THE NEXT TWO weeks passed as if I were in a walking coma. I functioned, mostly, but my heart and the rest of my world was in shambles. The memory of Adam, which had been dormant during the weeks I’d been close to Sam, had reawakened in brute force, bringing with it all the regret and guilt I’d thought I’d begun to bury. But it wasn’t only Adam. It was Sam, too. I’d let him go. I let him walk out of my life as easily as he’d walked into it, and I missed him.
I missed him so damn much.
Sitting at my desk, I glanced at my phone and tapped the screen, hoping there’d be a missed call or text. There wasn’t, but why would there be? Rather than giving him a single reason to stay, I’d given him a million reasons to leave. My silence had spoken louder than my heart, and I had nobody to blame but myself.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?”
I glanced over at Debbie, giving her a weak smile. “I’m fine. Just tired. I haven’t been sleeping well and—”
“You’ve lost it.”
“What?”
“The smile in your eyes. It’s gone. You’ve lost it.” She walked over to my desk and perched herself on the corner, searching my face as if she were looking for my explanation before I’d even given it to her. “What happened?”
Fast and unexpected, tears flooded my eyes. I quickly reached up, wiping them from my cheeks. “I let him go.”
Debbie frowned. “I don’t understand. I thought you were happy. I thought—”
“I was.” Another round of tears collected, and I sniffed them back. “He told me he loved me and I … I clammed up. I didn’t say anything, and I let him walk out the door.”
“Do you love him?”
Did I love him?
God, that was the ultimate question, wasn’t it? Part of me was convinced I knew the answer, but there was a larger part of me that felt like some huge mixing pot of emotion, and I didn’t know how to discern one from the other. “I’m not sure I deserve to love anybody.”
“And what makes you think that?”
“It’s my fault Adam’s dead.” I hated the way the words flowed so easily from my mouth, but when you accept something as true, it was easier to admit. “If I’d have done even one thing differently that night, he’d still be here.” I shook my head, a lump of emotion clogged in my throat. “How is it fair that I get to be happy when he’s gone? It isn’t.”
“Oh, my sweet girl.” Debbie cradled my hand in hers, squeezing it gently, her free one reaching out to swipe the pain-filled drops from the corners of my eyes. “You have to stop blaming yourself. Adam’s not dead because of you. His death was a tragic accident that merely occurred after a lover’s quarrel. Couples fight and argue. You and Adam had a disagreement that night, that’s all it was, but you had no way of knowing he’d walk out the door and never return.”
“I told him to go. I demanded he leave. If I’d just said yes. If I’d have unlocked the door. If I’d have just talked to him—”
“We can’t measure our life on ‘what-ifs’ and ‘should haves.’ If we do, we’ll never know the true meaning of happiness. Adam didn’t leave because you told him to. He was a fully grown man capable of making his own decisions. You need to stop feeling responsible for his death when you had no way of controlling his actions. No amount of guilt can change the past. It won’t bring you closure, and more importantly, it won’t bring him back.”
She was right. It wouldn’t bring him back. There was no reversing time. Actions and words were permanent, no matter how badly we wanted to erase them from our history.
“I loved him,” I whispered on a desperate cry, my voice full of all the anguish I felt. “I loved him so very much.”
“And Sam?”
Sam.
My heart ached as I thought of him.
My sweet, loving Sam.
I smiled through my tears. “Sam is everything. His smile, his laughter, his passion, his need to make me happy—at times, it’s the only thing that keeps me going. Yet when I’m alone, I can’t help but think of Adam. I think of the life we never got to live and the emptiness I’ve felt since that night. It’s as if I have this massive hole in my chest where my heart used to be, and I don’t know how to allow Sam to fill it.”
“It sounds to me like he already has, and you’re simply afraid to admit it.” Debbie pressed her fingers beneath my chin, gently lifting it until our gazes met. “Sometimes, it hurts more to hold on than it does to let go.”
There were no truer words spoken. Time and pain had taught me that holding on to the memory of Adam was slowly killing me, but I had been too weak to fight it. If he was dead, then a part of me felt as though I deserved to be dead, too. “What if I can’t ever let him go?”
Debbie’s lips thinned. “What if you already have?” In her eyes, I saw belief. “I think you’re scared to let someone in where Adam’s memory still resides, but it doesn’t have to be one or the other, sweetheart. You can remember Adam and the love you once shared and have a future with Sam.”
Could I? I wasn’t sure if it were possible, but Debbie’s words gave me hope, and sometimes, a little bit of hope was the only thing you needed.
IT WAS LATE. The normal bustle of people on the sidewalk had thinned to a few remaining stragglers as I rounded the corner of Elmore, heading toward the entrance of The Coffee Cave. There were two things I’d realized in the time it had taken me to get from my front door to my current location. One: walking alone was different from walking hand in hand with someone. The breeze had a way of weaving itself through your fingers, chilling your every last bone. And two: I was nervous at the possibility of seeing Sam again. If he was there, I wasn’t sure what I’d say or if he’d even cast me a second glance.
To be honest, I hadn’t thought much past the need to catch a glimpse of him, to hopefully soothe the constant paralyzing ache which had formed in his absence—an ache I had been responsible for placing there.
Despite Debbie’s meaningful words, I struggled to eliminate the blame. This was my fault. Perhaps not Adam’s death, because when I took a step back and separated my emotions from the events, it truly was an accidental tragedy. But this—allowing Sam to walk away believing he didn’t own any part of my heart—was all me.
Stopping in front of the large glass window, I peeked inside. The booths were empty, and the usually congested aisles and walkways were free of any roaming bodies. In the distance, Addy moseyed about, a tray of what appeared to be freshly baked and cooled muffins in her hands. I watched as she set it on the counter and slid onto a stool, wrapping them individually in clear swatches of cellophane before adding them to the wicker basket beside her.
A shiver of disappointment slid down my spine.
Sam wasn’t there.
Taking ahold of the handle anyway, I stepped inside. The bell above my head performed its happy little jingle as the mouthwatering aroma of coffee and baked goods barraged my nose. It felt like forever since my last visit; I’d almost forgotten how heavenly it all smelled.
Twisting on her stool, Addy turned to face me. “Cassi.” A look of relief crossed her delicate features. “How are you, love?”
“Hi, Addy. It’s not too late, is it?”
It was almost closing time, but I needed to be there. Even if he wasn’t, I needed this more than being locked away at home and falling victim to my own condemning thoughts.
“For you?” She gifted me a warm smile. “Never.” Standing, she grabbed the pot of hazelnut coffee and a mug from beneath the counter and placed it in front of me. She filled it to the brim as I sat on the stool beside hers. “What brings you in at this hour? I’ve missed seeing your pretty face in with the morning crowd.”
I fought a frown and failed, but I wasn’t sure it mattered. I had a feeling Addy knew why my presence over the last couple of weeks had been nonexistent. “No reason. I just didn’t want to be home.”
She didn’t push, only nodded, and I attempted to redirect the conversation.
“Do you always bake the muffins the night before?”
“Sure do. That way they are fresh for the morning rush. Would you like one?”
“I’d love one.”
Picking a muffin up from the tray, she sliced it in half and turned to place it on the grill. A packet of butter lay waiting to be spread on top, and after a few seconds, she passed it to me. My stomach practically growled in anticipation as I lifted it to my lips and began to sink my teeth into the first warm and entirely delicious bite.
“He was here earlier. You missed him by about an hour.”
I paused, speaking around a mouthful of muffin. “I’m sorry?”
“Sam. It’s why you really came, isn’t it? In hopes he might be here?”
Damn. She was good. Really good.
Whatever expression was on my face provided her the answer she was searching for because she kept on speaking. “I don’t know what happened between the pair of you. He hasn’t mentioned it, and as much as I care about him, it’s not my business unless he wants it to be.”
“How is he?”
“He’s Sam. He masks his pain with a smile, always has, but that boy has never been good at hiding things from me. Whatever fallout you two have had is tearing him apart. He misses you, terribly, sweetheart.”
“I miss him, too.” My heart squeezed in my chest. “I miss him so much, but I made a mistake, Addy, and I don’t know how to make it right. I don’t know how to be what he deserves.”
From the moment I’d met Sam, he’d been nothing less than perfect. Granted, he had his own shortcomings. We all did, but his were what made him him. They were why I’d fallen for him, helplessly, hopelessly. Sam didn’t judge; he simply tried to understand. That’s all he wanted to do, was understand, and I pushed him away.
“We’re going to make mistakes, dear, that’s a given. We’re human. The important thing is that we learn from them.” She brought her mug to her lips, sipping her coffee. “And as far as being what you think he deserves, that’s not up to you. The only person who can determine what Sam deserves is Sam. We are our own worst critics. When we look at ourselves through our own eyes, we’re quick to see our flaws, our imperfections. What we don’t realize is there is a heart out there meant to love each and every one of them. And maybe Sam’s heart is meant to love you.”
“Do you really believe that?”
She gave me a small nod. “Absolutely.”