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As we pull into a parking space and get out of the car, I hope the building isn’t a reflection of the good old doctor. For some reason, this building feels oddly familiar, as though I’ve been here before. But with a job that had me traipsing all over the tristate area, everything starts to seem familiar sooner or later. Once you’ve been to one city building, you’ve been to them all.

“We should’ve taken up the knee doctor on that handicapped parking pass. That way you wouldn’t have to trek across this damn garage,” Quinn says as we reach the elevator at the front of the parking garage.

I smirk at her. “Or next time, you just drop me off by the elevator and trek across the parking lot by yourself.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of the buddy system?” she asks earnestly.

“Yeah, because I’m doing you a lot of a good with fighting off possible muggers, carjackers, and rapists.” I laugh shaking my head.

“Touché,” she says with a grin
.

We take the garage elevator up to the main lobby.

On our way toward the main elevators, I hear someone call my name.

“Ashley, is that you?” a familiar voice asks from behind me.

Quinn and I both turn toward the voice to see Jason approaching us.

“I thought that was you,” he says as he gets closer. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Quinn sneers, not trying one bit to hide her disdain. “What do you want, dipshit?”

“Quinn, a pleasure as always,” he says. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. The accident was all over the news.”

“Yeah, I’m aware the whole country got to hear all about the worst day of my life. I was nearly killed by a drunk driver, and my son
was
killed by him. How the hell do you think I’m doing, Jason?”

His face pales at the mention of Daniel. We were careful to keep him out of the news, so of course he had no idea. Doesn’t matter though… Every time someone asks me the same idiotic questions about the accident, I have to think about my sweet little boy who didn’t make it through.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Nothing was ever said about that,” he says, embarrassment evident in his voice.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Come on, Ash. We’re going to be late.” Quinn puts her hand on my shoulder, attempting to guide me forward as the elevator in front of us opens. “I’d like to say it was great to see you, dickhead, but it wasn’t,” she says, leading me inside the elevator car, careful not to use much force.

I cautiously follow her lead. It’s hard to balance with only one good leg and it’s even harder using a crutch with only one good arm on a marble floor.

“I don’t want to keep you. I’m sorry for your loss. It was good seeing you.” He says before we walk into the elevator.

“Ugh, if I never see him again, it will be too soon,” Quinn says as soon as the doors slide closed. “He’s got balls though. I’ll give him that. First, the flowers he sent to the hospital, and then actually approaching you?” She shakes her head. “I wonder what he’s doing here. And what the hell was up with the ‘It’s good to see you’?”

“I forgot he works in this building. It didn’t dawn on me until I saw him. And who gives a shit what he wants or says? Like you said, if I never see him again, it’ll be too soon. Let’s go get this shit started.”

An hour later, I can’t get out of that office fast enough. Sixty minutes of psychobabble bullshit should be considered a torture technique. I’d wanted to stab my own ear drums out the whole time I was listening to that uppity woman with her damn librarian bun and glasses on a string ask question after question.

“What do you hope to get out of therapy, Ashley?”

My best friend and stalker ex-boyfriend off my damn back.

“Are you familiar with the grieving process, Ashley?”

No, I’ve never lost a kid before, dumbass.

Sometimes smart people say the stupidest shit. I’d tuned her out after I asked her if she’d ever lost a child and she said no. She has no idea what I’m going through.

Chapter 24

Tanner

“I’ve set everything up, Quinn. Just get her to meet with him,” I say.

“She not going to like this, Tanner. The minute I tell her you set this all up for her, she’s going to flip her shit again,” she says, sounding tired and stressed.

“So don’t tell her that I set it up for her. Tell her you did. I don’t need credit for this shit. I just need to know she’s going to be okay. Who knows how long she’s going to keep shutting me out? She may never take me back, but at least I’ll know that she’s set.”

“Okay, I’ll try. I’ll let you know how it goes,” she says before hanging up, not sounding terribly optimistic.

Ashley’s been even more hostile in the two weeks since she began going to therapy. She also started physical therapy at the beginning of the week, and both have made her more aggressive toward Quinn and me, which we hadn’t thought possible. We’ve become the enemy, although me more so than Quinn. At least she isn’t hostile to Quinn all the time. I’m starting to think it would’ve been a better idea to hire a private nurse for Ashley since my presence only makes her madder. I offered myself up to help her out of my own selfish need to be nearby, but at what cost?

With her pulling further and further away, I’m more and more afraid of what the future holds for Ashley. She’s shown no signs of wanting to get back to her life. She doesn’t want to see anyone. From what I can tell, she has no interest in writing at all anymore. What if she never finds a way to move on with her life?

With her refusing to rely on me, I’ve wanted to do something to make sure that Ashley would have resources to fall back on no matter what. Recently, I contacted a lawyer to discuss the possibility of filing a civil suit against the driver of the car that hit her. After all of the trauma and pain Ashley’s gone through, she’s entitled to a settlement, especially when the bastard who killed our son is only going to sit in jail for ten years—not nearly long enough. When I explained Ashley’s fragile state to the lawyer, he agreed to do all the leg work he can before meeting with her. Even so, he has to sit down with Ashley at some point to get her medical record release form and have her sign off on everything. With all the initial prep work out of the way, the lawyer needs to meet her soon. If I have it my way, that drunk bastard won’t have two pennies to rub together when he gets out of jail.

I hope Quinn can get her to meet with the lawyer. I don’t know if she’ll want to bother since she’s already pretty set with the sum the insurance company gave her—not that it will fix a damn thing, but at least she can take her time healing and doesn’t have to rush back into life—a life she had been planning completely around having Daniel.

Yesterday, I received a call from the cemetery. Daniel’s head stone has finally been erected. I haven’t been to visit since the funeral, and I think heading there will do me some good. As weird as it may sound, I want to see my son. Even though he never took a single breath, he’s still my son… and every boy needs his dad. I want to see the headstone marking his eternal resting place, and Daniel deserves visits from his parents. I know Ashley isn’t up to, but I’ll go gladly.

Pulling into the cemetery brings me back to the last time I was here. Sadness washes over me in waves, and I suddenly want to turn around and go back home, but I won’t. I force myself out of the car and make the trek over to Daniel’s plot.

The headstone stands at the head of his grave, and I can’t tear my eyes from the name engraved on it. I couldn’t be more proud to have this little boy bear my name. I would’ve fought Ashley until the end of time over it, so I’m glad she didn’t get a say.

I place the teddy bear I’ve brought for him next to his headstone and lean over to place a kiss on the cool slab of rock.

“Hey, buddy,” I say, looking down at his grave. It feels odd to stand here, talking to the memory of my son, but it also brings me a weird sense of calm. “I love you. I want you to know that. From the beginning, I loved you. It may not have seemed that way, but I promise I did. I messed up, but the moment I realized that you were mine, my whole life changed. All I could do was think about being a father—your father. I’m not proud of my behavior. I like to think I’m a good man, but I wasn’t at that time. I’m really sad I missed you growing in Mommy’s belly. I wish I could’ve sung to you and told you stories. I wish I’d gotten to listen to your heartbeat and feel you kick. I missed all that and it’s all my fault, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t love you. I hope you’re at peace, sweet boy.”

I place another kiss on his grave marker and head back to my car. It feels like a “hang at home and drown your sorrows in a few beers” kind of night. Putting up a strong front is becoming more and more difficult, and lately, I’ve been waking every morning to thoughts of Daniel and wishing for everything that could’ve been. I’d bought a pint-sized Garrison jersey for the baby almost as soon as I’d come to my senses over Ashley, and now it just lies on the dresser in the corner of my room, mocking me. I can’t bear to part with it. I hadn’t known for sure that Ashley was having a boy, but deep down, I’d felt she was. Now, that jersey just reminds me of all the ways I failed her, and each day feels like more of a battle than the last. I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up.

Chapter 25

Ashley

This has been the most grueling week I’ve had since coming home from the hospital and burying Daniel. I’d thought that when I got my cast removed, it would make me feel better—the same with my huge leg brace—but I hadn’t factored in physical therapy, and that shit is a bitch. Everything fucking hurts, but in a completely different way to being broken and injured, so I’m not even used to it. So even though I’m slightly more mobile now, I’m in more pain.

Quinn doesn’t seem to understand that fact, and she keeps telling me I’m more of bitch now than when I was stuck in bed. On top of that, we got into a huge argument over some stupid civil suit shit she set up a few days ago. All she would tell me was that a lawyer was coming by so I could sign a bunch of papers and that he would handle the rest.

I tried to explain to her that I didn’t want any more money, but she wouldn’t have it.

“The asshole’s lucky that he only got ten years. He’s lucky I’m not a judge. His ass would never see the outside world again. Think of this as part of his plea deal,” she’d reasoned.

“That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“It does to me, and that’s all that matters. I know you have plenty of coverage between both your car insurance and your health insurance, but who knows if that’s going to be enough. Major surgeries, a seven day hospital stay and a year’s worth of physical therapy come with a hefty price tag,” she said, raising her eyebrows as if daring me to argue with her.

She had me there. I’d never thought of that, so I’d conceded.

A huge smile had spread across her face then, as if she’d just won’t the battle of her life. “That was easier than I thought.”

Today’s battle isn’t so easy.

When Dr. Paterson tells me it’s time to warm up to the idea of visiting Daniel, I’m immediately against it. I don’t know if I can go through the agony of leaving him there again. It was hard enough the first time. I don’t trust myself not to do something crazily morbid, like dig up his coffin and try to bring it home with me. The fact that I’ve even thought about that scenario at all should be a red flag that I’m royally fucked up, but I’m in denial, so it’s okay.

I bitch about it to Quinn the whole way home.

She sits there listening quietly, yet intently, only to tell me she agrees with Dr. Paterson as soon as I finish my rant. “She right. Its time.”

Quinn’s off today because she’s pissed at her dad. At first, I’d been glad not to have to deal with Tanner, but right now, I’m thinking it would’ve been better if he were here instead.

“No, it’s not,” I say harshly.

“Yes, it is. Today’s a perfect day. It must be fate that my daddy dearest is a douche-bucket and pissed me off. It’s a sign!” She sounds far more excited than she should at the prospect of visiting my son’s grave.

“No,” I say, raising my voice. I won’t budge on this, but apparently neither will she.

After another ten minutes of fighting, I tune her out. I take out my phone to distract myself, and distract me it does, so much so that I don’t even notice we’ve pulled into the cemetery until Quinn puts the car in park.

I want to yell and scream at her for making this decision for me, but it’s too late for that. Regardless of if I feel ready or not, Quinn has deemed me so, and that’s that.

I sit in the car for a while, staring out the window in the direction of Daniel’s grave, wishing that I could just tell Quinn to back the fuck off and take me home. As much as I’m not ready for this, I can’t be this close to him and not see him.

When I finally get out of the car, the ground is wet and mushy, which seems appropriate for a cemetery. Most of the funeral is a huge blur in my memory, and I only really remember the hole in the ground and Daniel’s casket. Today, an eerie fog mixes with the drizzle, making the ground look too somber to be the place my little boy will spend all of eternity.

It’s colder than normal for a day in late April, and the wind gives me goose bumps as I walk along, my crutch sinking slightly into the soggy ground. I’m almost worried I won’t make it to him. Before we’ve made it a few yards, Quinn pulls the crutch out from under my arm and replaces it with her shoulder.