Page 119 of Where I Should’ve Been

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Breezy

Fingers in Tad’s brown hair and thumb at his pink, tear-drenched lips, I fall into the comfort of his warm eyes and let his words wash over me.

His unbearable grief, his willingly shared love—his declaration that I, somehow, have given him the will to live out loud again.

I don’t feel worthy of the crowning, but I know with every shred of my being I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to live up to it.

Because for as much as Tad thinks I’ve saved him, he’s saved me.

I was whirring through life with little to no regard for any of the parts of it that truly mean something. Love, purpose, joy—I gave them all up for success.

“I don’t know that I’ll ever find the words to express how much it means to me that I’m able to give you your life back.” I cup his cheek in the palm of my hand, and he leans into it. “The words to express my gratitude for you sharing this giant piece of yourself with me—for trusting me with it. The words to tell you just how much I hope Abigail and Lucy and Summer have somehow found company with one another in heaven until the rest of us get there.”

My voice shakes as tears steal its steadiness, but I keep going.

“But Tad, I will spend all of my days trying to find them. I will spend all of my days telling you I love you, thanking Abigail and Lucy for sending you to me, and finding the absolute joy in the privilege of being with you. Because you saved my life too, and baby, I don’t just mean today.”

His lips find my knuckles and then my arm and my cheek and my lips, and then we’re kissing, deep and slow and so soul-exposing, I’d feel it in another universe.

“I love you,” I whisper, breathless and desperate to say it again as soon as he pulls back enough to let me.

“I love you too.”

Pulling gently at his biceps, I direct him up and into the bed with me until we’re hip-to-hip and head-to-head. He intertwines our fingers, rubbing at the backs of my knuckles with the other hand.

“So, from fireman to…sheep farmer?”

He chuckles, a soft sadness metering the tone. “I needed something as far away from my old life as I could think of.”

“And Randy?”

“Left his whole damn life and career in Chicago…” He pauses, shaking his head, and his hair rubs against the side of my cheek. “To follow me to Red Bridge and face the consequences of his actions…saving my life when I didn’t want it saved.” Glancing around, he surveys the room. “Speaking of…where is everyone? Don’t get me wrong. I needed this time with you, but I can’t believe our families willingly gave it.”

“Yeah,” I say, “They…didn’t.”

He sits up, turning to face me. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, they were all here. Randy, Ben, Norah, Logan, Josie, Clay, Pete, Sheila…hell, half the town was here, so much so the doctors were getting touchy. But then…Eileen showed up.”

“You’re kidding. After everything she—”

“Wait. There’s more.” I grimace. “Tad, Eileen had a heart attack.”

“What?”

I nod. “She showed up here, and everyone assumed, naturally, that she’d heard about the fire and was coming to capitalize on our suffering and anxieties. Josie got into her immediately—I didn’t hear everything since it happened out by the main entrance, but I know it wasn’t good. But Eileen’s niece came running in not long after, and…baby, Eileen got so upset when she heard about you and the house, she started having chest pains. She came here to get checked out. I haven’t heard an update in a little while, but they said she had a heart attack.”

“Shit. That’s horrible.”

“I know. Bennett promised he’d come back as soon as they knew something definitive.”

He studies me, worry creasing his face. “And what about you? What are the doctors saying? When I found you, you were unconscious.”

“I passed out,” I admit softly. “After we fought and you left, I took a bath to calm down, but I hadn’t eaten the burger you brought me.” I cringe at my own stupidity. “Hadn’t really eaten much all day, honestly, and when I hopped out of the bath to get my phone from the guestroom, I never made it there. The doctors said the heat of the bath, mixed with not eating and the diversion of blood flow to the baby, is enough to explain why I passed out on the way there.” I shake my head. “I…I didn’t even know the house was on fire until I got here and they told me,” I admit. “Tad, I’m so sorry. I think…I think I left the woodstove open and that’s probably what started it, and—”

“Breeze, it’s okay,” he comforts, and his voice is all warmth and ache and makes a ball of emotion clog my throat. “It’s okay.”