Page 56 of The Shift Between Us (Covewood #2)

Ryland leans against the edge of the ring. “So what, you messed up. Don’t we all? But she’ll forgive you. I’m sure of it.”

Ryland is the only person I’ve talked to about Olivia and me. I’m sure the others found out through the ever-growing grapevine that always seems to know everything about everyone in this small town.

“What if I can’t forgive myself?” I grunt, rolling over to my knees and attempting to lift myself up, but exhaustion is finally hitting me.

“You have to,” Zane adds, stepping up to Ryland and turning off his music. Thankfully, the crowd behind them is starting to dissipate now that the fight seems to be over.

“What if the past repeats itself? I’ll lose her…”

Ashton cuts me off, “You’ll lose her if you don’t let this go.”

I didn’t notice Ryland getting into the ring, but he’s standing in front of me now, reaching a hand out for me to take, and helps lift me onto my feet. “What will you choose? Stay living in the past, or finally have a future with the love of your life?”

I can see the hidden truth behind Ryland’s eyes. He’s lived through this before. His past mistakes ended his relationship with Raine, and he lost her for ten years. Witnessing Raine and Ryland today, happily together despite their complicated and painful past, reawakens some hope in me.

If Raine and Ryland can overcome the past and give each other a second chance, so can Olivia and I. I just need to get out of my own way.

“You have to accept the fact that there are things that will never go back to how they used to be. In this case, it could be a good thing for both of you,” Ashton adds, picking up his gloves and exiting the boxing ring.

I give the three of them a nod, silently thanking them for this…very odd…pep talk. Ryland slings an arm around my shoulder and tugs me closer to him.

“Pray about it.”

“I will,” I say, knowing he’s right and that I’m not alone in this fight. I never was.

An hour later, I’m walking into my small cabin, tossing my gym bag onto the floor. This old place doesn’t feel much like a home. It never has.

I reach into the fridge and pull out an Ale-8-One before crashing onto my couch. I reach for the remote to turn on a show I’ll more than likely ignore when my phone rings. I slide my hand into my pocket and see that it’s my grandmother calling me.

“Hey, Nonni,” I greet her, pulling the bottle to my lips and taking a sip of the ginger-citrus carbonated liquid.

“Luke,” her voice trembles with my name, making me sit up straight, preparing for what she’s about to say. “Your father passed away late last night. I’m so sorry for waiting to call you, but it’s been…a lot.”

The second she says the words, everything inside me goes still, as if someone hit pause on the world and forgot to press play again.

Dad is gone.

It isn’t a surprise. I knew it was coming.

The cancer had made that part cruelly certain, but knowing it was inevitable doesn’t make it hurt any less.

If anything, it makes everything feel worse because now I can’t pretend there is more time.

That we’d have another conversation, another chance at mending everything that was broken with us.

There's this strange, heavy ache in my chest. A simmering unfairness that keeps tightening in my throat.

Why now?

Why after we’d finally started to figure it out?

Why couldn’t he have had a little more time?

I’m not sure what to feel, or maybe I’m feeling too much at once. Sadness. Regret. Anger. Guilt. Confusion. They all blur together until I can’t seem to separate one from the other.

I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to rewind the clock. Our time was cut short, and it’s unfair.

“I know it’s last minute, but he mentioned in his medical wishes that he doesn’t want to be embalmed, and so we’re giving him a funeral service tomorrow.”

I’m clenching and unclenching my fists as I let her words sink in.

“Luke?” Nonni’s voice sounds distant, like there’s static between us.

I open my mouth to say something, but the words are trapped inside my throat. I cough away the discomfort, clearing away the tightness as I reply, “Uh, yeah, yeah. I’ll make sure to be there.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she cries, her sniffles snapping me out of whatever trance I was falling into.

“I’m sorry too.” I reply, because what else is there to say?

“I can pack up and head that way within the hour,” I say, standing up and making my way into my bedroom.

“Please be careful,” she says before we end the phone call.

I grab my empty luggage bag and start packing things inside, feeling a strange numbness overcome me. I go into my bathroom and notice the shaking in my hands as I reach for my toothbrush. I lean against the counter, releasing a heavy breath, and bow my head.

“God, I wasn’t ready for this.”

Tears well behind my eyes, and I blink them away.

I look into the mirror above my sink and see the mask of despair that I'm wearing. I’m trying to hold back the mass of emotions building inside me by busying myself.

I grab everything that I’ll need, placing it all into my bag.

I shove all other thoughts and feelings away as I focus on the task at hand: getting back to Indiana.