Page 104 of Moving Forward
I squeeze Cain’s hands and lean my head back against his shoulder. “You should know that I’m really happy. I don’t know if that will give you peace wherever you are, but it settles me. I don’t feel so alone and empty without you anymore. I found someone to love, who loves me just as much. I never thought it would be possible again . . . not after you. I thought you would be the only one for me and at times I wished that you would be. The guilt and the fear that I might love someone other than you—it ate me up. And then I met Cain. I can’t explain it, and I don’t know if you pointed him in my direction or if fate stepped in, but I don’t feel guilty about how much I love him. I hope you accept us together, that you understand I need him and that he needs him. Moving on with him just feels right. Loving him feels right.”
The wind blows. There he is. Right with me. Running his hands down my arms, brushing my hair back, and sending chills across my skin. The thought of him agreeing—that he’s heard me—causes me to sink into Cain with relief. “I love you, Ethan. I don’t think it feels wrong, even now. Saying it . . . it feels like home.” I bite my trembling lip, fighting to summon the will to keep going. “But I have to move on. I have to say goodbye to the life we could have had. I have to give myself room for a fresh start. I love you Ethan, but I have to start living again.”
My mouth snaps shut. There is nothing left for me to say. I feel completely drained of words, of emotions, of everything. Who knew that talking could use so much energy? I could probably crawl into bed and stay there for a week.
Cain presses his lips to my temple. I shiver slightly and he tightens his arms before retracting. He releases me soundlessly and walks over to a small patch of late-blooming pansies beside the tree, plucking a small handful. He sets them on the top of the headstone, beside the Millers’ flowers.
I smile up at him when he wraps an arm back around my waist. “Thank you,” I say softly.
“You needed it,” is all he says.
I run my fingers along the top of Ethan’s gravestone before I let Cain lead us back through the cemetery to my parked car. About halfway there, Cain stops. He glances up at the bright, cloudless sky. It’s amazing how a day so dark can be so light. For some reason, when your world ends, you expect the rest of the world to die with it. You expect overcast skies and pain and devastation. The last thing you envision is for everything to keep going, even if that means going without you.
The sunlight bathes Cain’s angular face as he tilts his head farther back, breathing deep through his nose like he’s trying to take all of that light into himself. He’s come so far since I first saw him, hidden in the darkness. Everything about him is different now. His expressions are lighter, his muscles relaxed, his laugh musical. When I met him he wasn’t living, and neither was I. Now we’re both standing in the light.
My love for Ethan was slow, like a dripping faucet slowly filling up a sink. Drop by drop I fell in love with him, until that love spilled over. Ethan was my first love, the type of love where you don’t know up from down, or left from right. Instead, you’re spinning mercilessly, praying that you find your way safely back to your feet.
My love for Cain has felt inevitable since the beginning. He didn’t just capture my heart, he stole it. I rushed into my love for him headfirst, no safety net, no shields—just me and him. With Cain, I know where I stand. I know that we hold each other up. I know that we belong together and that we make each other whole. Cain is my second chance. Falling in love with him may have been inevitable, but loving him forever is my choice. My way forward.
