Page 166 of We Redeemed the Rain

But even the wordswe’ll keep in touchslurred off my tongue and the air felt like concrete as I raised my arms to hug her. I wanted to do a lot of things in that moment, but as always…I could only manage the basics.

Survive.

Try to breathe.

Remember how to move.

Focus on something close by.

Think of anything but the past.

Thiswas why I couldn’t be with her.

My love for her would always be hindered, always second. I would let her down because I couldn’t live it down. If she needed me when my memories came calling, she’d lose every damn time. If I was slipping, there was nothing I could do. I didn’t know how to stop it, it just happened without my consent or control.

Cooper was right. I would destroy her life.

But like an absolute idiot, my mind had succumbed to playing, spiraling, and thinking about the things we could be. I foolishlyallowed myself to think I could be different. For a few blessed hours, I resurrected ideas—dreams—I had buried alongside my hope.

Wife. Children. Family.

Certain fantasies stuck to my mind throughout the years. Like a chronic illness sometimes they tortured me, other times they lay dormant. But when I got to yearning for togetherness, the same imaginings paralyzed me with loneliness. They’d rear their head until I was so depressed I wanted to die.

Every single one of those fantasies were derived word for word from Strings’ letters. A preteen girl’s words and stories, written in pink and purple gel pens, wove my only concept of a family unit. She told me how they all went ice skating a week before Christmas every single year. How celebrating your birthday in the Thompson home meant picking the entire menu for the day. Game nights, long talks with Dad, cooking with Mom in the kitchen, swim days at the rinky-dink community pool, and the sibling fights.

Her stories were so real to me I had all but adopted them as my own. At first, I imagined tagging along with the Thompsons, maybe as the third brother. But eventually, I imagined myself as the father, making a beautiful life for a family I adored.

I imagined laughter in that gigantic ranch house, the rooms filling up over the years.

I imagined a wife on the front porch tucked under my arm in the swing.

I imagined locking my family in tight after the sun went down.

Three weeks ago, those dreams were faceless—blurs of people I didn’t know and would never know. Now, Bea was at the core of each one. Her existence elevated my hopes for the future to something real, something tangible, something within my reach.

I couldn’t draw a breath without remembering our kiss—her body pressing against mine, her hands plunging into my hair, her hums muffling against my lips.

That damn humming.

I drove the shovel into the dirt and cussed out loud.

Then did it again and again. Anger fueled my movements, taking them faster and faster, until my muscles screamed in pain and myback felt like it would break. Blood streaked the handle of the shovel, but I felt nothing except the searing pain in my chest, the stinging solitude, and the weight of grief in my stomach.

A long while later, I tossed the shovel aside and fell to my knees in the trench I’d created. My memories and thoughts of her were so vivid, I found myself reaching for handfuls of dirt, smelling them, just to make sure I was truly alone.

I dropped my forehead against the upturned earth and wept. Alone, under the stars and covered with soil, I curled up like a child.

“Strings, I’m sorry.” I whispered into the ground. “I’m so so sorry.”

Gravel crunched, and an engine purred down the drive. I should’ve seen this coming. I righted myself, jumped up to grab the shovel, and took a shaking scoop of dirt. Unsure of where I’d put my hat, I kept my face down and averted, wanting to avoid as much confrontation as possible. I sniffed a few times, not wanting Jesse to see me bawling like a baby.

I didn’t look up or acknowledge his nearing presence in any way.

Jesse’s boots scuffed along the gravel drive until he stood, looking down into the growing trench. A few long moments went by, just the shovel breaking the silence.

He cleared his throat. “What are you doing?”

I didn’t raise my head. “Didn’t realize you’d gone blind since dinner.”

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