“I hated her, Easton.” It burst from my mouth like a grenade that had been detonated two years before and only now exploded. “I hated her,” I said, my voice choked with tears. “I kept waiting for her to be more, to do better, for us, and she never would.”
“I know,” he said. “I know, Haven. But you loved her too, and that’s the worst part. It’s time for us both to let it go now though. We have to try.”
I nodded miserably. I had loved her. Deeply. And though she couldn’t care for me, I’d tried to care for her. And it’d never mattered.
Sometimes I wondered if I had a form of PTSD.
Maybe from the fire. From seeing our mother dead—the reality of a lifetime of fearing just that.
Maybe just from our life.
The incessant struggle, the hurt, the never-ending trying that didn’t seem to amount to much. Maybe I’d thought if I could have just saved her it all would have been worthwhile. But I couldn’t. Perhaps nobody could have. And I had to start accepting that and letting myself off the hook if I was ever going to be truly happy. If I was ever going to stop running.
“I’m afraid,” I admitted. “Anyone I hoped would love me left. Eventually, they always did.”
So how did I start trusting now?
Maybe by believing in myself.
By trusting a man I believed might be trustworthy.
Easton reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing. “I’m not leaving,” he said. “You’re stuck with me for life.”
And then my little brother opened his arms and I fell forward, face-planting into his chest and grasping the fabric of his shirt in my fist, holding on to what felt solid. Easton held me as I cried, releasing some of the long-held pain and the deeply lodged fear.
Finally.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Haven
A buzz of voices welcomed us as we pulled the door to the town hall open. A few heads turned, some smiled, some looked mildly curious as they sipped from Styrofoam cups. I took a deep breath of the air redolent with coffee and baked goods, running my hands over my thighs. “Come on,” Easton said, leading me toward the table where three large silver urns sat beside platters of cookies and baked goods.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked under my breath.
Easton picked up a donut, taking a big, sugary bite and not bothering to chew or swallow before answering, “Yesh.” He paused, gulped. “The Pelion firehouse guys will all be here. There’s the captain right over there,” he said, lifting his chin and giving a small wave to the stern-looking man near the stage. The man gave a head nod in acknowledgment. “Might as well jump right in if we’re going to join this community.”
Easton moved from one foot to the other. His tell. He was nervous. He’d never admit it but he wanted to be accepted. He’d always been the odd man out, the kid who couldn’t invite others over.
The one whose mother never showed.
The one who’d waited anyway.
He deserved this. To make friends. To be accepted.
I was doing this for him. But I was also doing this for me. My nerves felt frayed, heart quickening with both excitement—hope—and trepidation. It had been two long years, and I was about to take my first big risk.
You can do this. It’s time.
I helped myself to a cup of coffee, sipping tentatively at the scalding liquid. All the seats were taken, but Easton and I stood against the back wall, watching as the community members chatted and laughed, enjoying each other.
You can be part of this. That hope soared in my chest again, and yes, fear accompanied it, but wouldn’t that always be the case? Easton was right. I couldn’t wait for the doubt to disappear entirely, because that might never happen. I had to make the choice to embrace it and lean in to what I wanted, despite the worry.
I deserved to have dreams.
And how would they ever come true if I wasn’t willing to stop, face my past, and then move on, unencumbered, into my future?
And I wouldn’t be doing it alone.
My heart gave a jolt and then soared as Travis came into view, standing near the low stage, taking a stack of papers from a younger man who was also wearing a police uniform. Travis took a portion of the stack of papers off the top and handed them to a short, slender woman with a brunette bob haircut who began handing them to the people at the end of each row to pass down to the others.
For several minutes I simply watched him in his element, listening as people passed by and said a word or two, laughing along with them, squeezing one man’s shoulder, and patting him on the back as he gave Travis a grateful look and walked away.