Page 76 of Since the Day We Kissed

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Ethan

Ethan’shandliftedtothe back of his neck as his eyes moved between the prescription counter and Kara. “Well,” he began, “after everything that happened, I thought you didn’t want to hear from me again. I thought I was respecting your wishes.”

“Why would you think that?”

He paused, his gaze drifting to Whitaker, standing rigid by the reading glasses display, his reflection warped in the security mirror overhead. The older man’s face was etched with guilt and apprehension. “Because,” Ethan finally managed, his throat tightening with every word. “I was told that you—”

“Kara,” Whitaker’s voice cracked as he stepped toward his daughter, reaching for her hand. “The truth is ... Ethan never called because I made sure he wouldn’t. It was me. All me.”

The confession lingered in the silence, amplified by the surrounding emptiness. Charlotte, who’d been absentmindedly petting Hero beside the greeting cards, straightened up.Ethan blinked, his eyes shifting between Whitaker and Kara.

Kara’s face paled, the color draining from her cheeks in an instant, like a switch had flipped. Her voice came out as a shaky whisper. “All these years I thought ... How could you?”

“I made a lot of mistakes.” Whitaker dropped his head, shaking it slowly from side to side. “And now—now it’s the time to make things right.”

Make things right?

Whitaker looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and glistening. “The day of the accident, after your mother passed, Ethan came by ...” he trailed off.

Kara yanked her hand away as if burned, stumbling back into a shelf of vitamins.

Whitaker flinched, then pressed on. “And I told him you never wanted to see him again, to never come back here again, to—”

“You what?” Kara’s voice shot up. The force of her words seemed to push Whitaker back a step. “What right did you have?!”

“Kara, I—I’m so sorry,” Whitaker stammered, swiping his tears with his sleeves. He turned to Ethan and Charlotte. “I was wrong about you, Ethan. Very wrong. And because of my actions, you two never knew each other.” He hesitated. “No words can change what I did, and it’s unforgivable. Believe me when I say that. Now I realize what I’ve done, and wish I could take it all back, but ...” Whitaker’s mouth opened, but the rest of the sentence never came.

For a long moment, he stood there, as if searching for something more to say.

But nothing came.

With a heavy sigh, his eyes dropped to the floor, then he turned and quietly walked out.

Ethan couldn’t let him leave like that and stepped forward. “Wait, don’t go,” he called after him.

Whitaker stopped mid-step, turning to face him.

Ethan stood still, his heart pounding in his chest. His mind flashed back to all the years he had lost with his father—the words they never spoke. He wouldn’t let history repeat itself. Not this time. “Look,” he began, his voice lower, more controlled, “I’ve lost my family once, and I’m not gonna lose this one too.” Ethan’s gaze moved from Kara to Charlotte, finally resting on Whitaker with quiet resolve.

With deliberate steps, Ethan crossed the room and stopped in front of Kara. He reached for her hand, gently taking it in his. “It’s not gonna be easy, and I know it won’t happen overnight,” he said, his thumbs drawing soft circles over the back of her hand. “But sometimes the best things take time—the kind of time you never thought you’d get back. And we’ve been given that chance. You don’t have to make the same mistake I did with my dad—not if you don’t want to.”

Kara’s eyes, still brimming with tears, met Ethan’s. Then she turned to her father. “I want us to be happy, all of us. But Dad ... It’s gonna take time and work—a lot of both after what you’ve done.”

Ethan blinked hard as tears welled up. He gently pulled Kara into him. With one arm still around her, he extended the other toward Charlotte. “Come here.”

Their daughter moved into the circle without hesitation, nestling between her parents, her head resting against Ethan’s chest. Hero circled them with his tail wagging and nudged his way right into the middle of the embrace, pressing his furry body against their legs, completing the family in his own way.

“Grandpa!” Charlotte called out, turning her head toward him. “What do you say? Are we gonna work through this?”

Whitaker froze, his feet seemingly glued to the floor. His eyes darted between the door—his escape—and the family gathered before him, as if wondering if he deserved a second chance.

In that moment, Ethan saw a piece of his own father in Whitaker—both men trapped by the shadows of their choices. And Ethan knew then, some burdens were too heavy to carry alone. “Whitaker, I know what it’s like to think you’ve lost your family forever. But we’re all here now, and we need you. We’re family—all of us. And family ... family doesn’t give up on each other. Not ever.”

Whitaker’s rigid posture softened, almost imperceptibly. He hesitated before taking a tentative step, then another.

Charlotte, her arm still outstretched, grasped his hand and gave it a tug, pulling him into the group hug.

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