Page 224 of Vows We Never Made

Weighing her options in her head, deciding whether to follow me or let me walk out on my own with my head hanging.

I’m not leaving without her. That’s what she doesn’t know.

If Hattie stays, I stay, too.

This apology is long overdue, and I need to do it now.

I need her to know what’s in my head, even if she won’t reveal what’s in hers.

“Okay,” she says quietly after a heavy second. “I guess Margot wants to make up for causing a scene. Should we buy something?”

“I’m sure she has it covered.”

We both turn to see my sister raiding the pastry case, her earlier venom dissipated. Sugar works miracles on her mood.

That’s my little sister and it’s honestly impressive.

“I think we’re good,” I say.

Hattie doesn’t object as I guide her from the café, stopping by the register to throw a crisp Benjamin in the tip jar.

My fingers burn like hell, hating that they can’t find the small of her back.

I hold back.

That cuts deep, making me think of all the times I touched her without thinking, entitled to her flesh.

Can we ever get back there again?

There’s a small park just up the block from the café and I lead her there, heading for the first bench I find.

The air feels warm and slightly damp.

A typical Boston summer evening like you find up and down the New England coast.

When I left Portland before, I never thought I’d miss it, the coolness and brine in the air.

Even when you can’t see the sea, you still feel it.

Hattie sits next to me hesitantly. All my lofty words knot in my throat.

I clear my throat and keep my eyes on the horizon.

“Thanks for the help back there—and for giving me a chance to talk.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry Cooper went after Blackthorn Holdings,” she says carefully.

“I appreciate you coming to the rescue, but I wanted to—fuck, it’s not Daley I want to waste another second on.” This is more difficult than I imagined. I swallow hard, the lump in my throat sprouting cactus thorns. “Hattie, I need to apologize. For everything.”

“Everything, huh?”

Without even looking at her, I see her fingers twitch on her lap.

“I fucked up. Spectacularly,” I say. “I let the past tie me down, and when I found out about my parents, I lost the last thread of my shit. But these past few weeks, I’ve been a hermit, locked away from the world and drinking myself stupid. The same way I’ve always handled life derailing.”

She stares at me now, her mouth a thin line, tight and hurt and wondering.

“Margot came and shook me out of my stupor, but even before she showed up, I knew I had to wake up. I realized the past can only tie me down if Iletit. Running away wasn’t a reset. It was a retreat, and I can’t do that anymore.”