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I arranged for another deputy to continue coordinating the remaining witness interviews and made sure the scene was left in the proper hands and that they wouldn’t ticket Max’s car for being left overnight. Then I drove Max to his grandmother’s old house, the place he’d made his own. The familiar route brought back memories I hadn’t invited: the roads we’d traveled as teenagers, the places where we’d parked to talk, and the turnoffs that had once seemed to lead toward a future we would share. I kept my attention on the road and let the silence sit between us.

At the house, we settled in, and I took Max’s formal statement, recording what he’d observed and clarifying the details he’d already given me. I made sure to distinguish what he’d witnessed directly from what he’d inferred. He confirmed that he’d seen Harvey talking with someone from the festival committee earlier in the evening, then noticed him checking his watch and disappearing behind the temporary structure. He couldn’t tell me whom Harvey had expected to meet or whether the person Ricky had seen near the committee tent was connected to him.

I didn’t ask Max to repeat the same answers he’d already given me at the scene. Instead, I checked the sequence of events and recorded the details we’d need to compare with other witness statements. Max answered carefully, and I could see him working to give me facts rather than guesses. I appreciated that. It was one of the things I’d always admired about him, even when we were young: he could be emotional without letting that emotion decide what he believed to be true.

When the statement was complete, I put my notebook away. The official part of the evening was finished, at least for now, but I didn’t get up to leave.

Max watched me, his expression guarded. “Is there something else?”

“Yes.” I drew a slow breath, trying to find a way to begin without turning the truth into another excuse. “There’s something I should have told you a long time ago. Something I owe you an explanation for.”

His eyes stayed on mine, and I felt the weight of all the years I’d spent avoiding this conversation. I’d told myself I was protecting him when I left, that I was sparing him the uncertainty of a military life that might take us from one base to another. The truth was uglier. I’d been afraid to ask him to share an uncertain future with me, so I’d made the decision for both of us and called it consideration.

“I want to talk about why I left,” I said. “Why I walked away without giving you a choice.”

Max went very still. For a moment, I thought he might tell me to get out. I wouldn’t have blamed him. Instead, he took a slow breath and looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “I’ll listen.”

I drew my hands together and looked at the man I’d loved for most of my life, drew in a deep breath, and began.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE EXPLANATION

Max

I sat and waited for him to begin. What he said next was not what I'd expected.

“I was scared.”

Josiah's hands were clasped between his knees. He stared down at them for a moment before looking at me, his expression so serious that I almost wished he'd started with something easier to hear.

“Scared of what?” I asked, although part of me already knew.

“Of leaving. Of joining the Air Force. Of what my life was going to look like, and whether I'd be any good at it.” He rubbed his thumb across one knuckle. “I knew I wanted to enlist, but I didn't know what would happen once I did. I didn't know where they'd send me, how often I'd move, or how long it would take before I could settle into anything resembling a normal life.”

I shifted in my chair, keeping my hands wrapped around the arms. “We could have talked about that.”

“I know.”

“We'd been together for years, Josiah. We were talking about getting a place together. We were making plans.”

“I remember.”

“Then why didn't you talk to me?”

His jaw tightened. For a few seconds, he looked as though he might try to find a gentler answer, but he finally shook his head.

“Because I was twenty, and I was an idiot who thought being afraid meant I had to make the decision before anyone else could influence it.”

“That doesn't explain why you left without telling me.”

“No. It doesn't.” He drew a breath that seemed to catch somewhere in his chest. “I thought joining up would give me financial security. A steady paycheck, benefits, a career I could build on. I thought it would take some of the uncertainty out of our future. But I'd have been trading one kind of uncertainty for others. I couldn't know where I'd be posted, how often I'd have to move, or what kind of life we'd be able to build around that.”

He looked down again, his fingers tightening together.

“Then I convinced myself you probably wouldn't want to follow me from base to base. I imagined you leaving your friends, your family, everything familiar, and trying to build a life wherever the Air Force sent me. I told myself that wouldn't be fair to you.”