Page 21 of Moving Forward

“Um, guys?” Ellie interrupts.

Danny goes completely rigid in front of me, his eyes on Ellie. Confused, I turn around to see why the atmosphere is suddenly so tense.

My eyes follow everyone else’s to see what they’re looking at. Who they’re looking at. Cain. He’s standing by the bench across from the boat, looking rumpled and a little bit lost, like he has no clue why he’s here. I can tell his eyes are bloodshot, blue irises extra vibrant. He’s perched on the front half of his feet; I’m not sure if he wants to come closer or run away. Slowly, he falls back on his heels and clutches his arm, thumb pressing into the center of his forearm, where I remember his bandage being.

“What’s he doing here?” Zoey asks.

“Shh,” Ellie commands.

Danny gives me a little nudge “You should talk to him,” he whispers.

“I should?”

“Yes.” He glances up at Ellie and then says as quietly as he can, “I think you need to hear him out. Ruth and I have been working together.”

“Danny . . .”

Cain shrugs, the left side of his mouth quirking up into a small smirk as if to say “Why not?” That smile nearly has me rushing toward him. This close to him, I can feel the familiar peacefulness that comes with his presence. I’ve craved this calmness more than I care to admit.

“I don’t think this is such a good idea . . .” Ellie warns, but I’m already walking forward.

When I’m standing in front of him, he lets go of his arm and grips the back of his neck. “Mind if I walk you back to the Millers’ place?”

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Cain leads us in the opposite direction of his boat, beyond Orchard Valley’s small strip of shops. The town is asleep, the lights out, the dogs inside, people tucked away in their houses. The only commotion is the subtle lull of the lake as the water drifts inward and outward with the wind.

Cain relaxes when we’re far enough away that we can’t hear my friends arguing back on the boat. He unzips the neck of his black sweater and pulls it off from the back, in the way only a guy can master, leaving him in only a gray T-shirt. He hands it to me with a weak smile, his hand shaking slightly.

I’m thankful for the gesture. Luckily, he hasn’t been nearly as awkward about my lack of clothes as Matt was, but I can still feel his gaze burning into my skin like a lit match. I have an urge to not put the sweater on—to just let him look at me. Unlike Matt, I almost like Cain’s attention.

He hurt Ethan. And you’ll be hurting Ethan’s memory if you think that way.

I slip into the sweater and tug at it until it hits me about mid-thigh. Without thinking, I lift the fabric to my nose and breathe in. I picture his strong arms wrapping around me and this same smell enveloping me. The last time he held me, I had so many thoughts and emotions I couldn’t sort through them all. Now I want him to do it again so I can bury myself in his arms and his scent and never come out.

And now I probably look like a total freak. Only he doesn’t even seem to notice I’m smelling his shirt. His gaze is glued to my engagement ring. Someone clued him in on my relationship with Ethan. His expression is brutal, filled with so much—pity, understanding, hesitancy, regret.

He clears his throat, glancing away. He looks gruff and unapproachable, his jaw tight and his frown exceptionally gloomy. He brings a hand up to grip the back of his neck, drawing my attention back to the gauze on his forearm. Dabs of blood have risen to the top layer.

“I really did do it, you know,” he admits gruffly.

I already know what he’s talking about, but I still need to hear him say it. “Did what?”

He stops walking and releases his breath in a hiss. We’ve made it as far as the art deco-inspired high school, which is just on the limits of downtown. Beyond here is about a mile of small neighborhoods, then the Millers’ home. Ethan said some of his fondest memories occurred here, walking home after school with Danny. One story involved being chased by a three-legged dog.

Cain runs his hand through his hair, looking like he’s about to rip it out by the roots. When he drops his hand, it pauses briefly at his wounded forearm, his fingers twitching, before falling to his side. “I sent him—Ethan—to the hospital.”

A chill runs down my spine. I pull the sleeves of the sweater down over my hands. I know full well Ethan was a different guy before he met me, but that doesn’t mean he deserved Cain’s wrath. Yet I also don’t want to believe that Cain could have intentionally hurt Ethan. I already know he’s someone I want to be able to forgive.

“Why?”

He tilts his head back, closing his eyes. “My life was spiraling,” he answers faintly. “And Ethan happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Pain flickers across his face.

“When?” I ask as calmly as I can manage.

“Three summers ago.”

I think back. Cain hasn’t reopened his eyes and I’m glad for it. Remembering Ethan always brings tears to my eyes. “We were supposed to go with Ellie and Danny to Florida that summer. He canceled at the last minute because of a family obligation—Erin was having troubles with a boyfriend.”

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