19
Cody took his time driving to the park.
Something had changed with Andi. He could feel it. The drive took only a few minutes, and Cody had no idea what to say, no idea what had gone wrong in such a short time. Back at the rescue site, Andi had warmed up to him. The two seemed to have found the love they’d lost. But after she changed clothes, she returned to the lobby closed off. Like the morning had never happened.
They walked in silence to a bench near the swings. This time Cody didn’t take her hand. He could tell she didn’t want that.
They sat down. He broke the tension first. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No . . .” Andi seemed to steel herself to whatever pain she must’ve been feeling. “It’s not you.” She stared at her hands, folded in her lap. “It’s me.”
“Don’t do this, Andi.” He could read her tone. She was giving up on them. She already had.
“Cody.”
“Please . . .” He tried to talk above the sound of his pounding heart. “I still love you . . . I never stopped.” This couldn’t end badly. Not after the morning they’d just shared.
“I know.” Andi seemed to dismiss the importance of that. “It’s just . . . Cody.” She turned to face him. “I can’t love you again.” Her eyes welled up. “The possibility of . . .”
Cody knew what she was going to say. “The possibility of me hurting you one more time? Is that what this is about?” He slid closer to her. “Andi, I’ll never hurt you. Never again. I never meant to in the first place.”
“Don’t, Cody.” She stood and walked to the nearest tree. She leaned against the trunk and hung her head. “Please. Don’t.”
Cody could do nothing but go to her. With every fiber of his being he wanted to hold her. But he couldn’t. The walls she’d placed between them were too great. “I won’t hurt you again, Andi.” His voice was little more than a whisper. “You have to believe me.”
When she lifted her face, when her eyes met his, the pain there was so great it sliced all the way to his soul. “For a while this morning . . . I let myself go there.”
Of course she had. They both had.
She had to finish her thought. “I let myself believe things were different. That we were . . . us again.”
“Andi . . .”
“No.” She couldn’t bear to hear his explanation now. “I can’t take the chance, Cody. You always hurt me. Every time.”
“I’m sorry. I know what went wrong and now . . . now I’d do better. We can make it work.” Frustration took a swing at him. He fought back. Steady, Cody. Stay calm. This was no time to let his emotions get in the way. Give me the words. Please, God. He shook his head. “The thing is, Andi, it was never your fault. There’s things you don’t know about me. About how things were after our second engagement.”
Andi looked at him for a long time and she shook her head. She made a sound that was more cry than laugh. “This can’t happen.” She grabbed a quick breath. “Don’t you see, Cody? Can’t you hear yourself? Things fell apart after our second engagement. If that isn’t a sign that it’s never going to work, I don’t know what is.”
He tried to think of the right words, the best way to explain the past. The PTSD, the dreams, the obsessive feelings that plagued him in crowds. The sporadic episodes. She needed to know how the terror had come back after their second engagement. The way it could always come back as long as he lived.
Then Cody thought of something. There had been no episode this morning, no flashbacks. Usually stressful situations acted as triggers. But not today. That was at least an improvement.
But when he looked at her face, he knew. Her heart was clearly too far gone. And only here and now did Cody understand how very hurt Andi was. When she said she couldn’t go through another round of losing him, she meant it. “So . . . you won’t give me a chance to . . . to fix this?”
A single tear rolled down her cheek. “Haven’t we tried, Cody?”
Haven’t we tried? Her words lodged in his heart and stopped him from wanting to tell her anything more. He couldn’t fight for something she was so afraid of. Not if she was still this hurt. Cody took his place on the bench again. “You want to be my friend, is that what you’re saying?”
It took her a minute, but finally Andi shook her head. “No.” She returned to the bench and reached for his hand, closing the distance between them. “I’m saying I can’t be your friend. We can’t be anything, Cody.” Her tears came harder now. “We need to move on. Have our own lives.”
Cody worked the muscles in his jaw. There had to be a way to ease her heartache, a way to tell her that he’d never be closed off to her again. But he couldn’t think of the words. “I get it.” He studied her eyes. “You want a fresh start, right? Someone new who . . . who hasn’t broken your heart.” He paused. “Someone like that . . . that Caleb you work with.”
For the first time since he’d gotten there, uncertainty clouded her eyes. “No . . . Maybe . . . I don’t know what I want.”
“Just not me.”
“You don’t get it.” She slid a few inches away as she stared at him. “I love you, Cody. I always have.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “But you have a pattern. A pattern of breaking my heart, and I can’t stay here and let it happen again.”
He touched her cheek and then let his hand fall back to his side. “So what now?” His tone was softer than before. Kinder. “You spend the rest of your life wondering what if? Is that what you want?”
“I know what I want. I’ve made up my mind.” The anger had faded from her voice, too. She stood and took a few steps back. “Not everyone gets the happily ever after, Cody. You and I, we weren’t meant to be. Can’t you see that?”
“No.” He was on his feet now, walking to her, erasing the distance between them. “I love you, Andi. The way I’ve never loved anyone in all my life.”
She looked down and for a moment she covered her face with her hands. “Don’t say that, Cody. Please.”
“Andi, look at me.” He took a step closer. So close he could smell her sweet breath, see the way her eyelashes curled on their own. “I need to see you.”
Clearly she didn’t want to do as he said. But after a minute she lifted her face and looked at him.
He wanted to take hold of her hands. But he didn’t dare. Not the way she was feeling now. Their eyes connected, almost like they used to when they were together. “When I tell you I love you still, I mean it. I’ve been praying for you . . . for us . . . for the chance at this. I’ve been praying ever since you left.” He put his hand on her shoulder and removed it almost as quickly. “I’ll always love you, Andi. What happened before . . . that was my fault, it was—”
“Don’t.” She pulled back from him. “I don’t want excuses, Cody. I’ve written a thousand of them for you. The reasons you might have forgotten I existed after our second engagement. The bottom line is this . . . it doesn’t matter what you were going through. You didn’t tell me.” She turned away for a moment and then faced him again. “Don’t you see? If you were having some real issue, you should’ve told me. I was your fiancée, Cody.” She took a quick breath. “And if it wasn’t big enough to tell me, then it shouldn’t have been big enough to come between us.”
Every word she said made sense. Sure, he could explain himself. He could tell her now about the PTSD and the horror of the dreams. But she was right. It was too late. He should’ve told her back then.
“I need to go, Cody.” Her eyes brimmed with tears again. “I heard that Adele song the other day. The one from a few years ago. ‘All I Ask.’ Do you know it?”
Everyone knew it. He nodded. “Yes.” His heart was already racing, the panic already setting in. Andi was standing right here, but he was about to lose her. The way he had lost her every time they were together, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. In a few minutes she would be gone.
Forever.
Andi took a step closer. “That’s how I want you to leave this time. Like the Adele song.” Her eyes had never looked more sad. “It matters how this ends. Just in case . . . I never love this way again.”
No! The word screamed through Cody’s mind. This was crazy! He had to stop her. But there was nothing more he could say, no argument that remained. She was still coming to him, still drawing nearer. “Hold me, Cody . . . like we’re more than just friends.” Her voice broke and the tears ran down her face. “One more time.”
The song played in Cody’s heart while he took Andi into his arms. This was their last goodbye. He could feel it. She was sobbing now. Not loud or uncontrollably, but with quiet tears. She pressed her hands into his back, as if she never wanted to let go. Same as him.
When she stepped away, her eyes were puffy. “I love you, Cody. Please . . . let me have my life.”
He had thought for weeks about what he would say if he was given this moment, how they would work through his issues together, and if she still struggled to trust him, they would work through hers.
But now, she had made it clear she didn’t want his excuses. However valid they might be. His eyes filled with tears, too. His sorrow made it hard to talk. But there was still one thing he had to say. “I’ll wait for you, Andi. If you can ever find it in your heart to trust me again, I’ll be there. One call and I’ll be on the next plane.”
After all she’d told him that morning, Cody expected her to reiterate the impossibility of that ever happening. But she didn’t. She stood there and watched him. Just looked deep into his eyes as if she were memorizing him.
One last time.
He walked with her toward the street then, and hugged her a final time. Cody hated that this was happening. He hadn’t come here to tell her goodbye. “I love you.” He wanted to kiss her, but he didn’t. There was no point. “I always will.”
“Me, too.” Again she looked at him for a long moment, and then she crossed the street toward the animal shelter.
His only choice now was to leave. Get in his car and drive away. But he wouldn’t do it, he couldn’t. Not as long as he could still see her. She glanced over her shoulder. Then, with a last look she turned away and disappeared into the tent.
Only then did Cody walk to his car and drive back to his hotel. He packed his things and headed to the airport. His heart was still beating, but he had died the minute she left. If he had nightmares on the flight home, they wouldn’t be about Afghanistan. They would be about something else. A blond, blue-eyed girl he would always love, walking out of his life.
For the last time.
• • •
ANDI DIDN’T REMEMBER to breathe until she was inside the animal shelter and Cody Coleman was completely out of sight. The ache in her heart was so great she physically hurt.
Only then did she remember she still had to return to the hotel and pick up her puppy. She was grateful for the distraction. She cried the whole way. On the shuttle to the hotel and on the way back to the shelter. It took that long to stop her tears. All last night she had wrestled with God, asking Him whether she should get back with Cody or cut things off for good.
In the end, she felt the Lord leading her to say goodbye. But as the day played out, as she worked in the shelter and kept her distance from Caleb—who was more chatty than usual—Andi wasn’t so sure.
Telling herself that she was fine alone, that all she needed was her faith in God, sounded good. Altruistic, even. She was better off like this, living life where no one could break her heart.
But was it true?
She thought about Cody’s last words. If her heart ached for him before, this was a new gut-wrenching level, one she wasn’t familiar with. If he loved her . . . if he wouldn’t move on until she stopped being afraid of him . . . then what was she afraid of?
It was a question that haunted her the rest of the day. Was she wrong to let him go? After watching him help those children? Andi wrestled with her thoughts. Were her fears the only thing keeping her from a happily ever after with Cody Coleman? That night when Andi and her puppy reached their hotel, she wasn’t sure what to do. By now Cody had no doubt flown back to California. After all, she had made it clear she didn’t want to be with him.
Doubts collected in her heart like bits of debris on the local roadside. She read her Bible—1 Timothy this time. It was full of warning. But there near the end was a verse that gave Andi the most beautiful hope. Especially tonight.
But godliness with contentment is great gain. For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it . . . if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that.
Yes, Andi would be content with just that. Food and clothing and a life of serving the Lord. That would be enough. Andi remembered how it felt to be in Cody’s arms. She’d never feel that way again. Which would be okay, because God’s Word promised it would be. Food and clothing. She needed nothing else.
Or did she?
Andi looked at another verse, in Song of Solomon. One part stuck out to her: I found the one my heart loves. She read the words again. The one my heart loves. Yes, she had already found him. But no matter what he said, no matter how many times he promised her otherwise, the truth was he had always ended up hurting her. If he wasn’t leaving her, he was leaving her alone.
Either way was more than Andi could take.
She’d never been more confused. Alone in the hotel room with her puppy, Andi wondered if she was crazy. Cody loved her still. She believed that. So why was she too afraid to take him back again? Then she remembered the single mom and her children and suddenly the answer was clear once more.
She didn’t want to be that woman. Didn’t want to someday be alone and desperate in a house that was falling apart with three children and floodwaters rising. No, she couldn’t take the chance that Cody would leave her again. Better to be alone.
Even if she missed him as long as she lived.