Page 87 of Caden & Theo

“You sound distracted,” she says, not missing a beat.

“Been a long day.”

“Reunion chaos?”

“Something like that.” I pause. “Caden’s in town.”

The silence on the other end stretches. It’s not awkward, but it’s layered. She knowseverything. Not just that Caden and I were best friends, but that we were each other’sfirsts. First love, first everything. She knows how we mapped out our lives around each other. She knows I was behind the wheel that night. That I was the one who walked away while he nearly didn’t. And she knows how completely I fell apart when he told me not to come back.

“You thinking about seeing him?” she asks softly. There’s no judgment in her tone. It’s more like she’s just gently peeling back the lid on a box we both know is full of sharp fragments.

“I don’t know,” I say, turning onto Silvester Street. “Part of me thinks it might be easier to just… rip the Band-Aid off.” I echo my earlier thoughts, hoping she’ll tell me what I need to do.

“To protect your heart or to punish yourself?” she asks. It’s gentle, but it cuts clean.

I flinch. “Ma….”

She exhales. “I know, baby. I know this is hard. But after everything that happened and how long you’ve carried this, don’t you think it’s okay towait? See what he wants first?”

“I could just swing by the B&B, say hi. Pretend it’s not a big deal.”

“But itisa big deal,” she says. “You don’t have to pretend with me. Not after all this time.”

I swallow. “It’s just… fifteen years, Ma. I haven’t seen him since that hospital room. Since he told me to go and not come back.”

“I remember,” she says, her voice tight with memory. “You came home and didn’t speak for three days. You looked like someone had pulled the sun out of the sky.”

I blink hard, the road blurring for a second.

“Theo, listen to me. If he’s here, it means something. He knew you’d be at the reunion. He’s not showing up by accident.”

“You think?” My voice cracks more than I want it to.

“Iknow,” she says. “And I know you. You’ve lived fifteen years like you were waiting for a door to open that never did. Maybe this is it. But not tonight. Let tomorrow be what it’s going to be.”

I nod, even though she can’t see it. “You’re right.”

“I’malwaysright,” she teases gently. Then her tone softens. “But seriously, baby… don’t let this shake you so hard, you forget how far you’ve come. You’ve built a life. A good one. You deserve to live in it fully.”

I smile, a tired curl of my mouth. “You’re not supposed to be this wise, you know.”

“I’ve had thirty-seven years to practice. And I got front row seats to your heartbreak. I’ve earned a little wisdom.”

We talk for a few more minutes—about nothing important. Her baking. My dad refusing to take vitamins. A new stray cat she’s named Socks despite it being jet-black and thoroughly sockless.

But as I pull onto my street, her voice fades into the background. Because a car I don’t recognize is parked in front of my house.

I glance at the plate. It’s a rental.

My breath stutters.

I say goodbye, hit End Call, and then pull into my driveway, the sound of gravel crunching under my tires loud in the stillness.

I barely get the truck into Park before the other car door opens.

And time halts.

Caden steps out at the same time I do.