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I dreamed of her again last night.

It’s been happening more and more. Maybe because the end of my marriage is in sight—another ending that doesn’t seem to make its way into my dreams the way the end with Tessa does.

I didn’t think there was much more of me to break, but Savannah is trying her hardest.

When my phone notifies me that my mother is calling early Wednesday morning before I even leave for practice, I have a feeling it’s bad news.

“Good morning, Mother,” I answer sleepily, and she chuckles at my tone.

“Hey baby boy. You doing okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, I’m doing okay. You?”

“Dad and I are fine here. But listen, I have some bad news. Mr. Taylor had a fatal heart attack yesterday. The funeral is Tuesday. I just wanted to let you know.” She clears her throat and adds one more thing as an afterthought. “Janet said Tessa will be coming in.”

My chest tightens at the mention of her name.

I haven’t seen her since the day she left.

It’s been a long time. Last I heard, she had moved on with her life, too.

She was dating some guy and was a nurse practicing in Chicago—things my mother told me that were part of what pushed me into marrying my horrible wife.

I wonder if she’s still seeing the same guy.

I wonder if she and her dad were close or not when he passed. Whether she’ll need a shoulder to lean on or if she’ll have that guy with her, holding her hand and comforting her when it should be me. It always should have been me, but then she disappeared and I moved in the only direction I knew how.

“Oh,” I say quietly.

“Isn’t Tuesday your day off?”

“Yeah,” I admit. I could fly in for the funeral and fly right back. I don’t even need to stay the whole day—just a few hours on a plane to O’Hare, two and a half hours in the car, an hour or two visiting, and then reverse it all back to Vegas. It’ll be a lot and could affect my performance Sunday, or maybe it won’t and going home is exactly what I need. I could spend the entire time reviewing film and nobody will even know I left town…except I’m sure I’ll tell Coach. Surely he’d understand the need to attend the funeral of a close family friend.

My mom and Tessa’s mom are close. Our dads were close, too. I think about how tough this will be on him. Bill Taylor was his golfing buddy. I want to be there for my dad. If I had time, I’d even hit the greens with him…but I won’t have time until the season is over. Maybe a good reason to head home for the off season, I guess.

And if I’m being perfectly honest, I want to be there for her , too. I want to see her. I want to give her a hug and let her know I’m thinking about her. Still. All these years later.

That she still holds my heart.

Although her father’s funeral hardly seems like the right time to make that particular confession.

Still, I should be there, even if it’s just a few hours. Bill was practically like a second father to me back in the day, and even though I haven’t seen him since I left Fallon Ridge, he deserves my final respects.

“I’ll talk to Coach, but I’ll do what I can to be there,” I say.

“Thanks, kiddo. I can’t wait to see you.”

I’d considered heading home for the off-season, but that’s still five months away. There weren’t any guarantees I’d see her, anyway. But this time…it’s likely I will.

And I’m not exactly sure how to feel about that. We won’t have time, and it won’t be the right setting…but there’s always the possibility. Doors that were closed too many years ago might open again, and right now that feels like quite a comfort.

Still, as I hang up the call with my mom, a conversation I had with Bill Taylor flashes through my mind.

To this day, something feels off about the whole thing. Hindsight tells me I should have dug deeper. I should have gotten to the truth. So much time has passed now, surely I deserve to know what really happened.

I wonder if I’ll finally get some answers—maybe not this weekend, but if we can exchange numbers and find time to have a conversation...

Because the story they told me just doesn’t hold up. I was too young, too dumb, too scared to ask more questions when I was eighteen. I was heading to college where my life would become the game. I didn’t have many options spread out in front of me.

It’s not like I have options now, either, but at least I’m not as young. I’m not as dumb. And I’m certainly not scared anymore. What’s there to be scared of when I’ve already lost everything?

Her parents had surprised her with a trip to visit her aunt over spring break.

She didn’t return when the week was over.

“It’s over, Tristan. She loves you, but we found a great high school that introduces the nursing program she’ll be attending near her aunt in Chicago and she decided to finish her high school credits there,” Bill said.

“But she didn’t say goodbye,” I protested. I knew her better than anybody else. We’d pledged our love to one another. She wore a promise ring that said we were committed to each other and someday in the future, we’d vow forever to only each other. They weren’t empty promises. Not to me. “There’s no way she would have left without saying goodbye.” Tears spilled down my cheeks as I showed my age. Did I blow it? Did I say something or do something that pushed her away? I needed answers, but I had no one to ask those questions to.

“I’m sorry, son, but she did.” His eyes were hard, and he had this intimidating presence about him that told me it wasn’t okay to ask questions.

And so I didn’t ask questions.

Instead, I sat in my room and listened to nineties grunge since she always had a strange affinity for it, and while REM and Stone Temple Pilots and Pearl Jam played on shuffle, I lifted weights. I did sit-ups and push-ups.

I got fucking ripped.

And then I left for college all the while wondering whether Mr. Taylor was telling me the truth and when she’d come back home or try to get in touch.

I’m still wondering that nearly seven long years later. And maybe this Tuesday I’ll finally learn what really happened.