Chapter 26

MAC

I shouldn't have come here.

But here I was, standing in front of Caroline's grave as if her ghost would give me the answers I needed.To make things more obnoxious, it was a gorgeous, sunny day without a cloud in the sky. I felt hot in just jeans and a T-shirt.

Shouldn't it be pouring rain? Or storming? That would match my mood at least. But no, the sun just had to shine; the universe just had to remind me that life could be warm and beautiful.

I snorted as I drank from the bottle of wine I'd brought with me.

"You'd laugh at me, wouldn't you?" I said to Caroline's gravestone.

On it was written Caroline Miller Bradford. A devoted wife and mother. Below that was a verse from Proverbs: Who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is far above rubies.

"What a crock of shit," I said, shaking my head. "Did you approve this headstone before you died? Because I really can't imagine you did."

I had a feeling Dave had chosen that verse as one last jab at his wife's cheating. Why the man hadn't divorced her years ago, I didn't know. Did he have no self-respect? Because I knew for a fact that I wasn't the only man Caroline had cheated with.

"God, I fucking hate you." I slurred the words, but I didn't even care that I was already drunk. I kept drinking, needing the burn of alcohol to banish every bad feeling that wanted to overwhelm me.

I'd thought I could trust Caroline, but she'd betrayed me. I'd thought the same about Elodie, and look where I was now. A pathetic heap of a man, drinking in broad daylight at his ex-lover's gravestone.

I would've laughed, but I had a feeling I'd only start crying instead.

"I always defended you, didn't I?"

If she were still alive, Caroline would've told me she'd loved me. That I was the only person who'd ever truly understood her. The first time she'd kissed me, I'd been shocked. Aroused. Terrified. This gorgeous older woman, the pastor's wife, wanted me.

"Do you know how sexy you are?" she'd said to me, her voice sultry and low.

I was a gangly, tall teenager with acne. The last adjective I would've used for myself would've been sexy. But I wanted to believe Caroline.

She'd pulled me into an unused office at the church when I'd found her crying one evening. I'd found her crying before. She'd told me all about how Dave was cruel to her, how her kids wouldn't listen to her, how lonely she was.

That night, she'd taken my hand, and we'd been in the dark together. I'd been sure that my heart would explode out of my chest. Then she'd kissed me.

I'd kissed girls before. I'd had a girlfriend my freshman year, and we'd had sex a few times. But sex with Caroline? That had been entirely different. She knew what she was doing. And she knew what she wanted. I didn't have the strength to tell her no.

"Could I have told you no?" I asked her gravestone. "Because I don't think you would've let me."

After we had sex the first time, she'd begged me not to say anything. Dave would kill her. "He has guns," she'd told me with tears in her eyes. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Considering everyone in Idaho had at least one gun, I had no reason not to believe her. I also didn't want her husband to hurt her. What if he killed Caroline because he found out about me and her?

I'd kept her secrets. I'd kept the sex, the confessions, the tears, the arguments, the BDSM—all of it, I'd kept it secret. And I'd convinced myself that I was desperately in love with her. I'd decided that I was going to convince Caroline to leave her husband and run away with me.

I was eighteen by that point. I'd take care of her. I didn't know how, but I'd figure it out. Wasn't that what true love was about? Figuring things out just so you could be together? I'd shown up at Caroline's house to tell her about my plan. It was Friday, which meant that Dave was down at the church. Caroline's kids were at their friends' houses.

I went inside, listening, when I heard groans. I rushed to Caroline's bedroom and found her in bed with none other than her own husband. All three of us stared at each other. Then Dave jumped out of bed, red as a tomato, while Caroline laughed.

Laughed! I couldn't believe it. The only thing that came into my stupid brain was to say, "I love you, Caroline."

That just made Caroline laugh harder. Dave grabbed me by the arm and nearly yanked my shoulder out of its socket.

"Get the fuck out of here," Dave snarled.

I couldn't move. I had to make Caroline understand. "You didn't have to do this," I said.

She gave me a pitying look that felt like an arrow through the heart. "Oh, Mac, go home."

Dave still held my arm. I pushed his hands off and shoved him to the floor so hard that he stumbled back.

Then I ran, Dave roaring behind me, the sounds of Caroline's insane laughter making me wonder if I'd been the one who'd lost my mind.

Now, over a decade later, I was talking to a gravestone. I might be the crazy one after all , I thought darkly.

I wiped my mouth and returned to my rental car. But I knew I was in no fit state to drive, so I dozed in the front seat until I sobered up. Once I was good to drive, I headed out. When I parked in front of my parents' church, staring up at its austere steeple, I wasn't even sure why I'd come.

Did I think this place would give me the answers I'd always sought? I doubted it. I'd twisted myself into knots, trying to fit into the mold religion and my parents wanted, but it'd never been enough.

I went inside. I told myself it was to get a bottle of water from the vending machine, but when I wandered upstairs to the church offices, I wasn't surprised to find Mom up there. She didn't look surprised to see me. She just clucked her tongue and pointed at a chair. "You look terrible," she said.

She was handing me water and a granola bar before I could even ask for them. I drank and ate in silence, Mom standing over me, a resigned expression on her face.

"Your coach called me," she said after I'd finished.

"What?"

"You have people who are looking for you, Mac. What are you doing here in Idaho when you have a game today?"

I let out a pathetic laugh. "I thought maybe you could tell me."

"You can't run from your problems. You know that." She'd always said that to me. You can't just leave. You can't just run away. You have to face what you're afraid of.

But was leaving always due to fear? I'd left Idaho because there'd been nothing for me here. I'd left my family because they'd never understood me.

"I went to see Caroline," I admitted.

"I figured." My mom shook her head. "That woman. I won't say out loud what I think about her, but let's just say if I did, I'd be losing treasures in heaven." That made me smile a little. Mom had always refrained from saying aloud her worst thoughts for that very reason.

"Mac, I'm not going to say that what you and Caroline did together was right," Mom said slowly. "I still don't understand it. Your dad definitely doesn't."

At the mention of Dad, I tensed. "I didn't come here to get lectured."

"You seriously came to church and didn't expect a lecture?" Mom let out a laugh. "Cole Mackenzie, you always were a special kid, I'll give you that."

I scowled. "You know what I mean."

"I know you're hurting. I know you're confused. I know you thought you loved that woman."

"I did love her."

"I'm sure you did." Mom let out a sigh. "‘Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres,'" she quoted.

I groaned. "Please don't quote Bible verses at me."

"You're in a church. Do you see how many Bibles are sitting right behind you?" I glanced over my shoulder. There were too many Bibles to count. I felt the weight of them, staring at me, judging me.

"If Caroline had loved you, she would never have tempted you," Mom was saying. "Real love would've meant understanding that an affair would hurt everyone."

"I'm not saying our relationship was healthy—"

"Relationship?" Mom let out a sad laugh. "You were just a child. Yes, a child. I didn't see that at first, and I'm sorry for that. More sorry than you'll ever know. You were always so mature for your age."

Tears started in Mom's eyes. Guilt hit me like a punch to the chest. "Please don't cry," I pleaded.

"I love you so much, Mac. I'm sorry you're hurting. I just want you to be happy." Mom wiped her eyes, but the tears kept coming. "You know, all those times I called you after you left? I couldn't tell your dad. I had to use Glenda's phone here in the office so he wouldn't catch on. He'd forbidden me from contacting you, and I just couldn't do it."

I'd had no idea. More often than not, I hadn't even picked up the phone when Mom had called back then. I'd seen an Idaho number, and I'd ignored it.

"Real love doesn't hurt people. Love is about respect. Do you think Caroline ever respected you? Because I'm not sure she did," Mom said.

I didn't know what to say. I'd been so caught up in the emotions of our relationship that I might've mistaken lust and obsession for love. My brain felt like it was complete mush. Mom got up and put a hand on my shoulder. "I hate to see you like this, son," she said quietly.

"I'm sorry I'm such a fucking mess."

She clucked her tongue. "Language. And everyone is a mess. By the grace of God are we saved from our own messes." She made me look up at her. "If you care about this Elodie girl, you'll tell her how you feel."

I gaped at my mom. "Elodie?"

"Yes, Elodie. I saw how you looked at her when we went to dinner. And a woman who attends the funeral of a man's . . ." My mom's mouth twisted. "I hate the word ‘girlfriend,' but I guess that's all we got. A woman who attends the funeral of her guy's ex-girlfriend is a special person."

"She is special. I've always known that," I said, almost to myself.

"Then tell her. Don't hope that she just knows."

I shook my head. "It's not like that."

"Well, it could be if you talked to her. Are you in love with her? Because she should at least get a chance to respond to your feelings."

I hardly recognized my mom at this point. When I'd been growing up, she'd always deferred to my dad. She'd rarely taken us aside and given us talks like this. She'd either tell us to talk to our dad or to pray about it.I must've looked confused because my mom chuckled. "I've been going to therapy lately. Can you tell?"

Now my eyebrows rose. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." She squeezed my shoulder. "And maybe you should, too."

I nearly burst out laughing because Elodie had suggested that exact thing. But I wasn't about to tell my mom that. She'd just tell me to listen to the women in my life because ninety-nine percent of the time, they were right.

I got up and hugged my mom tightly. "Thanks."

"I love you, Mac. And I'm proud of the man you've become. I hope you know that."

For the first time in a long while, I believed her.