“I’m so sorry, Mom.”

She hugs me tight again, then puts an arm around my shoulder and guides me inside.

“It’s all in the past, sweetheart. Let’s focus on now, and the future. I’m just glad you’re home.” The house smells like fresh bread and chocolate chip cookies. I always read that in books and think, how could everyone’s parent’s houses smell like that. Mine didn’t always either, but Mom must have been baking recently, because as I walk in, it smells delicious, and for the first time in a week, I feel the slightest bit of hunger.

When we reach the kitchen, my dad looks up in surprise, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree. He pushes the chair back and stalks over to me, pulling me into an enormous bear hug. “Hey, love bug. I’m so happy to see you.” Mom sniffs, and walks to the counter where all the yummy smells were emanating from.

Dad and I sit at the table and an awkward silence descends.

“You look a little thin, Victoria. I better feed you,” Mom chirps. Then she goes about busying herself, putting a plate of treats together.

“Love bug,” Dad starts hesitantly, “I’m so damn glad you’re here, but you look like there might be a big reason for your visit. What’s up?” Right to the point, that’s my dad.

I suck in a breath through my nose and then let it out of my mouth in a puff. Mom sits across the table from me, pushing the plate my way, then watching me expectantly. “Um, have you guys ever thought about the people in the car accident? The guy driving the truck?”

My mom’s face clouds over a little and she slips her hand across the table to cover the one I have resting beside my plate. “Sure I have. Why do you ask?”

I clear my throat a little. “Um, I … met the man who was driving.” Both my parents’ eyebrows raise at that, and sympathy swims in their eyes.

“Is he okay?” my mom asks.

“What do mean, is he okay?” I snap. “Shouldn’t you be asking how I am after meeting the man who killed my husband and baby?”

My mom’s face softens, but she is frowning, nonetheless. “Honey, you left so quickly, you weren’t here for the aftermath of that accident. You shouldn’t blame that poor man. He was dealt his own set of troubles.”

“I’m glad he felt guilty. That’s nothing compared to my grief,” I sneer.

My dad looks at me reproachfully. “Victoria, I’m disappointed in you.”

That shuts me up real quick, and I shrink back in my chair. All of my life, my dad has been my hero and disappointing him…it’s worse than losing a vital case.

“That accident wasn’t any one person’s fault, but that man paid for it. He flipped his truck, landed upside down on one of the other cars. The other car had debris flying everywhere and he was hit in the head with multiple pieces of metal.” I suck in a breath, the image of Chase locked in a twisted hunk of steel makes me ache.

“He was in a coma for a while,” Mom says. “Then he was forced to stay in the hospital until he was cleared of brain trauma.”

“You knew him? Who he was?” I whisper incredulously.

Dad shakes his head. “No, not personally. We inquired through a friend of a friend. I was worried that we’d lost another life that day as well.”

“Another?” I frown, my brows furrowing deep over my eyes.

“Yes, love bug. Another. He may not have been our family, but he was as innocent as everyone else in that accident. A life just as important as yours or Sarah’s or Ben’s.” My dad shakes his head, looking down at the table, “I wanted to reach out to him, to make sure that he wasn’t living with guilt, or worrying that we blamed him, just see if he was all right. But we didn’t want to force it on him. So, we left it alone.”

I’m so confused by what they are saying. I feel like the room is spinning. I debate whether or not to tell them, going back and forth on the yo-yo. I want to know how they would react, to feel justified in my anger and resentment. “It was Chase,” I blurt out.

Twin looks of confusion grace their faces. “Chase who?” Mom asks.

“Monroe, Mom,” I answer curtly. “Chase Monroe, the guy you met at the wedding.”

Mom’s mouth drops open and Dad’s is thoughtful. Thoughtful? What is there to think about? I’ve been sleeping with the man who took away Ben and Sarah.

“Did he know?” Dad asks.

“No,” I admit, “he didn’t know it was me until last week. He took me to the cemetery.”

Mom’s hand covers her mouth. “Oh honey, I can’t imagine how hard that was. How devastating for you both.”

Once again, I’m lost. Do they not understand what’s happening? “Well, it hardly matters now. We’re over,” I mumble, my heart still hurting at the thought.

“Why?” Mom covers my hand with hers again. “It’s clear that you love him. I think you could heal each other’s grief.”

I pull my hand away and stand. “I have to go.”

My mom looks at my dad, her eyes darting back and forth between us, alarm written all over her face.

“Will you be back?” Dad asks gruffly.

His question softens my heart a little and I nod. “How about dinner next week?”

They both return to the glowing countenance that I’d seen when I arrived. Then I’m walked to the door by my mom, who hugs me tight.

“I missed you so much, baby girl,” she whispers. “Think about what I said, okay? No one is at fault for what happened, only the two of you for blaming yourselves.”

I don’t reply, but I return her hug and wave as I set off for my car.

There is so much swirling around in my mind, I think I’m even more overwhelmed than I was when I stopped at my parent’s house. One thing is clear, I’m fucking exhausted. I make the thirty minute drive back to the city and when I’m finally in my apartment, I fall into the bed in the guestroom and practically pass out from the emotional stress and lack of sleep this week.

I hear the phone in the front room buzzing, dragging me from my sleep. It’s the phone to the front desk. I sigh and glance at the clock, its eight o’clock at night. I’m not expecting a delivery. My forehead puckers as I stumble to the phone, praying it’s not Chase downstairs, asking to be let up. Then I remember he’s on the list, so it isn’t him, and I sigh with a modicum of relief.

“Yes?” I croak, my voice raspy with sleep.

“You have some visitors, Ms. Larkin.”

“Umm, who is it?” I ask warily.

“A…ahem, a group of people. I’ve been requested to tell you they are with Belinda?” His statement ends like a question, asking for permission to send them up.

I’m immediately worried that something has happened to Chase. I tell him to send them up and then pace in front of my door, waiting for a knock. When it comes, I swing the door open so fast, it hits the wall. “Is everything okay? Is everybody okay?” My words mush together in my panicked state. I wave them in still speaking at warp speed. “Did something happen to—Did something happen to anyone?”

Belinda puts her hand on my shoulder. “No one’s dead or in the hospital or anything. You can breathe, calm down.” I take her advice and follow her to the couches where everyone has seated themselves.

“No one’s hurt?” I clarify.

“I didn’t say that,” Belinda begins. She holds up her hand when I go to speak. “I know it’s not really any of my business, but this group, we are family. Including you and Chase. And when one is hurting, we all do.”

Nate speaks up, “He’s devastated, Tori. I’ve never seen him like this.”

I shake my head, backing away, as much in denial, as to ward off their speaking any further on this subject. “You don’t understand—” But, Belinda presses on, taking my hand and keeping me from running.

“Chase told us, honey. We understand what you’re both dealing with, to a certain extent anyway. Tori, look at me.” Her voice is firm, and she steps in front of me so I have no choice but to obey. “You have been on the cusp of acceptance for some time now, and Chase doesn’t like anyone to know, but he hasn’t reached that stage yet, either. But together? Together you were about to fall into the peace of acceptance.”