Page 69 of Since the Day We Kissed

Ethan’s vision clouded as the words twisted into one painful truth: He’d never get the chance to answer his dad.

The letter fell from his grip, drifting to the floor, a weight too heavy for him to hold any longer. His knees buckled beneath him—he sank to the ground—he pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to stop the flood—but the tears came faster, unstoppable. Sobs wracked his body—raw, guttural, coming from a place he hadn’t let himself feel in years.

He hadn’t known how much his father had struggled, or how much he’d longed for forgiveness. And now ...It’s too late and it’s all my fault.The finality of it stole the breath from his lungs, leaving emptiness in its wake.

Save for his thoughts, his father’s words echoed in his mind. The apology. The love. The years of silence and missed chances crushed him, and for the first time, he let it all in. Hugging his arms to his chest, he rocked slightly, as if he could somehow hold himself together while everything inside him fell apart.

Hero came over to Ethan’s side, nudging his arms open and curling into his lap. Ethan took a shaky breath and stroked the dog’s fur, slowing his racing heart until the sobs faded away. He buried his face into Hero’s soft coat, feeling the warmth seep into his skin. At times like this, all he had left was the steady rhythm of Hero’s heartbeat to remind him to keep breathing—and he was grateful for his best friend.

Ethan pushed himself off the floor, his hands trembling as he leaned on the dresser for support. His body felt heavy, like he was wading through thick mud. Wiping his eyes, he looked down at Hero, who watched him in quiet understanding. “I’ll be right back, boy,” Ethan muttered.

Hero didn’t stay behind. He rose and followed closely as Ethan stumbled to the kitchen.

Ethan’s pill bottle was on the counter, right where he had left it. The last pill rattled inside as he unscrewed the cap. His shaky hands trembled as he pulled it out and moved to the sink to grab a glass of water, but just as he reached for the faucet, the pill slipped from his fingers.

Time seemed to slow as he watched it fall, tumbling into the drain before he could react.

“No! No, no!” Ethan frantically reached for the drain, tried to fit his hand into the narrow opening ... but it was no use. He rested his forehead on the cool edge of the counter.

The last pill, gone.

His mind raced as he pulled out his phone.

It was late, and he knew it wasn’t the best time to call Dr. Hartman, but this was an emergency. He sighed and was about to make the call when a new message flashed across the screen. It had been sent earlier that morning.

How’d I miss that?

He opened it and read:

Dr. Hartman:Hi Ethan,

I wanted to apologize for the confusion with your prescription. I was out of town and my assistant accidentally called it in to Walker’s Pharmacy instead of one of the other ones you preferred. By the time I realized, it was already processed. I understand how hard this might be for you, and I completely understand if you’re uncomfortable going there. If you want, I can resend it to a different pharmacy—just let me know where. I’m here to help. Again, I’m really sorry for the inconvenience. Hope to hear from you soon.

“Walker’s, of all places.” Ethan groaned, running a hand through his hair.

His heart sank at the thought of going back there—of facing Whitaker. But maybe Whitaker wouldn’t be working this late. At his age, he was probably done with night shifts, right?

Ethan stared at the message. He could have the prescription sent somewhere else, but that would take time—and he needed it now.

“Looks like we’re going out, boy,” Ethan muttered, reaching for Hero’s leash and clipping it to his collar.

His mind wrestled with the decision as he grabbed his keys.

Just a quick stop, he told himself.In and out.Then he’d be done with it.

25

Kara

Thefamiliarbrassbellabove the door chimed as Kara stepped into the cool air of Walker’s Pharmacy. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the fluorescent lights that buzzed overhead. As her vision cleared, she spotted her father’s stooped figure at the far end, methodically stocking shelves with bottles and boxes. Kara’s gaze swept the store, searching for Charlotte’s face, but her daughter was nowhere to be seen.

Kara began weaving through the aisles toward her father when her eyes caught on a man standing near the front counter, his head down, hands inside his jacket pocket. She noted how his eyes darted around the store, avoiding eye contact as she passed.

The hairs on the back of Kara’s neck stood on end, but she tore her attention away, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand.

“Hey, closing time?” the stranger called out gruffly, his eyes darting between Whitaker and the clock on the wall.

“Half an hour,” Whitaker said, glancing at his watch. “Need help finding something?”

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