Three days later . . .
The shrill ring of my alarm sent blinding pain through my skull. I buried my face in the pillow as I hammered my fist on the nightstand, missing the alarm the first time but smashing it silent with the second. Then I covered my head with another pillow—Poppy’s pillow—and willed the pounding in my temples to stop.
“Fuck,” I groaned as it just got worse.
I couldn’t gripe. I’d earned this hangover. For everything that I’d done, this was just a fraction of the punishment I deserved.
It had been three days since I’d gone to Poppy’s house and told her the news. Three days since I’d sat by her side on that single porch step and explained it all. How Nina Veras had killed Jamie. How she’d eluded the police and escaped. How the only reason she’d even been in Montana was because I’d been too much of a pushover to send her ass back to California.
How the loss of Poppy’s husband had been my fault.
She had stayed silent as I made the confession. She’d sat like stone, staring blankly at her front yard. The only movement came from her shallow breaths and the tears streaming down her face as I broke her heart. Only after I’d been done, after we’d sat in excruciating silence for an hour, had she finally asked me to leave.
Driving home that night, I knew I’d lost her.
I’d texted her the next day, just to check in, but hadn’t gotten much of a response. I’m fine. Just busy. I’ll call soon.
Busy.
I’m sure she’d been busy. Busy telling her family and Jamie’s the news of the investigation. Busy blocking me from her mind.
So I’d spent the last three days locked in my house, waiting for the phone to ring, mourning the best thing I’d ever had and lost.
The bourbon I’d guzzled last night hadn’t helped. My heart was still in pieces—the ache in my chest just another fucking bonus to go along with my splitting headache.
“Cole!” Dad’s shout carried up the stairs.
Goddamn it. I never should have given him my house key. The last thing I wanted was to see Dad. To see the disappointment etched on his face too. I didn’t need a fucking audience as my life spiraled out of control. Couldn’t I just be left to suffer alone?
“Cole!”
I guess not.
Whipping the sheet off my legs, I pushed myself to sitting. The room was spinning as fast as my stomach, but I swallowed down my urge to hurl and stood. On unsteady feet, I shuffled my way out of my bedroom and down the hall.
“Cole! Get your ass down here!”
“I’m coming,” I yelled as loud as my head and raspy voice would allow. “Just give me a fucking second.”
Every step throbbed behind my eyes—the light from the windows only making it worse. By the time I made it downstairs, I walked straight to the couch and collapsed so I wouldn’t puke or pass out. “What are you doing here?”
Dad sighed and sat on the coffee table. “Matt Hernandez called me this morning. He’s been trying to get ahold of you since last night but kept getting voicemail.”
Shit. Where was my phone? It must have died sometime in the evening and I’d been too drunk to notice. Had Poppy tried to call?
“What did Matt want?”
“Just to check in.”
“Did he . . .”
“Tell me you found Jamie Maysen’s killer on Friday? Yeah.”
I grunted. I didn’t have the energy to rehash the story again and I was sure Matt had told him all about Nina Veras. “So?”
“So, I got the story from Matt.” He paused. “And then I went to her house and got the rest from Poppy.”
My eyes flew open as I sat up straight. “You saw her? Is she okay?”
It was New Year’s Day—Jamie’s birthday—and I couldn’t imagine today would be easier on her. I hated that I wasn’t by her side, but the last thing I wanted was my presence making things worse.
“She’s okay. Sad, as to be expected.”
I slumped back into the couch and stared at the ceiling. All that time I’d been working so hard to make Poppy happy. If only I had known that the best thing I could have done for her was to stay away.
“Cole, look at me.” Dad’s eyes softened with his voice. “There’s only one person to blame for that murder. It’s not you.”
I shook my head. “No. No, it is my fault.”
“Bullshit.” His bark made me wince. “We all give warnings. Every single cop in America has given a warning. Whether it be a speeding ticket to a soccer mom. A college kid that’s had too much to drink. Or a girl who was spray-painting an old wall that has since been torn down. If you’re to blame, then you might as well condemn the rest of us too.”
I sighed and hung my head. “Poppy lost her husband. I could have prevented that.”
“I just don’t believe that’s true, and if you would stop to think about it for a minute, you probably wouldn’t either. There’s no guarantee that girl ever would have been sent away. And even if she had been shipped back to California, all it would have taken was a bus ticket to get her back. The only person to blame for that murder is her. Are you hearing me? Her. Not you.”
My throat started to close. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is Poppy, and I lost her.”
“Then go find her.”
Without another word, Dad stood and let himself out. He left through the front door, but his words stayed, echoing in my living room.
Then go find her.
She’d asked me to leave. She hadn’t called. She wouldn’t want me around. Would she? As the question went unanswered, I pushed myself off the couch and shuffled into the kitchen. Dad’s words were still ringing in my ears.
Then go find her.
I filled a glass of water, chugging it down along with three pain pills.
I wanted to see her, but the truth was, I was scared. I hadn’t stayed away because of some text. I’d stayed away because of my own insecurities—my own jealousy. I’d assumed she was still so in love with Jamie that she’d never see past this horrible coincidence. That she’d never forgive me.
When in reality, I hadn’t given her enough faith.
Poppy had enough love for us both.
Then go find her.
Maybe things really were that simple.
I put my glass in the sink, ignoring the pain in my temples, and jogged to the stairs. Heading straight for the bathroom, I didn’t wait for the water to warm up before I stepped inside the shower. Then I washed away the booze and self-loathing, stepping out clean and ready to find Poppy.
There was no guarantee that she’d forgive me. No guarantee that we’d make it through this together. But I was going to find her and find out. I wasn’t going to let my own issues keep me away for another moment.
I drove to the restaurant first, but since her car wasn’t there, I flipped my truck around and went the opposite direction toward her house. A new For Sale sign was in the yard with a Sold placard already slanted across its front.
What the fuck? She’d sold her house already? I’d been here three days ago and it hadn’t even been listed.
I parked in front of her garage and went to her door, knocking but not expecting an answer. Every window was dark, and inside, I could only see empty rooms. Where was she? Where were her things?
My hand dove into my pocket for my phone. “Shit,” I muttered when it came out empty.
I didn’t have my phone. It was dead somewhere in my house.
Cursing myself for getting so drunk last night, I raced back toward my house, mentally drafting my apology speech once I got my phone charged.
I pulled up to my house, hitting the remote for the garage, but did a double take when I noticed the porch.
Two white rocking chairs—chairs Poppy had sworn she was going to buy after moving in—were placed perfectly in front of the railing.
She’d been here? I scanned the street, looking for her car, but it wasn’t here. Which meant we’d crossed paths. While I’d been searching for her, she’d been here. But why had she left?
Not wasting time by parking in the garage, I left my truck in the driveway and hustled across the snow-covered yard, taking the porch steps two at a time. But the moment my foot landed at the top, I froze.
Leaned against the front door were two books. One I’d never seen before. One I had. It was Jamie Maysen’s journal for his birthday list. And on top of both books was a letter with my name curled in Poppy’s fancy handwriting.
I picked up both books and the letter, not bothering to go inside and get out of the cold, then sat in one of the rocking chairs and started with the letter.
Cole,
Exactly one year ago, I decided to finish Jamie’s birthday list. I was standing in the kitchen at my house and taking a selfie. That’s how this all started. One selfie of me crying in front of a chocolate birthday cake.
I wish I could go back to that day, not to erase this last year, but to tell myself to hold on. To tell myself to keep breathing, because pretty soon, someone special would come into my life and make it easier. I’d tell myself not to cry, because he’d be there to help me finish the birthday list. He’d hold my hand when I needed to borrow some strength. He’d let me cry into his shirt when I couldn’t hold back the tears. He’d make it easy to fall in love again.
Because I do. I love you, Cole. I can prove it too. Do me a favor. Put this letter down and look at the big book. And don’t just flip through it. Really stop and look.
I set down the letter and opened the large book. Except it wasn’t a book—it was a photo album. Poppy had printed out all of her daily pictures and made me this book.
My heart twisted as I stared at the first page. Seeing her first picture hurt. Just as she’d described in the letter, there was Poppy—beautiful, but miserable—standing next to a cake filled with burning candles.
The pages that followed weren’t a lot better. Her blue eyes were dull and her smiles were forced. She looked like a ghost of my Poppy.
I kept flipping, hating every one of these pictures, until I got about halfway through the book and the pain in my chest started to ease. The halfway point was when the photos started to include the restaurant. Poppy’s smiles actually reached her eyes, and a handful of pages later, I found the photo I’d taken of her the day we’d walked in the park. The day she’d joked about having a big nose.
From there, the photos were all ones I recognized, since I’d taken most of them. I thumbed through the rest of the book quickly, wanting to get back to Poppy’s letter, but I stopped on the last page.
Unlike the middle of the book, this page wasn’t a collage, but just one photo. It was a simple picture, entirely of Poppy’s face. Her eyes were bright, like they were whenever I made her laugh. Her smile was wide, like it was whenever I told her that I loved her.
Her happiness radiated off the page, and I soaked it up for a few moments before going back to the letter.
Did you see it?
I nodded.
You did that, Cole. You. You and all of these crazy coincidences that brought us together. Now do one more thing for me. Flip through Jamie’s birthday list.
I set down the letter again and opened the leather journal. I went through it quickly since not much had changed from the first time Poppy had shown me this list. The only difference was that she’d added marks to the items she’d completed.
All of them were marked, except one.
50th Birthday: Change someone’s life
Why hadn’t she marked that one done? She’d changed many lives. Tuesday Hastings’s. Jimmy’s. Randall’s. Molly’s. Finn’s.
Mine.
So why would she leave that box empty?
Confused, I went back to the letter.
I’m not checking the last box, because I don’t have to. Jamie finished that one himself. He changed my life. And he changed yours. His birthday list changed us both. I started his list, hoping I’d find closure. Hoping I’d be able to let go of the past and start to live for the future. But I was wrong. Finishing the list didn’t give me a future.
You did.
Read these words until you believe them. Nothing you did caused Jamie’s death. Nothing you did could have prevented it. I know it to the very bottom of my soul. Just like I know now that I’m not to blame either. And just like I know that life is too short to waste.
Love,
Poppy
The minute I read the last line, a car door slammed shut, bringing me back to reality. Poppy’s car was parked on the street and she was opening up the trunk.
The dull throb in my head vanished and the ache in my chest disappeared with just one look at her beautiful face. If I was her future, then she was mine.
She ducked into the trunk, lifted out a box, then shoved the trunk closed with her elbow before coming up the sidewalk. Her nose and cheeks were pink from the cold and her breath trailed behind her in tiny, white clouds as she stepped up to the porch.
I set aside the letter and the books, then stood from the rocking chair to take the box from her hands, putting them down by my feet. “Hi.”
“Hi. Did you get my letter? I probably should have left it inside, but you weren’t here and I thought you’d see it with the chairs.”
I nodded. “I did.”
“Good. I wanted you to have some time to read it alone.” She stepped past me, walking the length of the porch and inspecting her rocking chairs before coming back to lean on a post and look out into the yard. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come over. I tried to call you last night, but I got your voicemail.”
“My phone died.”
“I figured. I also figured you wouldn’t turn me away if I just showed up.” She grinned over her shoulder. “I’d actually planned to be here earlier this morning, but I wanted to have the photo album done first and putting it together took longer than I’d thought with everything else going on. Then your dad came by. It’s been a hectic three days.”
I didn’t doubt that. If her house had sold, she’d been packing on top of everything else.
“It’s okay.” I crossed the space between us, standing by the post but facing her instead of the street. My hands were itching to touch her, to pull her into my arms and hold her tight, but I didn’t want to press, so I stuffed them into my jeans. The second she gave me any kind of opening, they’d be ready.
“I’m sorry, Cole. I’m sorry that I asked you to leave the other night. I just needed some time to process everything. Maybe some time to finally forgive myself and realize you were right. I’m not to blame for Jamie’s death and neither are you. Can you understand that?”
I leaned into the post, breathing easy for the first time in days. “I get it, and there’s no need to apologize. I’m just glad you’re here.”
She smiled. “Me too.”
“How are you doing today?” Jamie’s birthday had to be taking its toll.
She pushed away from the post and stepped in front of me, then wrapped her arms around my waist as she shuffled close. “I’m better now.”
My hands abandoned my pockets and tucked her into my chest. The second she was in my arms, three awful days just disappeared. This. This is what I’d been needing for the past three days. Not bourbon or time alone or even words of wisdom from my dad. What I needed would always be Poppy.
I considered myself a strong man, but this tiny woman in my arms had me beat every time. Three days after I’d rocked her world, and here she was, bringing peace and love back into my life.
“I love you, Poppy.”
She gave me more of her weight. “I love you, Cole.”
We stood on the porch, holding each other and letting the silence say the rest. I don’t know how much time passed with Poppy’s cheek pressed against my heart. But I did know that we were going to be fine. That we would have our future.
“Do you know what I like best about New Year’s Day?” she whispered.
“What?”
“Everyone gets a new beginning.”
I smiled and pressed a kiss to her hair. Behind me, a set of brakes squeaked to a slow stop on the street. Finn was parking a U-Haul behind Poppy’s car with Nazboo at his side.
“New beginnings?”
She nodded. “I think we deserve a new beginning, don’t you? Only this time, let’s start from a different porch.”