Page 52 of The Fate Philosophy

“A few years ago she went to a Christmas Eve house-party with some of her college friends. She…” he sighed, “she took something. I’m not even sure what, I never paid that much attention to the details.” He physically shook out his shoulders. “Whatever she took had been laced with fentanyl. She overdosed.”

I gasped. I had not been expecting that.

“She didn’t have an addiction problem. At least not that any of us knew of. Her friends insisted that she didn’t do drugs regularly. She likely took a hit of something casually while at the party, not knowing it was laced.” His voice was stern, as if even in death, he felt the need to defend her. “She was rushed to the hospital, but it was too late to save her, and they pronounced her dead in the early hours of Christmas morning.”

“Dom, I’m so sorry.” The words didn’t suffice, but I didn’t know what else to say. Another realization dawned on me as I gathered the courage to look at him then. “When I was in the hospital,” I whispered. “You said you didn’t do well there. You freaked out.”

His eyes were glassy as he looked back at me and nodded. “When Carter called me, he didn’t tell me why you were in the hospital, or if you were okay. My mind immediately went to the call,” he blinked and turned toward the window, “I got from my mom that night. You tell yourself everything is fine. They’ll pull through. That’s what I told myself as I drove to Phoenix in the middle of the night. What I tried telling myself with you. But I know all too well that sometimes itisthe worst possible scenario, and when they wouldn’t tell me what happened to you I...” He shook his head. “I wasn’t there…with Allie.” He glanced at where our hands were still joined. “For the first time in our entire lives, we weren’t spending Christmas together. I just can’t help but think if I had been there, maybe I would’ve been at that partywithher. I could’ve stopped her, or caught her overdose quicker than her friends did. I could’ve saved her.” He ran the pad of this thumb across the back side of my hand.

“You feel guilty and responsible,” I replied. It was a statement. An observation. Not a question, because I was absolutely sure that was the answer. Thewhybehind it all. “So, you punish yourself now by forcing yourself to spend the holidays alone.”

He only shrugged.

“You know that’s not true, right?”

He let out a long sigh, and I noticed him nod just slightly.

“Blaming yourself—bargaining—is part of the grieving process. But you’ve been stuck in that stage of grief for far too long. I think it’s time to move on from it.” I tried smiling at him. “Preferably, since you allowed yourself to wallow in stage three for so many years, maybe we can skip right over depression and graduate you onto acceptance?”

He snorted through his nose. “I’m not sure how to argue with that one.”

“Then don’t.” I smiled softly at him. “I understand why you feel the way you do. I’m positive, if I was in a similar situation, I’d feel the same way.” I looked at him, and didn’t respond until he returned my stare. “I get you. But celebrating the holidays, your birthday—being happy— doesn't mean you’re forgetting about her. Allowing yourself to stop feeling guilty doesn't mean you’re absolving the loss, or the pain that comes with it. Moving forward does not mean the loss is any less heavy, it means you’re learning to live with it.”

The corner of his mouth tilted up slightly, the most he was capable of giving me right now.

“Making the best of your life and choosing to remember who you’ve lost in those moments of happiness is the best way to honor them. I didn’t know Allie, obviously, but if she was anything like you, I’m sure all she would’ve wanted for you was exactly that.”

His hand squeezed mine now. “She would’ve liked you. I know that for certain.”

“Well,you’reobsessed with me, so that would make sense.”

My eyes landed back on the road as traffic began moving forward again. I realized that I was much closer to our exit than I had thought, and was now navigating across four lanes of traffic to get to it. As I tried to focus, I could feel his eyes on me, I could feel his smile, and I couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t correct the joke I made. He didn’t deny it, didn’t even pretend to.

“Thank you… for letting me get all of this out.”

I felt my bottom lip tremble. I couldn’t look at him as I said, “You’re safe with me too, Dom.”

He reached across the center console and placed his hand on my thigh, squeezing lightly.

“Mace?” he asked as I exited the freeway.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?”

My pulse picked up at the softness in his tone. I knew he clearly no longer wanted to be alone, but there was something more in his voice. Something that made me wonder if he hadn’t meant just dinner.

“Of course,” I replied. “But I want to go home and change first. The Disney shirt is a one-time thing for me.” I wasn’t lying, but there was more than one reason I wanted to stop at home before we headed back to his place. This day had opened my eyes to a lot of things that I’d been unwilling to consider yesterday, and I had a feeling Dom was thinking the same thing.

“Why don’t I drop you off at home? Then I’ll take your car to go get some food, I think we just passed a store that looked open. I’ll pick you up when I’m done. I’ll cook.”

I chuckled. “Shouldn’t I be cooking? You’re the birthday boy.”

“I’ve seen the groceries you buy for yourself, Mace. I’m not sure I trust you to cook.”

I laughed, because I couldn’t argue with that.

Chapter 20

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