"Why would I eat dinner with him? He's just a neighbor. We're not friends."
"Could you give him something for me?" He sets the bowl down and goes in his office.
"Um, I don't think I'll—"
"Here." Lou hands me a pie, all boxed up and ready to go. "Chocolate Cream."
"Why are you giving him a pie?"
"To welcome him to town."
I give him a confused look. "You never welcome people to town."
"He said he could help fix some things around here. If I welcome him with a pie, maybe he'll give me a deal." He motions me to the door. "Now get out of here. It's after three."
I check the clock. It's ten after three. I'm off schedule and didn't even notice. That's weird.
"See you tomorrow." I go out the back exit so I don't have to see Katie again.
When I get home, I smile when I see a freshly mowed lawn at Old Man Freeson's house. It looks so much better. It even makes the crappy house look better. I pull the car up to the garage and see Nash walking up.
"I got it," he says, waving at me as he goes to open the garage door.
My jaw drops when I see him. He's shirtless and his chest is ripped. Pure muscle, with six-pack abs like you see in those photos of hot guys they put on calendars. I've never seen one of those guys in real life. I wasn't even sure abs like that were real. I thought maybe they just messed with the photo to make them look like that.
"Go ahead," he says, waiting for me to pull in the garage.
I park the car and go out to the driveway.
"Thanks," I say as he closes the garage door. He's sweaty, which I'd normally think was disgusting, but on him, I'm finding it somewhat appealing. Or maybe more than somewhat.
"What do you think?" He glances back at his lawn.
I force my gaze away from his chest. "Um, yeah. It looks great. Even makes the house look better."
"Yeah, I think so too." He points to my leg. "So how's the knee?"
"It's better, but I'm going to put some ice on it while I watch TV."
"Need some help getting to the door?" He eyes my crumbling walkway. "I need to fix this. It's really dangerous."
"I'll call someone tomorrow. I'm just not sure who to call."
"Hey." He sets his hand on my shoulder. "I said I'd do it and I will. It's my fault you fell and fixing this is the least I can do."
"Fine, but I'll pay you for the supplies."
"The supplies are cheap. Don't worry about it."
"But don't you have to rent equipment? I can at least pay for that."
"I've got the equipment. I'll see if my brother can bring it down this weekend. I'll make him help. He owes me."
"Okay, well, thanks. That's really nice of you to do that for me."
"I better get back to work. I was cleaning the deck when I heard you drive up." He smiles. "Dinner's at six. Don't forget."
"Nash, I have to pass on dinner. I have things to do."
"Like what?"
"Just...things." I need to come up with better excuses. He's very persistent.
"Are you eating with your family? If so, they're welcome to come over. I'll just order a couple more pizzas."
"No, they're um...out of town. They went on vacation."
"For how long?"
"A week?" I said it like a question. That was dumb.
"You're not sure when they're coming back?"
"No. They're having fun. They're in no hurry to get back."
"Where'd they go?"
"You ask a lot of questions."
He shrugs. "I was just curious. If they're having so much fun, I'm surprised you didn't go with them."
A lump lodges in my throat. Why didn't I go with them? Why did I stay home? The words flood my brain. Not again. I hate this. I hate this so much.
"I have to go." I race to the house, ignoring the pain in my knee as I run. When I get inside, I shut and lock the door, then collapse on the couch, leaning forward with my face in my hands.
"Why didn't I go?" I whisper. "Why did I stay behind?"
And then it begins. The thoughts that have tortured me for over a year start cycling through my mind. I try to count but it doesn't work. The questions just keep coming, like they're on a continuous loop.
Why am I still here?
Why am I here and they're not?
Why did it happen to them and not me?
Why was I left all alone?
Why did I tell Ben no when he begged me to go with them? How could I say no to him?
Why was I so selfish? My mom wasn't selfish. Neither was Greg. They were both good people. Both better than me. They loved each other. They had a good life. A sweet little boy. So why did this happen? Why them and not me?
Why? Why? Why?
I'm rocking back and forth, trying to breathe. Whenever this happens—the nonstop questions, the guilt, the regret—I feel like I can't breathe. Like something heavy is lying on my chest and I can't get it off me. Sometimes I wish it would just take me. Crush me. Squeeze out that last bit of breath so I could be with them. Where I belong.
There's a knock on the door. It startles me and the loop of questions grinds to a screeching halt. My head is pounding and I feel dizzy.
The doorbell rings, followed by more knocking. "Callie?"
It's Nash. Now what does he want? Maybe if I ignore him, he'll go away.