”
After he dropped me off, Bear talked to Connor about the Bronco sitting out in front of his house. Connor didn’t drive anymore. He tried to give it to me, but I said it was only a loan. And then thanked him profusely. At least I had a ride now that fit Chaucer and me.
I walked into the bedroom, Chaucer following me. “Our lives are filled with good things.” I hugged my baby. “Let’s get some shut-eye. Lots to do tomorrow!”
When I turned out the light and climbed into bed, the tears finally came. Hidden in the dark, I allowed myself to mourn for what could have been. I loved him, but I’d get over it. Eventually.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Aiden
The guilt was crushing. I drove along the dark, cliffside road where I’d found her weeks ago, sitting in her car, unsure of what to do. Pulling over into the exact spot she’d stopped, I followed her lead and reflected on my choices. I’d taken a woman who’d been cheated on, stripped of money and communications, struggling to live in a house I’d let fall to seed, and I’d decided she had it a little too good.
I couldn’t remember ever feeling this level of shame. I liked thinking of myself in heroic terms, the way Katie had described me to Pops. She was right, though, what she said today. Being heroic when there was little cost to you isn’t heroic. As soon as my heart was on the line, I turned cowardly. My chest constricted. I was a bitter, lonely coward. But I didn’t want to be. I wanted to be the hero she deserved.
I drove to Pops’s place. He’d been trying to give me relationship advice for years, and I’d been brushing him off. I was an idiot. He and Grandma had been married for forty years. Happily, lovingly married for forty years. He grieved her passing, his heart broken, but he never wallowed in the pain, didn’t blame the world. He eventually fell in love again and had another wonderful relationship. I should have been taking notes.
The lights were on, but Pops may have fallen asleep in front of the TV. I’d raised my hand to knock when he opened the door.
“What’s the matter?”
“Why would you think?—”
He waved me in. “You wouldn’t be showing up unannounced this late for a chat. So, what’s the matter?”
