Shane
My request for a face-to-face meeting with Caleb’s parents didn’t go over well. Not with Travis, or Gavin, or the team they had assembled on my behalf.
And I didn’t care.
If the Branfords didn’t want to talk to me, I could respect that. But in my heart, I knew Delaney was right. I had to try.
So I called the DA’s office myself and asked them to extend the offer. Just the three of us, in a room. No cameras, no attorneys. Just them and me, and a thousand regrets between us.
Travis looked like he was going to have a heart attack when I told him what I’d done, and even worse when I said they had accepted. Gavin just looked resigned. I was escorted to the meeting by a uniformed cop. Travis insisted on going with us, even if he wouldn’t be in the room. Gavin hung back, poring over my case file.
I was nervous. Not because I didn’t know what to say. All I had was the truth. A truth that had weighed on me so heavily for so many years. I was nervous because I would be face-to-face with the pain I’d etched into the Branfords’ faces…I didn’t know if I’d ever recover from that.
My boots thumped along the paved walkway to the prosecutor’s office. We were meeting in a nondescript conference room without two-way mirrors or intercom systems like there had been at the jail. The Branfords were waiting for me, both of them standing against the far wall, putting as much space between us as possible. Travis opened his mouth as if to voice once more his reluctance to leave me alone. I quelled it with one look, closing the door in his face with a decisive click. When I turned back, the Branfords hadn’t moved.
I let out a shaky sigh, eyes darting around the room before settling back on their faces. It had been thirteen years since the accident. Mr. Branford had always been tall and athletic, and he still was. He studied me warily, as if he wasn’t quite sure this was a good idea. Mrs. Branford was heavier than I remembered, with a pinched look to her full face. Her expression was resolute; she wanted to hear what I had to say.
My gait less than steady, I walked to the nearest chair and sat down, hoping they would do the same. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.” They each gave a small nod and I continued. “I’m not here to defend my actions, any of them. Not the accident, or leaving town. I wanted to see you, to offer you answers to all the questions I was too scared to give back then. And to apologize. Caleb was my best friend. My only friend. I loved him like a brother—”
A low whimper escaped from Mrs. Branford, and her husband helped her into a chair. He sat down beside her, one hand on her back, their graying heads close together as he whispered softly, soothingly. Their heartbreak filled the room, rolling from their bent shoulders, crashing into me.
Pain splintered my chest, prying it wide open and letting loose all the emotions and memories I’d kept trapped inside. I didn’t know whether to keep talking, but I did anyway. Words poured out of my throat until it was raw and scratchy. I talked about how it had felt to perform that night and the beer we’d thought we earned for playing our first real show. I told the truth about the accident, and why I left when I did. I talked about the scholarships I funded anonymously for kids with dyslexia, like Caleb had, and the wake-up call I’d had in jail that motivated me to give a significant portion of my earnings to causes Caleb would have supported. But mostly I talked to them about Caleb himself. The stories he told me about them, funny things he said, the hopes and dreams I knew he’d only shared with me. How he gave me the confidence to get on a stage when I could barely handle playing to a few friends in their garage.
As the words poured out of me, a strange thing happened. Caleb came alive again. It was almost as if he were sitting in the room, in a corner just out of view. I could hear his voice in my ears, so clearly. I could see his face, that wide grin of his splitting it in two. The atmosphere changed, became lighter. Like it always did when Caleb was around.
Caleb wasn’t like me. His whole life, he’d known only love. Family dinners, bedtime stories, cheers from the sidelines at every game. He was confident and kind. Not just to me, but to everyone. I was the misfit. Caleb was the kid everyone liked.
One hour became two, and the Branfords didn’t utter a single word. When finally there wasn’t anything left to say, when every memory had been taken out, dusted off and given life, I scrubbed a palm over my face, readying myself for a verbal assault.
But none came. I looked back and forth between their faces, searching for something to tell me whether to stay or go. Their tears had dried, and I’d caught a few smiles while I talked, even one or two soggy laughs. I wiped my hands on my jeans, feeling almost reluctant to leave. Not just because of the Branfords, but because in this room I’d felt a sliver of forgiveness. From Caleb.
I stood up, feeling completely gutted, but lighter than I’d felt since the accident.
I was halfway to the door when I heard Mr. Branford clear his throat. “Caleb looked up to you. He always said you would be famous one day. I guess he was right.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, but I turned, meeting his sad stare head-on. A deep sigh rattled from his lungs. “Thank you for coming here, for sharing your memories of our son, and for the good you’ve done these past years. Caleb would be proud.”
Recalling my initial reluctance to reach out to the Branfords, I nearly choked on the shame rising in my throat. My head tipped forward in a dejected nod. I didn’t deserve their leniency, not when I should have made this effort years ago.
But no matter what happened with my case, I resolved to spend the rest of my life proving him right.
* * *
“Let’s sit down. I want you to tell us everything.” Travis’s bullying tone grated on my nerves as we got back to the house. The last thing I wanted to do was share anything about my conversation with the Branfords, let alone everything. But Gavin was there, too, and even Delaney was waiting in the dining room. Of all the people gathered in the room, she mattered the most. I walked to her, pulling her to my chest and leaning over to kiss her head, breathing in the citrus notes of her shampoo.
“You were right,” I whispered to her. “I needed to do that. For them, and for me.”
“Piper,” Travis suddenly boomed, pointing at her. “Turn up the TV!”
We all swiveled to the flat-screen that had been set up on the buffet. Anxiety squeezed my chest as the local news cut to a shot of the Branfords in front of the brick office building where I had just met with them. They were no match for the horde of reporters pressing in on them as they walked to the parking lot. The police were so busy they couldn’t have bothered to escort Caleb’s parents to their car? Anger sizzled along the back of my neck as Piper pointed the remote control, increasing the volume to deafening levels.
“What were you doing at the courthouse?”
“Do you want Shane Hawthorne to spend the rest of his life in jail?”
“Have you spoken with Shane?”
“Do you blame Shane for the death of your son?”
The Branfords flinched with each question, reporters dogging their steps. Caleb’s father stopped as he fished in his pocket for his keys. He unlocked the car, opening his wife’s door and helping her in before rounding the hood. Before opening his own door, he paused. “No. We don’t blame Sean for the accident. We weren’t sure what to think after he left, when he disappeared all those years ago. But after speaking with him just now, and after praying and searching our hearts for what Caleb would want, we’d like the district attorney to drop the charges.” His head hung low, voice thick with exhaustion and grief. “Now, please, leave us alone.”
They didn’t, though, shouting out more questions as Mr. Branford opened the car door and slid behind the wheel. The cameraman must have edged in closer, because I could see inside the car as the Branfords turned to each other, resignation etched into their weathered skin.
I choked on a breath. They shouldn’t have to defend me. Not that I wasn’t grateful. Knowing the Branfords no longer blamed me for the accident…it was like a huge weight that had been digging into my shoulders for years suddenly eased.
The screen cut to a news desk, a talking head dissecting my case with a cheerful smile on her face. “Come on.” I tugged at Delaney’s hand, my stomach churning. “I can’t watch this.”
Travis was rooted to the floor next to me, the light from the chandelier reflecting off his scalp. Completely oblivious. “Jesus Christ, you are fucking brilliant!” He slapped my back, eyes still trained on the TV. “My guess, we’ll be out of here by the end of the week.”
With my fingers rolled into fists at my sides to keep from throttling him, I trudged up the stairs, Travis’s excitement making my stomach turn. Talking to the Branfords hadn’t been about getting off.
It had been about getting real.
Delaney’s hand was comfortingly warm in mine as I opened the door to our temporary bedroom, although I was anything but comforted.
She closed the door softly behind us, a hopeful smile fluttering onto her face. “I’m proud of you.”
Pain shot through me. There was nothing about me to be proud of. She lifted her hand to slide around my neck, and I winced. “Don’t.”
Delaney stilled, her eyes searching mine. Thinking. And then she lifted onto her toes and planted a feather-soft kiss on my lips.
I was rooted in place by the rush of guilt filling me like a broken faucet. There was no turning it off and no wrench in sight. “Delaney,” I groaned, sucking in a breath as her sweetness rocketed through my lungs.
Delaney pulled back, looking at me as if she saw someone who actually mattered, someone worthy of her love. “I’m here, Shane. I’m right here.”
She was wearing a casual pink and white dress, and a pair of wedges with straps that wound halfway up her toned calves. She should have had a backpack slung over her shoulder with nothing more to worry about than whether or not the others in her study group were pulling their weight.
I threaded my fingers possessively through the crown of raven strands framing Delaney’s softly rounded face, blue overtaking green until her eyes were the same color as the sapphire at her throat. The stone I’d put there.
Encircling Delaney’s neck, I felt for the beat of her pulse beneath my fingers. It was racing.
Our bodies fit together like a preschool puzzle, shapes sliding into each other with ease, not needing to interlock. Not yet. The top of Delaney’s head fit perfectly beneath my chin, and I kissed the fine line where her pale scalp shone through, reaching for the metal tab of her zipper. Its low whine split the air as I traced her spine, the pads of my fingers skimming the surface of her skin.
I shuddered as a wave of desire coursed through me. My hunger for Delaney was more than lust. It was need—in its purest form.
And I was scared to need her.
I groaned her name. “The first time I saw you, it took everything I had not to kiss you. And when I heard you singing my song, it took everything I had not to run away from you.”
“And now,” she prompted, her voice breathless and enticing. “What do you want to do with me now?”
“Baby, I’ve already given you every piece of me.” I dropped my forehead to hers, cupping her gorgeous face within my palms, feeling as if I’d been stripped bare. “You have it all.”
Delaney wound her legs around my hips, pulling me in tight, tighter. “I’ll take good care of you. I promise.”
I let myself sink into her sweetness, drown in the comfort and compassion she gave so freely. Silently swearing that I’d never let her go.
Delaney
A storm was brewing. The night sky hung low, weighted down by bloated purple clouds that had blocked the sun for most of the afternoon, stubbornly refusing to release their liquid burden. In the distance I could hear a low rumble of thunder, energy crackling through the air and sending the hair on the back of my neck shooting straight up.
Shane and I had spent hours talking after coming upstairs. Someone must have ordered pizza, because the smell of grease and garlic came wafting beneath the closed door. Neither of us was hungry though. He told me about his conversation with the Branfords. Or rather, what he’d told them. What it had been like, seeing their faces after so many years, and how the energy in the room changed once he began talking about Caleb.
With a monitoring device on his ankle and the threat of a prison sentence hanging over his head, Shane held me tightly as we listened to the drone of multiple, overlapping conversations from downstairs. Waiting. Wondering if the Branfords’ statement to the press meant anything at all.
I had questions of my own, too. Ones I didn’t dare voice.
Who was I to tell Shane to come clean to anyone when I was still keeping secrets from everyone? How could I absolve him of his guilt while I was still carrying my own?
Would Shane wind up in jail when the person who really deserved to be behind bars—me—wasn’t even allowed to visit?
Part of me wished I’d never met Shane. That I could go back being to the girl who had bundled up a riot of volatile emotions into a fat, misshapen lump and then pushed it so far, so deep, it sat like a rock in the pit of her stomach.
I couldn’t though. That girl was gone.
I was someone different now.
Shane had turned my life upside down, and the bundle had come loose. Unfurled completely. And now I couldn’t figure out how to wrap them all up again. Fear. Guilt. Grief. Shame. Emotions that were too big, too unruly. Trampling all over my conscience with wild abandon, not caring about the mess they left in their wake.
Shane’s breath fanned my ear, becoming deep and regular even as his hand remained wrapped around my waist with possessive pressure. He didn’t have to worry. I wasn’t going anywhere. Not yet, anyway. My hands fisted the edge of the sheet, drawing it into my chest as I breathed deep. The scent of pinecones and ivory soap and something uniquely Shane—as bracing and clean as the sea—tickled my nose.
Too bad I couldn’t stay wrapped in Shane’s arms forever.
Because the truth wasn’t going away. It was out there, as restless and angry as the lightning I felt in my bones but couldn’t yet see.
They say energy never dies; it just changes form, becomes something else. Believing that had given me some comfort over the past few years. My mom was gone, yes. But I could feel her all around me. She was in the first sip of a glass of good wine, the first bite of chocolate cake. I saw her in sunrises and sunsets, felt her in the warm caress of a breeze across my face on a clear, sunny day. I battled my grief on a daily basis by looking for her in everything good that came my way.
But it was getting harder and harder. I couldn’t just take in good. I needed to do good, too.
Taking care of Shane, loving him from the sidelines, wasn’t enough. My soul sagged with the weight of the promise I’d made my father.
Stay silent.
Let me do the talking.
Follow my lead.
Staying silent wasn’t easy when the truth was eating me up inside.
Staying silent was too big a burden. And yet if I let it go, if I told the truth, if I accepted responsibility for what I’d done…I was scared my father would never forgive me. Scared those little glimpses of my mother would disappear.
And Shane…What would he think of me if he knew I committed the same sin he had? Would he hate me as much as he hated himself? Would he think of me the same way he did Sean Sutter, the misfit he’d spent more than a decade trying to erase?
If our situations were reversed, would I really want Shane to visit me in prison? Posing for selfies with guards, signing autographs for inmates.
Could I burden him with the weight of my sins?
I’d had my chance. So many chances, actually, to tell him the truth. And I had run away from every single one of them.
My mind was tripping over itself, trying to come up with a one-size-fits-all solution. And getting nowhere.
Meanwhile, the storm outside moved closer, rumbles of thunder growling ominously as the wind whipped leaves and small pebbles against the glass windows. My heart picked up its pace, and I pressed Shane’s palm to my chest, hoping his steady pressure would calm its skittish beat. Lightning flashed, turning everything in the room bright, a white light the sun could never replicate. I shivered.
BOOM.
The storm arrived, rain pelting the roof directly above our heads. I listened to the howl of the wind, the swell of the rain, feeling something inside me ease. I didn’t have to make any decisions tonight. What was done was done, and it would take a lifetime to chip away at my regret. I needn’t lift the blade tonight, though my time was coming. Even if Shane was absolved of wrongdoing, I couldn’t stay sheltered in his arms forever.
For tonight I would live through this storm. And tomorrow, or the next day, or a day not too long after that, I would face another, one of my own making.
And I would survive that one, too.