Page 65 of Since the Day We Kissed

Clyde nodded, continuing. “He’d come over here and sit out on the porch with me, every once in a while, after Wrigley was gone. I think he was lonely in those last months.”

Ethan turned away from Clyde, pretending to survey the damage in the garden.

“Look, Ethan, your dad, he carried a lot of guilt. That night he drove drunk, the accident with Sarah Walker—it was inexcusable. A life was lost, a family destroyed. There’s no making that right, ever. The town never truly forgave him. But Ethan—”

“He got what was coming to him.” Ethan’s jaw clenched. “It should’ve been him, not Kara’s mom.”

“Ethan, I can’t imagine how tough it was, growing up with him like that. You had every right to leave when you did. I might’ve done the same.” Clyde reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. “But those years in prison, they broke something in him, remade him. The man who came back, he wasn’t the same Robert who went in.”

Ethan’s laugh was bitter, hollow. “Well, congratulations, Clyde. You must be the only person in this town who can find anything good to say about Old Drunk Bennett.”

“I witnessed it,” Clyde insisted. “To my knowledge, he never asked for forgiveness—he knew he didn’t deserve it. But he did change his ways. As far as I know, he never touched another beer after prison. It doesn’t erase what he did, but he spent every day trying to be better.”

Clyde’s voice softened. “They say he died of liver cancer, but I know what it really was. That man died of a broken heart. He couldn’t go on knowing that he’d never be able to make it up to you—or the Walkers.”

A tear formed in Ethan’s eye, but he wiped it away quickly.

“There’s something else, Ethan. Before he passed, your dad mentioned a key. Said you’d need it someday.”

Ethan turned to him. “A key?”

Clyde shrugged. “He didn’t say much. Only that it’d be behind a picture of your favorite place. Somewhere special you two went together. Said you’d understand when the time came.”

Ethan stood abruptly. “I-I need to go. Thanks, Clyde. For everything. I’ll fix that hole in the fence, promise.”

Clyde’s eyes twinkled. “Whatever you’re looking for, Ethan, I hope you find it.”

Ethan hurried out of Clyde’s backyard gate, Hero close at his heels and his mind racing as fast as his feet. He knew where the key would be—exactly where.

Bursting through his own front door, Ethan sprinted down the hall, skidding to a stop in his bedroom. His eyes locked onto the dresser, where the framed photo had been face-down earlier. He’d straightened it during his first walk-through of the house, but barely paid attention to it at the time.

Now, he stared at the image—himself at seven or eight, standing with his dad in front of Wrigley Field, about to watch the Cubs play.

As he lifted the black frame and turned it over, something caught his eye. The backing was slightly loose.

How did I not notice it before?

With trembling fingers, heart pounding, Ethan pried the corner of the frame.

There, tucked between the backing and the photo was a small, nearly invisible, black key.

23

Kara

Karamadeherwayto the picnic table outside the rescue, watching as the sun sank toward the horizon, streaking the sky with shades of orange and purple. As the light faded, so did her sense of certainty. With a deep breath, she pulled out her phone to call Emma.

“Hey girl!” Emma answered. “How you doing?”

“Em, I told him. I told Ethan about Charlotte.”

“You did? I’m so proud of you!”

“You are?”

“Are you kidding? I know how hard this was for you—honestly, for anyone.”

Kara ran her fingers through her windswept hair. “I mean, I feel relieved, but—what if I’ve made a huge mistake?”

---