Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“Worth. You can call me Worth.” You’ll be Worth Stapleton wherever you live. Sam’s words rang true, and unlike earlier, the idea didn’t feel like a prison sentence. I don’t hate myself anymore. Huh. I’d been stalked by that feeling for so long that I hadn’t registered its absence. I’d done my time at one of the best universities in the world. And been miserable. I’d had a good job and hated myself every damn day. Maybe Sam was right, damn it, and I was healing here.
“Thanks for being nice, Worth.” Ronan looked suitably contrite as they scrambled out of the car.
“Why don’t you stop into Blessed Bean tomorrow?” I called after them. “Lemonade on the house. You can talk to Sam about some better ways to keep busy and out of trouble.”
“Okay.” They made their way inside, and I watched the lights come on before I drove off down the street. Past my—Sam’s—house. No. It was mine, would always be mine, just like my name and who I was deep down. I could live any other place in the world, and this would still be my home.
My hometown.
My Sam.
How could I leave?
Was I worthy of staying? There. That was truly the question that had plagued me all evening. Sam loved to talk about what I deserved. But did I deserve this life? Did I deserve to have dreams? I supported Sam’s hopes while trembling at the idea of letting myself think so big.
Buttercup whined as I slowed further in front of the house. A light was on in the kitchen. I could go in. It could so easily be our house.
But I drove on.
There was one stop I needed to make first. Then, maybe, just maybe, I would be ready to come home.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sam
Years later, I’d wonder how I’d known where to find Worth, and I wouldn’t be any closer to explaining the intuition that had led me to the cemetery on the edge of town. It was still a little light outside as I pulled into the historic plot with rows of neat headstones ringed by a wrought iron fence. It was well-maintained, with short grass and gravel paths.
I knew where Worth’s parents’ headstones lay. His father’s was more weathered, part of a family plot. When his mother’s remains had been located, the town had hosted a memorial with contributions going to a headstone for her. Those of us organizing the memorial had tried to get Worth’s opinion, but at the time, he’d tersely given permission for her to be buried in the family plot with no other instructions.
Thus, both stones were simple affairs. Names. Dates. No real hint of personality, which was a shame. Near each other, which one hoped they would have wanted, but that was a complicated conclusion, same as everything else about this case.
No, not a case. This wasn’t simply some random collection of facts laid bare for public examination. Monroe’s and Holden’s efforts might have helped solve the mystery by treating it as more of an academic matter, but as I’d told Ellie, the true-crime junkie, these were real people. Real lives. And their real son, sitting between the two stones, Buttercup lying loyally by his side.
I’d spotted his car and parked behind it before proceeding on foot. I was about to announce my presence when I heard him murmuring, his voice carrying on the evening wind. Talking. He was talking to his parents. I needed to back away and leave him to his private moment, but my feet didn’t want to obey.
“My therapist, the group, Sam, everyone says I need to do the work to help myself. But the work hurts. Because I’m supposed to work on letting go of feeling guilty. How can I let it go when I can’t ever apologize?” The pain in Worth’s voice rooted me to the spot, made my breath come fast and shallow. “You’re gone, and the guilt remains like a permanent stain on my soul. I can’t take back my past words, actions, or thoughts. That especially.”
He paused, and I swallowed hard, searching for the right words that might make him hurt less. But Worth seemed determined to wrestle something out, so I let him continue while I tried to decide how to announce my presence and, more importantly, reassure the man I loved.
“I believed the worst. I screwed up. I didn’t show up. I’ve failed so many times since that day.” Worth’s voice broke, and my heart right along with it. “I failed you both. For years, everyone has said I need to forgive you. But that’s not it. How do I forgive myself?”
I hated that I didn’t have an answer for him. I clenched my hands so tightly they ached, and my knees locked, making moving forward impossible.
“Sam likes to say I’m human. But that’s not enough for me. I want to be a better human. And maybe that’s how I keep moving forward. I promise I’ll do better.” Idly patting the grass next to him, Worth exhaled hard, voice much more steady now. “I won’t forget what you taught me, the good and the bad. I came here to tell you that you did the best you could. You were good parents because you did the best you could with the circumstances you were given. But so did I. So did I.”