Since You Happened by Holly Hall
Chapter 27
June
I walk out of a side door of the hospital, my feet aching with every haggard step I take. I feel like all I did during my shift was run around like a chicken with my head cut off, doing everything I could to keep up with my workload while never actually accomplishing anything. My wits are spread so thin that it’s only when I’m about ten feet from my car that I notice there’s a person leaning against the driver’s side door. My heart leaps into action, pounding a frantic beat in my chest when I recognize that caramel-colored hair. For a moment he looks like he could be asleep, but his eyes snap open when my keys jingle in my hands.
“What are you doing here, Farrar?” I somehow manage to ask, adjusting my purse on my shoulder. A wry smile crosses his face, and I think my heart might just gallop out of my chest. I thought I missed him before, but the amount seems unfathomable now that he’s here within reach. His face is so achingly familiar; those warm topaz eyes bearing into mine.
“I was lured here by the prospect of free coffee,” he says, his voice deep and rich and caressing every place in me where darkness has lingered in the past months.
I steel myself against the wave of familiarity that threatens to pull me under like a riptide, shading my eyes with my hand. I need to keep a clear head so I don’t do anything rash. Landon squints at the ground, looking a little haggard as he stretches his arms over his head. How long has he been here?
“Take it from me, the coffee is shit. You would do better to drink pond water,” I finally say, my voice sounding wary. I click the button to unlock my car door and send the message that although I would like an explanation for his disappearing act, I’m also ready to get home and soak my feet in the tub.
When I look back at him, I see that he’s watching me.
“Can we go somewhere and talk?” he asks. I wait a few beats, combing through his words. This “talk” could either go really well, or really bad, but what do I have to lose? I give an almost imperceptible nod, and he returns it with a tight smile. Neither of us are finding this easy.
“I’ll meet you at my place,” I say. I don’t trust myself to keep my emotions in check in any other setting, and right now, public humiliation is not at the top of my bucket list.
I assume his car is here, but I don’t stop to ask. I just edge around him and get into my own car. If it’s not, I’m sure he won’t object to buying a bus ticket or walking. Besides, my own vehicle would be too crowded with him and me and all the words we haven’t said.
I drive to my apartment, my heart pulsating in my throat. He arrives soon after me, and we both walk through the door from the garage to the fourth floor, keeping a farther-than-normal distance between us. The silence only seems to expand inside my apartment, interrupted only when I set my purse and keys on the entry table, and I retreat into the kitchen to brew some coffee. I think we’ll both need it, and it’s far better than what the hospital has to offer. You would think that stressed out, grieving people deserve better coffee. Landon occupies a place on the other side of the bar, beside the stools, but he doesn’t sit down. I keep my eyes on anything but him. It’s so strange to have him back in the place that’s only been occupied by me and my sorrow for the past six months.
“I’m just going to change really quick,” I mention, walking into my room and closing the door most of the way behind me. It’s strange to feel so ill-at-ease around someone I was once intimate with. With shaky hands, I peel off my dirty scrubs, replacing them with a loose t-shirt and leggings. I dump my soiled clothes into the wash on the way back to the kitchen.
“You decorated,” Landon comments halfheartedly when I return. I follow his gaze to my curtains, wondering if we’re really going to discuss home décor.
“I did. It was time to make this place feel like home.”
I place a mug of steaming coffee in front of him, and he takes a careful sip before he speaks again. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here, and if not, you’re probably wondering why it took me so damn long to show up,” he begins, his eyes on me. I finally meet them and see that his are full of regret. “Do you want to talk?”
Do I want to talk? I’ve envisioned this happening for months; hoped for it, even. But I didn’t think we would actually arrive at this day. I thought Landon would be disgusted with me for what I had involuntarily been a part of. I thought he wouldn’t even be able to look at me. The unexpectedness has caught me so off guard that my throat has gone dry. It makes a rasping sound when I clear it.
“Yeah,” I finally manage.
Landon inhales and exhales sharply, as though he’s been preparing for this for a long time. “Look, I first want to say that I’m sorry for leaving the way I did. You deserved to explain your side of the story, and to know that the accident wasn’t your fault. I know you don’t need me to say that, but it’s important to me that you know I don’t feel that way.”
I chew on my lip, unsure of what to think. Any anger I had stemmed from those two things: that I didn’t get to explain myself, and that I thought yet another person blamed me for the accident. And just like that, he’s addressed those negative feelings. Without them, I feel deflated and wobbly, as though my anger and hurt were the only things propping up my resolve.
“For you to even begin to understand why I reacted the way I did, and where I’m coming from, you should first know that I’ve lived these past four years thinking I didn’t deserve anything remotely good after Grace died. And I didn’t think it would be worth it to let myself get close to anyone again if it could all end like that. Then you showed up.” His eyes get that faraway look someone gets when they reflect on a long lost memory. “You were the first person to really call me out on my shit, to challenge me, to make me feel something again. It was terrifying and . . . exhilarating, all at the same time.” He pauses to gather his thoughts, and I find myself nodding in agreement to that last part. Maybe that’s what made our short relationship seem like so much more.
“Part of me thought it was too good to be true, but it was easy to forget that fear every time I saw you. You made me fess up to things I hadn’t admitted to anyone, and that felt freeing, in a way. I had carried everything by myself for so long, but you made me feel like I didn’t have to deal with it alone.
“Then, that day when everything came to a head, I saw everything crumbling beneath me again. You have no idea what it felt like to learn that we were connected in that way, that you had shared those final moments of Grace’s life and you hadn’t told me about it. It was like fate was playing yet another trick on me, putting this amazing woman into my life only to show me that things aren’t always what they seem.”
I study him for a few seconds before abandoning my own coffee mug and rounding the counter to sink down onto the couch. This day is testing my strength. “I haven’t heard from you in six months,” I finally say, after I’ve turned over each of his words in my mind.
“I know. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to give you the explanation you deserve.”
My exhalation sounds more like a scoff. Getting him to answer one question during the time we were together was difficult enough, and he disappeared for half a year without a word, so it’s a little hard to believe that he’s now willing to explain everything. “What took you so long?”
He regards the floor seriously for a moment before answering. “What happened between us almost felt like a test. It made me realize I had a lot of work to do on myself before I even attempted to focus on a personal relationship. I’m sorry it took me so long, and I know I can’t ever make you forget what happened, but please hear me out.” He seems sincere, so I nod my assent.
“I think it’s best to start at the beginning; I never did tell you enough about me. Once my career began to ramp up around eight years ago, I was sent to travel around the world to shoot at places most people can’t even access. I went to the most exotic locations, partied at the most exclusive locales after the work was done. It was a drug to a guy like me. Then this girl came along. I could tell from the beginning she was completely out of my league, and not just in the physical sense. She was kind and generous and beautiful; kryptonite to a guy who swore he wouldn’t settle down until he had accomplished all that he had set out to. I knew from the start I could marry her, knowing full well I hadn’t done anything to deserve her.
“We dated for a year before we got engaged, and life somehow kept getting better. I knew I was nothing like her—could never hope to reach that level of goodness in all the years I spent on Earth—but for some reason, she stuck by me. I realized if I couldn’t be as gracious and good as her, I could at least protect her. Turns out I couldn’t even do that.” His voice cracks on that last word, and he looks down at the carpet, taking a moment to clear his throat and gather himself. “I couldn’t stop the car that slid into us, and I couldn’t change the path of ours.” For the first time, I see tears shining in his eyes, and he pinches the bridge of his nose for a few seconds. He then shakes his head, as though that will be enough to rid himself of the sudden emotion.
“I lost consciousness, but I remember being pulled from the vehicle and seeing her there. Besides a little bit of blood on her temple, she looked so damn peaceful, and I just fucking lost it. I knew she was gone far before anyone told me, but I couldn’t help but ask why. How could someone like that be here one minute and gone the next?” I feel a tear crest my lashes and spill down my cheek, and I mourn his lost love right along with him.
“We were supposed to get married that December. December came and went, and I just remember asking God that same question on repeat: why even give me a glimpse of this amazing person, this incredible future we could have, only to snatch it all away? I thought I could figure it out, that life would get better if I did. I blamed her death on all my discrepancies and shortcomings in life. On my greed and self-righteousness. A year came and went, then two years, and I was just as miserable as the days immediately after it happened. It wasn’t until I found that book in her things that I thought I had discovered what my purpose was. I opened the bookstore, and I knew Grace would’ve done something with the profit other than keep it all for herself, so I decided to donate it every month.
“Even after she was gone, her graciousness is what everyone remembered most about her, so I named the shop after her. I thought that I could keep some small part of her close to me in that way.” His eyes drag from the carpet up to mine, and he blinks a couple times. “I know this is long-winded, but I swear I’ll get to the point.”
All I can do is nod. I’m not used to hearing so much truth from him.
“I thought I was living the way that I should be, but I still felt empty. I reconciled that by thinking I didn’t deserve to feel anything else again after losing her. Then you came into my shop—into my life—like a whirlwind, refusing to tiptoe around me, seeming like you had me all figured out within days of meeting me. I was so ridden with guilt when I realized I was attracted to you, but you don’t know how refreshing it was to meet someone who didn’t treat me like fucking porcelain or something.
“We only spent a few months together, but it didn’t take long for me to see that I wasn’t living a fulfilling life and that I was doing a poor job memorializing grace, which is all I had set out to do. You showed me that living—really living—would be the only way to do her memory justice.” His gaze penetrates mine to their deepest depths, searching for something. My wet cheeks are evidence enough of my sorrow. Maybe he’s looking for forgiveness. It’s unnecessary, because I forgave him long ago.
I let out a shaky breath, using my sleeve to dry the area right beneath my eyes. “You know how to drop a bomb on a girl, Farrar.”
He smiles ruefully. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that name again. I also haven’t told you everything, yet.”
“There’s more?” I ask, steeling myself for whatever truth he will toss my way now.
He nods. “I went to the Driving for Good Gala.”
I narrow my eyes, thinking back, combing through my memory for any evidence of him. “You were there?”
He nods again. “I submitted some of my old photographs anonymously. The best ones I had. And something told me to stick around. So I stayed near the back, because after the way I left you, I didn’t want a reminder of me to be thrown in your face at an event you were involved with.”
The photos I admired at the Gala suddenly come into mind, and I now know, without a doubt, that they were his. “Those photographs sold for thousands each. There was quite the bidding war over one: Serenity.”
He nods, as if this makes sense. “The place where Grace and I were supposed to get married. I couldn’t stand to keep it, and when you mentioned helping with the donations, I got the idea to submit my photos. What I’ve wanted to tell you since that night is how amazing your speech was.”
“You sent the lilies,” I say when it dawns on me.
“Yes. Did you know?”
“No. Arielle was shoving millionaires in my direction every chance she got that night, so I thought it could’ve been one of them. And, well, I didn’t take you to be the bouquet-sending type.”
“I wasn’t,” he chuckles. “But knowing you were wooed by numerous wealthy benefactors makes me feel better about attending secretly. And because I got to see you. You without a worry in the world, including the asshole who left you right before Christmas.”
“It was a wonderful night,” I say, because despite all my nerves, it was truly amazing.
“I could tell by the look on your face. I should have been there with you, but like I said, I had to keep my distance if I had any hope of getting myself right. It was the least I could do, after everything.”
I study my hands clasped in front of me, my knuckles white, the memories of those first few months without him warning me to stand my guard while my heart wants nothing more than to fall back into him. Something about what he said surfaces in my mind.
“You said you felt like what happened between us was a test. What did you mean by that?”
He takes a slow breath, regarding me contemplatively before he answers. “A test of my forgiveness. That I could be the man Grace saw in me, maybe. The man you saw.”
I struggle to swallow around the ball of emotion that’s formed in my throat. Despite all my protectiveness, my heart never stood a chance against this unexpected conversation, so my logic is a little unsteady at the moment. I try to focus my thoughts on what I know to be true. After all, I have no problem thinking clearly under extreme duress at work. What I know for sure is that careful rehabilitation is necessary after a traumatic experience, and proceeding too quickly, before you’re ready, often leads to re-injury. I have no problem healing others’ brokenness and pain—maybe that’s what attracted me to Landon in the first place—but addressing my own is an entirely different matter. And I have to handle this situation with care if we have any hope of saving what we could’ve had.
My thoughts come to a screeching halt when Landon squats down in front of me, tilting my chin up so I have to look at him at eye-level. “Just like in my past, I found myself in a position with a woman I wasn’t worthy of. I had a long conversation with my dad a few months ago, and he reassured me that when you find someone like that, you don’t ever let them go. That that is when you know you’re doing something right. Of course, that was only after a solid ten minutes of yelling at me.” I smile at the thought of him being put in his place.
“It was the least you deserved,” I say.
He nods, accepting responsibility. “I know. I can’t ever change the way I handled things, and I’ll always wonder how I got lucky enough to spend just a few months with you. But I would rather spend my life proving to you every day that you’re more than enough for me. You are worth every risk my heart might be taking by loving you.”
I try to bite my lip to keep it from wobbling, but I’m unsuccessful. At just the utterance of those words, I’m fully bawling, past the point of caring about the ugly-cry-face that’s undoubtedly making an appearance. Landon moves to sit next to me, pulling me into his side, and I don’t resist. It feels good to give in to what I want instead of resisting, and I end up in his lap with my head on his chest, crying into his t-shirt. His words are wonderful and sad and earth-shattering, and it’s almost impossible for me to make sense of everything at this moment.
When he speaks, I feel his words rumbling in his chest and his jaw moving atop my hair. “I’m sorry for dragging you into my life when it was a mess, but I’m not sure I could’ve ever picked up the pieces if it wasn’t for you.”
I say nothing. I just release every emotion that’s built over the last few months as tears. My sobs feel like they’re wrung from my body like water from a damp cloth. They’re almost painful in their intensity, but I do nothing to stop them. They are evidence of everything I’ve needed to let go.
Once my sobs begin to subside and his shirt is substantially sodden, I pull back to look at him. He uses his thumbs to gently wipe the remnants of tears from beneath my eyes.
“I forgave you a long time ago. It was more difficult coming to terms with my own guilt, but speaking with everyone at the Gala helped.” I take slow breaths, willing my mind to clear. I want him back, more than words can say. I want to start this all over again and go back the way our relationship was headed, but I want us to have the best chance possible, and that thought brings my train of thought to a screeching halt.
“I wish I was ready to pick up where we left off, but I just can’t do that yet. I’m trying to reconcile the Landon I knew then with the one I see right now, and it’s difficult to make sense of.”
He nods solemnly. “I know.”
“I wanted to be mad at you. Do you know how many angry conversations I had in my head of things I should’ve said to you before you left?”
Landon’s eyes soften. “I’m sure there were a lot of them, strung together by curses, which I definitely deserved.”
“There were. And despite what you might think, it was never my goal to ‘save you’ in the beginning. That’s not why I kept showing up at your shop. I recognized the good in you then, and I see it now. I only wanted you to see it, too. I wanted you to know that even if you thought you’d lost everything, you still had a heart of gold. You just buried it under your guilt and self-hatred.” I pause to collect myself.
“I’ve spent years thinking that accident was partly my fault. Years. And having you basically confirm that by leaving the way you did nearly tore me apart.” His eyes watch me carefully, but I see a hint of his misery. It pains me to see, but I’ve spent more than a few months getting to know misery.
“I’ve spent years working to get to a point where I didn’t feel guilty with every breath I took. Then you left when you did, dismantling all of that in one night. You made me hate myself again. Do you have any idea how that feels?” He remains silent, giving me the time I need to express months of emotion in this moment. But I can see in his eyes that he knows. Of course he knows.
“So I can’t just pick up where we left off, no matter how much I want to. There’s a lot I need to do before I even consider putting myself in such a vulnerable position again. I realized, all alone, that I was in love with you and had lost you, all at the same time. I’m only telling you I love you, now, because it’s the only phrase that encompasses what those months with you meant to me; how much my life changed because I met you.” He looks at me with watery eyes and a look that threatens to destroy my resolve. “I need time, but I don’t know how long that will be. So I don’t want you to wait.”
I watch silently as he absorbs the words, then he nods. I stand slowly, gathering my bearings, and when I cross the room, he follows me to the front door. I open it for him and step out of the way, but he comes to a stop in front of me and raises his hands tentatively to my face, as though he’s scared I might slap them away. His hands cup my cheeks, firm and warm, and he presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. I have to squeeze my eyes closed in an effort to ignore the pull on my heart strings.
“I’ll give you your space, but if you ever need me, you know my number,” Landon says, stepping through the door. Before he disappears down the hallway, I close the door and press my back against it, taking slow breaths. Remaining on this side of the door while the man I love walks away is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.