Open-faced red roses flanked the top and bottom of the words and wrapped around his arm, while red and black flourishes curved out from some of the letters and around the flowers. The center of the bottom rose morphed into a clock with Roman numerals to remind him that time was always ticking—and wasting, if you didn’t play things right. The way Heath had combined the elements looked phenomenal.
Caden might’ve survived that accident fourteen years before, but he’d never really understood why. He’d never really felt he had anything specific to live for. Meeting Makenna had changed all that, even if Caden had been too mired in the past to see it at the time. But now that he was working so hard to get himself healthy again, he saw it with a clarity that was startling.
Caden wanted a chance for a life with Makenna. And though he knew there was a chance she wouldn’t take him back after what he’d done, he at least had to try.
“Fantastic work as always, Heath. Thank you,” Caden said.
“Anytime. I hope it gives you what you need,” Heath said, leaning in to bandage the piece.
“Me too,” Caden said. “Me too.” And though so much remained uncertain, Caden couldn’t help but marvel at how far he’d come these past six weeks. Because, sitting there in that chair with his arm on fire, Caden’s soul felt lighter than it had in longer than he could remember because he’d renewed his commitment to Sean.
And, more importantly, to himself.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Lying in bed on his day off, something Caden’s therapist had said at his last session pinged around in his brain: Find ways to close the door on the past.
Caden had been thinking about it for days, wanting to find a way to do just that so he could start looking forward instead of always looking back. It was the last thing he needed to figure out before he’d feel ready to go after what he wanted.
Makenna James.
His gaze drifted to the stuffed bear on his nightstand, the one she’d given him to make him feel better. All these weeks, he’d kept it close—well, he hadn’t slept with the damn thing because he was a twenty-eight-year-old man, after all—but he liked having something she’d touched close by.
And Makenna was what Caden most wanted. If she’d have him. And who the hell knew. Given the way he’d bailed on her—abandoned her, really, he might as well call a spade a fucking spade—he wouldn’t blame her for slamming the door in his face.
Dr. Ward’s advice had stemmed from discussing Caden’s realization that he’d let the past control him so much that he’d made his own worst fears come true. The question was, what the hell did it mean to close the door on the past? How was Caden supposed to do that? All the people involved in the accident that he’d let define his life were gone. And he’d never been one who’d found any answers or solace in talking to gravestones.
The only thing that left was the scene of the accident itself.
Caden had never once gone back. Had never even thought about it. Truth be told, it scared him more than a little.
Which was probably why he should do it.
He gave it one last thought, and then he hauled his ass out of bed, showered, and got dressed. In his spare bedroom, he rooted through boxes of his father’s things looking for the file from the insurance investigation into the accident. His father had died last August, and Caden hadn’t kept many of the man’s belongings—only the paperwork related to settling the estate, family photo albums that Caden hadn’t even known his old man still had, and a few things from around the house that Caden had always associated with his mother. What he’d wanted of Sean’s belongings Caden had claimed years before.
Caden was on his fifth box when he found what he was looking for. He pulled the thick folder from a stack and flipped it open. His gaze skimmed over things Caden didn’t really want to re-read in detail—the specifics of his mother’s and brother’s injuries, first and foremost—until he found the location information for the accident that had occurred along Route 50 in Wicomico County, Maryland.
Bingo. Time for his biggest—and hopefully last—journey into the past.
The ninety-minute ride to the general area flew by, probably because Caden wasn’t looking forward to confronting what he had to confront, but it took longer to find the actual stretch of highway where his family had crashed.
The investigation file listed a mile marker, which was the first piece of information he had to narrow his search, and there were also pictures of the accident itself. He’d seen them—and the whole file—before. When he was sixteen, he’d found the file and read it cover to cover, needing every gory detail like a junkie needed a fix. Caden had thought knowing would help, but it had just provided fodder for his subconscious to twist into nightmares and guilt and fear.