“Slip further? “ I question. “Tell me what’s going on, Evelyn.”
Her eyes are sympathetic, and she lowers her voice as if she’s telling me a secret. “Her father died when she was thirteen.”
I nod my head. “Yeah, she told me this.”
“He killed himself.” She didn’t tell me that, but I knew from the news articles and research that I have. I swallow hard and take a deep breath. She adds gravely, “She was there when it happened, Holt.”
I feel the blood rush from my head. This part I didn’t know. “What do you mean?”
Evelyn looks pained as she starts. “It was her thirteenth birthday. He killed himself in the barn on their property. She heard the gunshot and found him on the floor of the barn. She saw everything. She was there when he stopped breathing. He was everything to her. Everything . . . and she watched him die.”
I inhale sharply and my stomach drops.
Evelyn finishes, “She’s afraid to love anyone or anything because she’s afraid of losing them, like her father.”
“Back up,” I demand. “She told you all this?”
Evelyn makes a slightly offended face. “I’m her best friend. I’m the only person that knows about this other than her family and her therapist back in North Dakota.” She pauses a moment and sighs. “She’s struggling, Holt. It’s almost the anniversary of his death. She’s in a new city. She hasn’t been talking to a therapist since she moved here, and she’s starting to crumble.”
“Then I’ll pick her back up,” I answer easily. Because I will. I’ll do anything for her.
Evelyn shakes her head, sad. “She’s not going to let you.”
“She doesn’t have a choice,” I tell her with determination. “Pushing me away isn’t an option.”
Evelyn nods now. “She’s going to do everything and anything to sabotage this. She’s a good person, Holt. She really is. But she’s afraid, and she will let go of you.”
“Well, when she lets go, I’ll be sure to hold on tighter. I’m not letting her go that easy, Evelyn.”
Tears fill Evelyn’s eyes then, and my stomach turns as I replay the details of what she’s told me over and over in my mind of Saige witnessing her father’s suicide.
“Does she know you’re here?” I ask. She shakes her head no. I nod once. “Thank you for telling me this.”
“Holt.” She takes a deep breath. “Saige is my best friend. She’s smart, and beautiful, and an amazing person . . . but she’s so lost right now. On the outside, she has it all together, but on the inside, she’s a mess. I’m begging you not to hurt her, because I’m so afraid she won’t be able to handle it—and I promised myself I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”
I look Evelyn in the eye. “Nothing is going to happen to her. I promise I won’t hurt her.”
She stands up and runs her hands along the front of her jeans. “Thank you for talking to me. I know you weren’t expecting me.”
“Evelyn.” I shake my head in frustration. “You’re welcome anytime.”
“Thank you,” she says, forcing a stiff smile and glancing at the time on her phone. “I need to catch the train back. Please don’t tell Saige I stopped by. She’d be angry.”
“I won’t say a word. But wait here just a minute.” I hold my finger up to pause her. I jog up the stairs and throw on a pair of tennis shoes and a baseball hat. Meeting Evelyn near the front door, I grab the keys from the side table. “I’ll drive you home. I don’t like you ladies taking the train this late at night.”
“I do it all the time.” She crinkles her forehead in annoyance.
I’m not taking no for an answer. “Not when I can take you home. Let’s go.” I guide her out the front door to my car, which is parked in the drive. It only takes a few minutes on the quiet streets to get back to Evelyn and Saige’s place. From the street, their condo appears to be dark except for the flicker of the TV that you can see through the large glass window. I wonder if Saige is watching TV or is sleeping, and as much as I want to go up to see her, I send Evelyn in alone.
I hardly sleep thinking of everything Evelyn told me. Saige losing her father, I knew about. His suicide, I knew about. Her finding him . . . seeing him . . . holding him, I knew nothing about. I finally give up on sleep around four thirty in the morning. Frustrated, I throw off the covers, pull on a pair of jogging pants and a t-shirt, lace up my tennis shoes, and hit the streets. I want a nice long run this morning. I’m hoping it clears my head.