Page 88 of It Started at the Lake

“I get it. When phrased that way, I was doomed to fail from the start.”

Evie holds up a finger. “No, because part of your deal was Bennett helping you take things slow and pointing out what you do that may trigger men to bolt.”

“True,” I hedge.

“And in the process of you getting to know someone organically, like other people who aren't emotionally abused do, you fell in love with a great guy. Yes?” Steph confirms.

Why does it seem way simpler than it really is when spelled out this way? “Yes, but that great guy is a widower who told me he would never be ready to date anyone else, then a few short hours later admitted he liked me. We then rushed, like I always do, and I got burned.”

Steph takes my hand in hers. “Did you get burned, though? Or are you freaking out about this being the first real, healthy relationship you’ve ever had and at the first sign of trouble, you used an insecurity as an excuse to keep yourself safe?”

As Steph says this, I stop and digest exactly what she’s saying. Her words slide like a key into a lock, opening the truth inside of me. Am I completely jealous and insecure about Jen that at the first sign I bolted?

I did.

I’ve known since before I met Bennett that he was a widower. The entire time I secretly pined for him, I was well aware of Bennett’s past, his feelings toward Jen, and it didn’t bother me. Probably because I didn’t think we’d ever get together, but the thing is, Jen sounds like an amazing woman who helped Ben become the man and partner he is today. Without her, I might not like Bennett. Instead of being petty and comparing myself to her, I should be thanking her and asking Bennett what he learned from his first marriage and how it will help our relationship moving forward. That’s not to say I still won’t have problems in the future, but I can look at this in a new way and move past my resentment that Ben loved someone before me.

So yeah. I’m the problem here. But with Steph’s revelation, I can fix it. Forgiving Bennett for his ill-phrased wording is easy. Keeping my reactions in check in the future is a work in progress. “Well, shoot, Steph, when did you get to be so smart?”

“From my psychologist helping me realize I was doing the exact same thing in my relationships.”

My protective drive is mad we experienced this in the first place. I want to take Steph’s burden on myself and save her from the pain of it all. But it’s not my job, and Steph’s doing well working through her struggles without me. “Tell your therapist thank you. Mom and Dad did a number on us, didn’t they?”

Steph grabs a bite-sized brownie from the container. “They sure did. But we don’t have to be them, Millie. We can change.” She pops the treat in her mouth.

My heart is lighter than it’s been all week. “We absolutely can change and be better. Now hand me one of those before you eat them all.” I motion for Steph to pass me the sweet treat.

“Promise you’ll call me when you get home?” I say, hugging Steph goodbye. I can’t believe she’s leaving already. I wish she could stay longer. Or better, move closer to me. This week is exactly what we needed to reconnect, drop our walls, and restore our relationship. Bennett nailed his apology.

Henry’s in his Aston Martin, ready to drive my sister to the airport. I offered, but Steph politely declined. She wanted one more hour with Henry. My chest pinched when she said she preferred to spend her last moments with Henry instead of me, but those two have been almost inseparable since she arrived. They flirt, but Steph said she likes him as a friend more than a boyfriend.

“I’ll text you,” Steph assures me. “I’m not big into phone calls.”

“A text will do. Thank you again for dropping everything and coming here. I had the best week with you.”

“Same. And remember what we talked about, okay?”

“I will. Bye, sis. Safe travels home.”

She gets in the front seat, waving goodbye. “Later.”

I watch until Henry’s car drives down the lane, out of sight, happy I spent time with her and sad we can’t be together more often. But I’m incredibly grateful for the time we got. We had a ton of fun and our conversation on the rock last night saved me.

Not ready to deal with my bedroom that will undoubtedly feel too empty without Steph to share it with, I head to the rock.

Taking a page from Bennett’s book, I spill my guts to my boyfriend’s late wife. “Hey, Jen. This is super weird. I apologize for the awkwardness, but this needs to happen. For my sake and hopefully Bennett’s. I admit, I was ridiculously jealous of you. Bennett, the whole family really, talks about you like you pooped rainbows and walked on water. That’s hard to hear and not compare myself, you know.”

I pick up a pinecone, running my finger along the edges. “The thing is, if you were alive and I came here as Evie’s friend and we met, I think we’d get along and have a blast. But being second, following after you, is difficult. I recognize it’s my issue and not yours or Bennett’s. I promise to work on appreciating everything you and Bennett had rather than comparing myself. Let’s be real, you probably were the one doing dishes every night and picking up his socks he drops on the floor, and putting the toilet seat down after him. You and Becca probably reminded him to open doors for you, and that’s why he does it for me. Oh, and that foot massage. Well done, lady. You taught him gooood. And his apology? Could bringing my estranged sister be any sweeter? Seriously, he nailed it.

“Anyway, I might confide in you more often when Bennett does or says something that annoys me. You, more than anyone, will understand what I’m going through. And I’ll do my best to take care of him. Like I promised Bennett, I’ll be there for him and remind him your death wasn’t his fault. Anyway, thank you, Jen. We’ll honor you and keep you a part of our lives in the healthiest way possible. I hope you’re happy.”

CHAPTER 42

Camille

“Do my ears deceive me, or did I hear you talking to Jen?” Bennett asks behind me, a mix of amusement and disbelief in his tone.

I hop up at Bennett’s voice, my heart beating wildly like a caged bird.

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