candy when Michael approached me, the ghostly lighting making him seem almost ethereal.
“Listen, Addie,” he said, his voice soft, raspy, almost like it pained him to talk.
“Michael, don’t.” I didn’t think I had the strength for almost anything he might say. But there didn’t seem to be any stopping him.
“I can’t just let you leave,” he went on, undeterred. His strong hand wrapped my wrist, as if to keep me from running, and warmth shot up my arm, making me feel hot all over. And confused. What was I doing?
“I need to tell you why I said what I did, why I acted that way. I was confused. It’s just, I’ve lived my life one way for a long time, thought about things one way,” he paused for a breath and I pulled my arm away. I couldn’t think when he was touching me. “And then Shelly—“
“I know,” I said. “Listen, I can’t do this. I just can’t. I can’t talk to you right now. It’s all too hard.” I turned away from him and practically sprinted out the front gates and down the hill to where I’d left Mom’s car at the curb. I couldn’t get away from Singletree fast enough. I needed a fresh start.
Another one.
33
Ghostly Departures
Michael
I watched Addie walk away, her white dress almost mocking in its ghostly beauty, it’s symbolism of a fated love between a Tanner and a Tucker. Maybe something like that only happened once, I figured. And our love was closer to the Romeo and Juliet kind than the Lucille and Robert kind. Star crossed, for sure. Maybe Filene just didn’t understand the complications that would arise between us.
“Where’d she go?” Daniel asked as I came back inside the house, which was still draped in cobwebs and fucking creepy.
“She left,” I told him.
“But I thought you were apologizing.” Daniel’s eyes were big and sad, and I realized that he had become very invested in my relationship with Addie—he wanted this to succeed. I’d believed it had upset him when he saw us kissing, that he’d thought I was betraying him somehow, but the opposite was true. And now I was failing my son again because I didn’t have what it took to get the girl back.
“Some things are just too complicated to work,” I told him. “Sometimes it just isn’t as easy as you want it to be.”
He shook his head, his big eyes widening farther. “She loves you, Dad. I know she does.”
Did Addie Tanner love me? I didn’t know. There had been moments when I’d held her close, felt her wrap around me, body and soul, and thought it could be true. But we hadn’t had a chance. We’d never said those words, or anything close to them.
“No,” I told my son as we sat at the kitchen counter. There was a little pile in the center—my watch, the missing ring, a few other shiny items. “It’s for the best. I can focus on you and me now,” I said, but I heard the hollow mistruth in those words.
“That isn’t what either one of us wants,” he said. “I want you to be happy. And I want to eat pizza with Addie and watch movies.” His big eyes shone, filling with tears. “I think maybe I love her too, Dad.”
My heart twisted inside my chest, aching and pulling, trying to find a quiet corner to curl up in to escape the pain. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that white dress disappearing again. Addie disappearing from my life.
“I know you love her,” Dan said, his tone almost accusatory. “And if you say you don’t, you’ll just be lying.”
I stared at him. He was right, of course. In the weeks spent cleaning and painting, hammering and tiling, I’d lost parts of myself. To this house, to the process, to the chance at something new. But mostly, to Addison Tanner. I did love her. But of course I’d been too afraid to even acknowledge it to myself.
“Maybe,” I admitted to my son. “Maybe I do. But it’s too late tonight to do anything about it. Let’s go to bed.”
“Does that mean you’ll do something about it tomorrow?” Dan asked, bouncing on his chair as one of his hands reached forward and gently pushed the old ring out of the little pile to rest in front of me. I ignored it.
“We’ll see.” The oldest Dad answer in the books came out of my mouth without me even thinking about it. It was