Page 19 of Could Have Been Us
I should’ve stayed in Willow Creek.
I exit the funeral home, drawing shallow breaths as I move quickly but not so fast that I draw attention, and get into my car.
Keeping my eyes down, I start it, and then as I pull out, I see her standing there watching me, and I leave her again, hating myself even more.
Chapter 6
Jack
The woods usually offer me peace from my thoughts, but this trip has been hell. Twelve days out there did nothing to quiet the chaos in my head.
I wondered, worried, wished to call her, but I couldn’t. There is no reception where I take these people. If they could get ahold of someone, then the entire point of a survival trip would be moot.
So, I also endured the struggle.
I wash away the dirt that seems embedded in my skin, scrubbing and trying to get clean, all while debating whether I should’ve gone to see Stella first.
Once clean, I drive over to her loft, climbing the steps two at a time, not wanting to waste another second.
She opens the door, surprise in her eyes. “What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?”
Stella sighs deeply and takes a step back as the door opens wider. Stella’s house is warm. That’s the word that always surrounded her anyway. It’s vanilla and cookies and campfires. She’s the comfort when everything is a mess, and still, she’s not for me.
“What’s wrong?” Her voice is distant, showing me her hurt.
“Nothing. I came to check on you.”
I’ve thought of little else since she left that night. I’ve wondered if going had hurt her. If she saw ourdaughter. All of this went around in my head, hating that she was there. That she might get to look at her, hug her, talk to her. Just that thought makes me clench my fists, needing to control the emotions that build because I don’t have a right to be jealous. I made my choice to erase Kinsley from my mind in order to fucking breathe.
She swallows and then turns from me. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
She whips around, eyes blazing. “Of course I’m not. You’ve been gone! Gone again. And I’m . . .”
“You’re what?”
Her lip trembles, and my fucking heart breaks. “Stella?”
“Samuel just called.”
“What did he say?”
“He’s struggling. He’s alone with a little girl who wants to know who her birth parents are.”
I don’t say a word, mostly because I’m not sure what the hell to say. “How did they handle it before?”
“Misty never said, but she saw me, Jack. She looked into my eyes and . . . God, she saw me, and I ran.”
There’s shame in her eyes, and I wish I could take it away from her. “I’m sorry, Stella. I’m sorry for all of it.”
I never should’ve touched her that night. I’ve apologized countless times, and it still isn’t enough. Stella wouldn’t have had to bear the fallout from it. Every conversation with her parents. Every appointment I missed because I was stuck in college and couldn’t be there. Then she was sent away to live with her grandmother while she waited to give birth.
I haven’t suffered even a quarter of what she has. And I’m so fucking sorry for it.
Stella rubs her face, moving away. “She’s beautiful.”
