I ended up outside my childhood home. The house still stood, though empty now. I called Lorie from the curb because sometimes only the person who knew you before the scars can hold what comes after them.
She arrived within ten minutes. One glance at me and she knew something was terribly wrong.
“Part of me wants to hate him,” I admitted after explaining everything. “But another part can’t forget the way he made me feel seen.”
Lorie wrapped her arms around me and said nothing, because nothing would have been enough. Then she drove me back to her apartment.
I spent the night on her couch barely sleeping. By morning, I knew one thing clearly: running from truth had already stolen too much from my life. I wasn’t going to let it steal this decision too.
I dressed in old jeans and a sweater borrowed from Lorie’s closet.
She watched me pull on my shoes. “Are you sure?”
“No,” I admitted. “But I’m going anyway.”
She smiled through wet eyes. “I’m proud of you.”
I walked to Callahan’s apartment because I needed cold air and time to think. Buddy heard me first, his paws scrambling across the floor before I even reached the top stair. The moment I opened the door, he nearly knocked me over with relief.
My husband stood in the kitchen. He turned his head the instant I stepped inside.
“Merry, you came back!”
“How did you know it was me?” I asked.
A sad smile touched his face. “Buddy knew first. My heart knew second.”
He stepped forward carefully, one hand reaching slightly ahead of him. He almost misjudged the rug. Before thinking, I reached out and caught his wrist. Callahan went still beneath my touch. Then, gently, he found my face again.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, Merry.”
The honesty in those words hit harder than any apology ever could.
Then I caught the faint smell of something burning and looked past him toward the stove.
