It’s been two weeks since Colby’s dad’s funeral and she has been MIA. She’s not returning calls and she’s not returning texts. I’ve given her space and time, but she’s scheduled to leave next week for her first truck show and I don’t want her to go without some kind of conversation. My stomach has been in knots I’m so worried about her, worried about us, or at least the us we were becoming.

I’ve been through the same kind of emotional hell of mourning she’s in so I get that pressuring her will do me no good. It’s just difficult when we were working toward something good before all this happened. I know she felt something for me; I could tell in her kiss, in her touch and in her eyes.

I haven’t experienced that since Carol and I were first married. That look and response got lost with Carol when I went off to war. She didn’t recognize the man I’d become to survive and it took me a while to acclimate back to civilian life. Even as close as Carol and I were when she was battling cancer, we were never able to get that little something back that disappeared with me in the rocky mountains of Afghanistan. When I found that with Colby, it was as if my life started again and I’m not willing to let that go without a fight.

I approach the doors as the light turns out in the back office. When I pass through the entrance, the bell chimes, letting whoever is inside know that someone has arrived. Colby’s tired voice sounds ahead of her, coming down the hall. “We’re closed.”

I don’t say anything. I wait to gauge her expression when she sees my face. That will tell me more than anything else, I think.

Colby stops in her tracks as her eyes widen and her mouth opens, like she’s going to say something but isn’t sure what.

“I’ve tried calling. I’ve tried texting. You haven’t dropped by and you haven’t been at home when I’ve gone by.”

“I…”

I take a few steps forward, approaching her like she’s a wounded animal, afraid to spook her. The dark circles under her eyes tell me she’s tired, as if she hasn’t slept for days. Her normally silky hair is frayed a little, like she hasn’t given much of a shit. She’s in worse shape than I expected and all of my instincts scream at me to scoop her up, carry her home, feed her, bathe her and make sure she rests.

“I’m not trying to push and stalk you. I want to help you get through this.”

She shakes her head a little. “I don’t have time to deal with a boyfriend right now. I can’t worry about your needs. I’m trying to figure out how to keep this place from going under, take care of my father’s estate, prepare to leave town, and help my sister heal. I can’t lose her after all of this.”

“What about your brother? Is he helping with any of this?”

“Yes, he’s working seven days a week to get us caught up. Jeff is working as much as he can too, but his family needs him. This is on me.”

“Let me help you. I’m an estate lawyer; I can help take care of some of this.” I plead with her as I close the distance between us and see more fine lines around her red-rimmed eyes than were there a few weeks ago. I physically hurt because of her heartbreak.

“I don’t want or need your help. I’ve gotten our family through worse than this.”

“Everyone needs help sometimes. You don’t have to do this alone. You forget I’ve been through the death of someone I love dearly. I know your pain.”

“You don’t know shit about what I’m going through. Your wife was sick for a really long time. My father was working hard and living life when this happened. It was unexpected and we weren’t even close to ready. So don’t talk to me about understanding. You’ll never understand this. Besides, I’m not sure you ever really let her go. How can you help me when you should be helping yourself?”

I jerk back a little, surprised by her viciousness. Her words hurt, especially about Carol. I buried her several years ago and am long since past it, but I understand that what’s coming from Colby is all from a place of pain. For whatever reason, she’s decided that I’m the one who should get the wrath of her hurt and fear. I wish it were different, that I could change it, but I can’t.

“So you’re going to let something as good as we’ve got go because you’re hurting and too proud to allow me to help?”

She crosses her arms and fidgets a little. She wants to change her mind, but she’s too proud at this point. I stare at her, willing her to understand what a bitch she’s being. If I didn’t get it I would walk out that door and never look back, but I do.

I’ll give her some time and see if that helps. Walking away right now goes against everything I want and believe so I cup her chin and hold tight, but not so much that I’ll hurt her, just to keep her in place. Then I lower my mouth to hers and place a chaste kiss on her lips. As I pull away I pause to look in her eyes. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

A single tear runs down her face and the urge to comfort her becomes too much so I turn and walk out of that shop without looking back. I jump in my car and drive away, pissed that she’s giving up so easily and hurt in the same breath. I have no idea how to fix this and frankly, tonight I’m not in the mood. I press a few buttons on my phone and the ringing sound filters through the speakers in my car.

“What’s up, bro?” Diego asks.

“Fucked-up situation. I need a beer. You got time to meet me?”

“Have you eaten?”

“Nope, don’t need to eat. Just need a drink…or 20,” I reply.

“Fine. Come by my place and pick me up.”

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes,” I say and hit disconnect.

Maybe my best friend can talk me through this. I have no idea what to do at this point. Should I go back to her and try again, or should I give up and let her go? Letting go doesn’t feel right, but I also know I can’t force her.

Half an hour later, Diego and I are sitting at the bar in Hector’s Hacienda. He’s waiting for food while I toss tequila shots down my throat and fill him in.

“You know better than anyone how hard it is to get your life back when someone you love dies. Give her some time. Do you think she’s the one?”

I give him a look like he’s an idiot. “You know we wouldn’t be having this conversation if I didn’t feel that way.”

“Are you sure it’s not because you finally got laid after all this time?”

“I’ve had opportunities to get laid, I just wasn’t interested.”

“So you’re saying you love this woman?”

“Love?”

“Yeah, I didn’t stutter. Love. Do you love her? You said she’s the one. If she’s the one, I’m assuming you love her.”

I sit for a long moment, contemplating his question while he eats his tamales quietly. I don’t know what to say. There are so many things to point at a feeling of love and so much about her to love, but I’ve only ever loved one woman I wasn’t related to and that’s a big thing. At one point a few weeks ago I thought I was falling in love with her, but to hear Diego say it out loud feels…weird. What about Carol? If I say I love Colby, does that mean I can’t love Carol anymore? Sure, she’s gone and never coming back, but I’ve loved her for so long that it seems weird to say I love someone other than her.

Diego wipes his mouth and sets his fork down before turning toward me. “Decide if you love her and that will tell you what to do. If you love her, go back for her. If you don’t, then let her go. Why fight for someone you don’t love? You’ll end up hurting her worse if you help her through this only to put her in the friend zone when it’s done. You also need to figure out if you’re really over Carol.”

“Carol’s been gone several years now. Why would you say that? Colby said something similar tonight.”

Diego pushes his plate away and turns on his barstool to face me. By the set of his jaw I can tell he’s about to get real with me. I know my friend well enough to know that he’s going to say things in a way I need, but probably don’t want to hear. Why did I call him again?

“I love you like a brother. We’ve been friends since we were little kids, but it’s time to get real with you. From the outside looking in, you’re not over Carol.”

“Why would you say that? Why would she say that?” I grit my teeth. It always irritates me when people say shit like this. It doesn’t happen often but it does on occasion and it pisses me off.

“Let’s start with the visits to the cemetery. They are way more frequent than they should be for a man who has moved on. Why do you need to go there every week? She’s not there. You can have the same conversation with her there that you can have in the car or in your house or in your office. She’s gone; you don’t need to go there all the time.”

“I—”

He holds up his hand to stop me. “Let me finish. Why does your house still look like she’ll walk through the door at any minute and resume a life with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Fuck. I hate to be the one to point this out. I was hoping you’d come to these conclusions on your own. The whole house is still covered in pictures of you guys. The décor she used to make your house a home is still there, untouched. The baby’s room is still exactly as she left it.”

“What did you want me to do? Redecorate my house? I’m not a fucking woman. I don’t care what the place looks like. Why would I take the pictures of her down and pack them away? I didn’t stop loving her because she died. Are you saying I should act like she never existed?”

I’m so pissed. What if Claudia died? Would he shove her in a box and pretend it never happened? That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.

“I’m not saying forget her. I’m saying move on. Sell the house that was your home with her. Leave one or two pictures out of her in your new place. Visit the grave once or twice a year. Everything in your life still screams Carol. What did Colby say when she saw your place?”

“She—”

“Don’t blurt out some dumb answer. Think about it. Has she slept over at your place? What was her reaction when she saw the baby’s room?”

I lean back and cross my arms over my chest. I want to be able to tell him he’s making a big deal out of nothing, but the churning in my gut says he’s right. She didn’t say much after she looked around, and she stopped us in the middle of a heavy make-out session that at any other time would have continued. Did my house freak her out?

“Listen, bro, I love you. I want the best for you and I think Colby’s it. She’s going through a shitty time right now, but she’s a good woman, a hard worker, beautiful, fun and easy-going. She’s worth fighting for. If you’re coming back to life, do it with her, but say goodbye to your old life with Carol first.

“You need a woman in your life with some down-to-earth qualities. Those bitches you work with every day are not who you are. I’ve always been worried one of them would get their claws into you and we’d never see you again. You are good at fitting into that fancy-ass lawyer world—always have been smarter than the rest of us—but you’re also a man who isn’t afraid of a hard day of work and getting your hands dirty. Your time in the Army proved that if nothing else did.”

“Why haven’t you said any of this to me before? It’s not like I haven’t seen you at least once a week for years.”

“Because there was no reason to bring it up. Why would I jump your shit for no reason? Now is the time to address it, when it matters. Go home and take a look at your life without the blinders of the past and decide what you want for your future.”

With all that heavy conversation floating between us, we pay our bill and leave. Diego drives us back to his place since I had all those tequila shots and need a little time to sober up more. I remain quiet in the car, contemplating all the things he said. We get out of the car so I can move to the drivers seat and before he passes me to head inside he grabs my shoulder and pulls me in for a hug. “I’ve always got your back—remember that.”

“I know. Thanks, man.”

He lets me go and strides inside without turning around and I drive the short distance home.