All he could think was, Do you, Dani? Because I feel it all, with you. But what he said was, “I’ll walk you out.”
Fifteen minutes later, his phone beeped an incoming text, and it was her. I’m home. Thanks again, Sean.
Anything you need, Dani. Any time. Always.
She didn’t reply, and it didn’t exactly surprise him given that he had the distinct feeling that something had spooked her. Maybe it had something to do with what she’d thought she heard her granny say. Or maybe it had to do with him. So he didn’t push her any further than that.
For now.
What did surprise him was that she didn’t respond to his texts for the rest of the day. Not when he asked her opinion on two comforter sets he was considering at Target for the guest bedroom. Not when he texted her a photo of his freezer newly stocked with popsicles. And not when he sent her a ‘Deadpool’ meme that read, “If your left leg is Thanksgiving and your right leg is Christmas, can I visit you between the holidays?”
But most surprising of all was that she didn’t respond when he texted her after the home inspection the next day.
It went fuckin’ fantastic. The man who came was laid back and outgoing and totally put Sean at ease. The guy loved Sean’s basement and thought kids would flip out to get to spend time there. He didn’t see any problems and thought they’d be in touch with him next week given that tomorrow was the 4th.
He thought for sure Dani would respond to that news.
When she didn’t, he called her…and got her voicemail.
Sean had no idea how to read any of that, but what he did know was that something felt very, very wrong. And he wasn’t sure what to do about it.
Chapter Nineteen
Dani had been sitting on her living room couch since midnight the night before. She was halfway through the sixth anniversary of Anthony’s death.
Her comfiest blanket piled on her lap, Dani had spent a lot of that last thirteen hours staring at an envelope—the envelope that contained Anthony’s just-in-case letter.
They’d both written one. Neither had ever expected for theirs to be read. Hers never had because she’d survived. But his hadn’t been read either—because Dani had felt so guilty for not being at Anthony’s side, for not even knowing he’d died until hours later, that she hadn’t felt entitled to whatever comfort his last words to her might’ve offered.
Survivor’s guilt was a bitch.
It got its talons deep into your skull and whispered all kinds of insidious little lies into your heart.
If you hadn’t insisted on doing aeromedical evac, you might’ve been there for him when it mattered most.
He would be disappointed in you for not being brave enough to face what he had to say.
It should’ve been you.
Every year, she’d revisited those feelings, and found them still present in her mind and her heart. Sometimes they got quiet enough that she thought maybe they were finally gone, but July 3rd always came around to prove that they were still very much there.
Which was why, six years later, she still had the envelope. Worn now from her handling it year after year. One piece of the back unsealed from when she’d almost worked up the courage to open it last year.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been braver, Anthony,” she whispered, tears forming a knot in her throat.
From where her cell was charging in her bedroom, she heard another incoming text message. She’d finally moved it to the charger in there instead of keeping it within hand’s reach out here on the couch—because Sean had been texting her on and off. And she’d just needed the space to work through all of this without being tempted to chat with him or laugh at his jokes or confront the fact that Dani had way stronger-than-friendly feelings towards him.
How strong was the part she couldn’t deal with just then.
It didn’t help that Dani still wasn’t feeling good. No more fever or vomiting, fortunately, but she was still headachy and sometimes nauseous, and she hadn’t eaten since the night before which probably wasn’t helping since it was well after lunchtime.
Yeah. I should probably eat, she thought, staying right where she was, her brain half on autopilot whether or not her body needed fuel. She smoothed her hand over the plain white envelope. The only thing on the outside was her name in Anthony’s slanted handwriting. She imagined that she could feel his touch through the envelope, through something he’d once touched. It was such a nice thought. But when her mind attempted to conjure up what that touch would feel like, it was Sean’s much-bigger hand that she felt against her thighs, her wrists, her shoulders. It was Sean’s touch, still fresh from all the time they’d just spent together, that now had the power to set her senses afire.