‘We were meant to be forever. I’m so, so sorry. It was all my fault.’
There was water on his cheek. He moved his fingers up to brush it off and felt more tears slowly streaming down. His hand dropped, letting them flow.
He remembered the evening when Tamara’s father hadcalled him and told him that Tamara was taken. Hunter didn’t understand – had someone kidnapped her? Was she hurt? What did Hal mean bytaken? So, Hal told him.
How a drunk truck driver had swerved into the incoming traffic lane. He had fallen asleep behind the wheel. Head-on collision. Tamara had died at the scene.
But why was she on Route 45 to begin with?Hunter didn’t understand.
She was driving down to surprise you, Hal replied.
A seven-hour drive. Over four hundred miles. All because he had cancelled his visit to Tulsa the weekend before.
She told us she missed you so much and she thought she’d go for the weekend. She was meant to text us when she got there.
It happened just outside Centerville. She had almost made it to College Station.
Almost.
The guilt had hit him with a crashing force as soon as Hal hung up. He wasn’t driving that truck, but he was the reason she was in that car on that route on that day. He hated himself for it. How could he ever deserve happiness again after this?
Five years was a long time and, logically, Hunter knew it wasn’t his fault. But deep down, the guilt was still there. Lurking in the shadows of the darkest parts of his mind. The only reason he hadn’t seen her the previous weekend was because he was too hungover from a fraternity party the night before. Which was no excuse at all.
He sighed. Slowly, he leaned forward and put the photo next to the headstone. There was a small heart formed from seashells and stones at its base.Probably something Tamara’s young cousins did, he thought. Instinctively, he lifted the biggest seashell and put it over the photo, anchoring it in place.
‘I … I met someone. And although it probably won’t work out, for the first time since you … since you—’ His voice broke again, and he impatiently wiped his eyes with his jacket sleeve.
He couldn’t finish that thought.
He inhaled deeply and moved on. ‘I care about her. It scares the hell out of me because I only ever cared about you and … Well, it’s just … complicated. And I know I’m a fool and if you saw me now, I’m sure you’d get a right kick out of it. But you’re the one who told me I was a hopeless romantic. Maybe I hid this part of myself for too long, and now it’s like the floodgates of idiocy have opened. Who knows.’
Hunter stopped, realising he had said all he wanted to say. He started looking over the remaining photos from the box.
So many memories.
So many life-changing events.
So many firsts.
So many smiles.
One immense loss.
When Hunter finally got up, the winter sun was already up in its daytime position. He looked up at it and nodded, like greeting an old friend. Or saying goodbye to one.
He looked back at the headstone. There were no more tears left in him.
Walking back to his truck with the box in his hand one photo lighter, he felt different. More resigned than peaceful, but at the same time he knew he had to let himself keep on living.
If just over four months was all the time he had left with Caroline, he didn’t want to waste it. His heart was already stuffed with suffocating regret. He had promised his father he’d try opening himself up again. Even if it meant getting hurt.
Maybe the cosmic forces would align and somehow it could work out. Maybe he could move to Scotland, at some point – he had liked it there a lot. Maybe the universe would decide he had suffered enough and had some goodness coming his way.
Or maybe he was just a hopeful fool. Either way, he was done denying how he felt. If he stripped all the confusion and confounding factors away, layer by layer, all it really boiled down to were three words.
He loved her.
And he was going to tell her, when the time was right.