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SUFFOLK COUNTY, NEW YORK
Improved open and honest communication is one of the key elements to rebuilding trust after it has been broken.
—The Fireside Psychologist
Having a brother-in-law with a private jet makes flying around the country very convenient, I muse as I step off his plane at Long Island MacArthur Airport where there’s a private car waiting to take me the twenty miles to where Fallon’s new home is. While I’m kicked back in the car, I send text.
Ethan:
What are your plans today, witch?
Fallon:
I’ve decided if I unpack another box, I’m going to lose my mind.
Concerned she may not be home when I arrive, I probe for some additional information.
Ethan:
Are you heading to the beach?
Fallon:
Right now, I have no intention of leaving my bed.
Fallon:
Not until I decide I want food.
Fallon:
Then I’ll DoorDash something.
Fallon:
What about you?
Fallon:
How have things been in Texas?
God, even after everything, she still gives enough of a damn to worry about the demons I confronted. It just causes me to realize I’ll never fully shed the guilt for the pain I put her through. And that’s okay. After all, the sting, the ache of knowing what I’ve still yet to earn back gives me the motivation to cherish it. Because I know if Fallon gives me a second chance, I won’t let anything come between us—not a job, not our families. Nothing. Replying back to her, I give her the truth, I just don’t tell her where I am.
Closer than she may be ready for.
Ethan:
Driving at the moment.
Ethan:
Why don’t you let me order you something.
Ethan:
You know—a welcome to the house lunch.
Fallon: