Page 50 of Finding Home

“She didn’t want me in her child’s life out of the gate, remember?”

“Because you demanded she get an abortion! And when she said no to that, you made it abundantly clear you wanted nothing to do with the baby. So, of course, she agreed that was for the best. But trust me, if she thought for a second you’d had a change of heart, or even that there was a possibility of you having one, Claudia would have jumped on the firstflight to LA.”

I understand Aubrey now wants to think of her best friend as some kind of a saint. It’s understandable, in light of her premature departure from this world. But once she sees the email exchange, I think she’ll realize Claudia wasn’t quite as perfect as Aubrey believes.

“Here it is.” After locating the emails, I hand my phone to Aubrey to read them.

For a long moment, Aubrey stares at my screen with tears in her eyes. When she finally looks up from my phone, she’s pale. Like she’s seen a ghost. “There’s no way Claudia wanted to write that reply to you. I don’t know if her mother or boyfriend influenced her to write that to you, but the Claudia I knew never would have sent that response. At the very least, she would have let your mother meet Raine. Of that much, I’m sure.”

I take the phone back and set it down next to me on the yoga mat. Poor Aubrey. This must be a tough pill to swallow. Clearly, Claudia didn’t want to look like a cold-hearted bitch to Aubrey. And I can’t blame her for that. Aubrey is such a warm, loving person, I also want her to think highly of me. “Either way,” I murmur, “the end result is the same. My mother died without knowing she had a grandchild, and it’s all my fucking fault.”

“Was that the only time you contacted Claudia?”

“I tried again a couple months later, after my mom’s health took a sharp turn, and found out Claudia had blocked me. Not only my email address, but on social media, too. I should have created a new email address and tried again, or maybe hopped a flight and begged Claudia in person, but my mother was in bad shape, and I wasn’t in the right headspace to take that on. I thought I still had plenty of time to try again later, once my mom got better. But unfortunately . . . ”I look out at the lake. “She never got better.”

Aubrey places a hand on my back. “I owe you an apology. This whole time, I’ve been thinking you never gave a fuck about Raine. Never asked to meet her. Never even asked for a photo or update. I misjudged you. I’m sorry.”

Her apology, our proximity. Her touch on my back. It’s all filling me with the thumping desire—theneed—to lean into her and kiss her. But since that’s not an option, I swallow hard and whisper, “You might as well keep thinking the worst of me. One pathetic email doesn’t change the fact that I wasn’t there for my child. For all her firsts. That’s something I’ll have to live with forever.”

Aubrey rubs my back. “Raine is only two. She’s still going to have lots of firsts, and you’ll be there for all of them.”

I bow my head, too overcome to speak. I didn’t expect the conversation to take this turn. I’m overwhelmed.

“Don’t beat yourself up too much,” she whispers softly. “Only a tiny bit.” I glance at her to find her smiling. “Honey, Raine won’t start logging long-term memories for another three or four years. Soon, she won’t even remember a time before Coobie—Dadda—came into her life.”

I smile through my emotion, and she rubs my back again.

“When she called me Dadda, it was the best moment of my life.”

“One of the best of mine, too. Once my mother told me it was all for the best.”

My eyes drift longingly to Aubrey’s lips. I want to kiss this woman more than I want to breathe. More than I want a drink or to play drums. More even, than I want mysolitude and freedom. But, of course, I don’t act on the impulse; but instead, resolve to do the thing my counselor, Gina, instructed me to do: tell Aubrey the truth about last night.

“You were right to take my keys away last night,” I whisper. “I was planning to sneak off and drive to Billings.”

Aubrey frowns. “I had a feeling.” She swats at my shoulder. “Don’t you know that would have been catastrophic?”

“I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“I would have had to report you! You would have had to go back to square one at rehab.”

“I know.

“And then, who knows if the judge?—”

“Aubrey, I know. I didn’t tell you to get yelled at. I told you to let you know you kept me from self-sabotaging last night, like I always do. I told you, so I can thank you for saving me from myself. So you know, even if you feel like you’re faking being a kickass sobriety coach, you’re doing one hell of a job.”

Her cheeks bloom. “I only want to help you.”

“I know, and I’m grateful for it.”

My lips are mere inches from hers, as we sit, shoulder to shoulder on the yoga mat, facing the lake. But a promise is a promise. From this day forward, I’m hereby committed to my word being my bond, no matter what. That’s going to be my commitment, whenever I give my word; but it’s going to be especially true when I give it to Aubrey Capshaw.

Aubrey bumps her shoulder against mine and grins. “I can’t believe you almost did that.”

“I’m a dumbshit. What can I say?”

Before she replies, the sound of a car traversing the gravel next to the house causes both of us to turn our headsto look. It’s Aubrey’s mother, Barbara, parking her car on the side of the house. When she stops, Barbara swings open her car door and pops her head out, her face beaming.

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