“I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I guess I’m not lighting any fires for you.”

This is true, but Frankie wants to be kind. “I can see this is all too soon for you, Tom. It takes time to heal. Until you do, you shouldn’t force yourself to get back into circulation.”

“You’re so right. This is my first date since . . .” His voice trails off. “But Patty’s been nagging me for months to get back in the game.”

“Yeah, she’s a force of nature.”

He laughs. “Isn’t she, though?”

“But you’re not ready.”

“Are you?”

“It’s not so fresh for me.”

He looks at her. “I’m sorry. Here I’ve been talking about Theresa all evening, and I should have asked about your husband. What happened to him?”

“Patty didn’t tell you?”

“All she told me was that it was a few years ago.”

She is grateful for Patty’s discretion. It’s painful enough that so many of Frankie’s colleagues know the truth. “He had a heart attack. It was completely unexpected.” In more ways than one. “It happened three years ago, so I’ve had time to adjust.”

“But do we ever, really? Adjust?”

She considers the question. Thinks about the months after her husband, Joe, died, when she lay awake at night, tormented by questions that have no answers. By grief mingled with rage. No, she will never really adjust, because now she questions everything she once believed in, everything she took for granted.

“The truth is I’m still not over his death,” she admits.

“In a way, it’s kind of comforting, knowing that I’m not the only one who’s having a hard time.”

She smiles. “I think you must have been a really good husband.”

“I could have been a better one.”

“Remember that, if you ever get married again. But right now, I think you should just take care of yourself.” She reaches for her purse. “It was nice meeting you, Tom,” she says, and she means it, even though there are no sparks between them, and there probably never will be. “It’s late, and I should head home.”

“I know this wasn’t the world’s best date, but can I call you sometime? When I am feeling ready?”

“Maybe. I’ll let you know.”

But as she walks back to her apartment, Frankie already knows they won’t be seeing each other again. Sometimes there are no second chances at happiness. Sometimes, merely being content with your life is enough. The air is so cold it feels like she’s inhaling needles, but it reminds her she is alive.

Unlike her husband. Unlike Taryn Moore. Unlike all the other lost souls whose bodies have passed beneath her gaze.

She takes another deep breath, grateful for its sting, and walks the rest of the way home.

BEFORE

CHAPTER 8

TARYN

She really should be a better friend to Cody. He was the one person who always answered his phone when she needed a favor, the one person who tolerated her bad moods. The two of them were the black sheep of the flock, and ever since they’d met last year, when he’d chosen the seat next to hers in Western Lit, they’d been hanging out together, if only because black sheep always recognized their fellow outcasts. So yes, she really should be nicer to him, but sometimes it irritated her, the way he was always hovering nearby, trying to be helpful. Trying to burrow his way deeper into her life. She wasn’t blind; she knew why he saved her a seat in class, why he shared his class notes and slipped her candy bars when she was hungry. She would never like him the way he wanted her to like him, and how could she, when there was so much about him she found unattractive? It wasn’t just his waddling walk or the crumbs that always stuck to the front of his sweaters. No, it was his sheer neediness that annoyed her, even though she did understand where it came from. Like her, he was the kid who never fit in, the kid who was desperate to prove himself.

She looked at him across the library table, where they both sat working. For the past hour he’d been hunched in his chair, working on the class paper that was due in two days, but he had tapped out scarcely two sentences on his laptop. As usual he was wearing his red baseball cap with the grease-stained bill, and it was pulled so low over his forehead that she couldn’t see his eyes.

“Why don’t you ever take that thing off?” she asked him.

“Huh?”

“Your hat. I never see you without it.”

“It’s the Red Sox.”

“Well, you should at least wash it.”

He pulled it off, leaving a hat-shaped indentation in his baby-fine blond hair, and smiled down at the brim. “My dad bought this for me when we went to a Red Sox game. They lost that day to the Yankees, but it was still pretty great, being in the stands. Eating hot dogs and ice cream. Having my dad there with me.” Cody caressed the grease stain on the brim, like Aladdin rubbing his magic lamp, hoping for the genie to appear. “It was the last day we spent together. Before . . . you know.”

“Where’s he living now?”

“Somewhere in Arizona. I got a card from him at Christmas. He said maybe I could come visit him one of these days. Said he’ll take me camping.”

No, he won’t, she thought. Because dads who left their families never kept any of the promises they made. They didn’t want visits. They didn’t want to be reminded of the kids they’d abandoned. They wanted to forget they even existed.

Cody sighed and mashed the Red Sox hat back onto his head. “You ever see your dad?”

“Never. Not in years. He doesn’t care, and I don’t either.”

“Of course you care. He’s your dad.”

“Well, I don’t.” She stuffed her books and papers into her backpack and rose to leave. “Neither should you.”

“Taryn, wait.”

By the time he caught up with her, she was already out of the building and walking so fast across the quad that he was panting hard just to stay apace.

“I’m sorry I mentioned your dad,” he says.

“I don’t want to talk about him. Not ever.”

“Maybe you need to talk about him. Look, I know he walked out on you, but so did my dad. It’s something we just have to live with. It hurts, but it also makes us stronger.”

“No, it doesn’t. You know what it makes us? Damaged. It makes us rejects.”

She halted in the center of the quad and turned to face him. He flinched, as if she were about to strike him. As if he were afraid of her, which he probably was, on some level. Afraid of losing her or infuriating his one good friend on this campus.

“When someone says they love you, it should mean forever,” she said. “It should be something you can count on, something you can stake your life on. But my dad, he couldn’t be bothered to stick around. He left the people he was supposed to love. I hope he burns in hell.”

Cody stared at her, taken aback by her fury. “I’d never do that to you, Taryn,” he said softly.

The breath suddenly whooshed out of her; so did the rage. “I know.”

Cody touched her arm, tentatively, as if she might singe him. When she didn’t pull away, he put his arm around her shoulder. His touch was meant to be comforting, but she didn’t want him to get the idea there could ever be anything between them, not in the way he hoped.

She pulled away. “I’m done studying for the night. I’m going home.”

“I’ll walk you there.”

“No, I’m fine. See you tomorrow.”

“Taryn?” he called, so plaintively that she couldn’t just walk away. She turned to see him standing alone under the lamppost. His hulking body cast a mountainous shadow. “Liam’s not worth it,” he said. “You can do better. A lot better.”

“Why are you talking about him?”

“Because that’s what this is really all about, isn’t it? It’s not about your dad leaving you. It’s about Liam ignoring you. Shutting you out. You don’t need him.”

“You don’t understand anything about him and me.”

“I understand more than you think. I understand he doesn’t deserve you. What I don’t understand is why you won’t let him go, when there are other guys who’d be better for you. Who want to be with you.” She couldn’t see his eyes in the shadow of his baseball cap, but she could hear the longing in his voice. “I know you’ve been with him forever, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to last.”

“It’s what we planned. It’s why I’m on this campus. Because we promised to stick together, no matter what.”

“Then why isn’t he here? Why doesn’t he answer when you call?”

“Because he’s studying. Or he’s in class.”

“He’s not in class now.”

She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Liam’s number. The call went straight to voice mail. She stared at the screen, and a possibility dawned on her, one she’d refused to consider.

“Give me your phone,” she said to Cody.

“Is something wrong with yours?”

“Just give it to me.”

He handed his phone to her and watched as she called Liam. It rang three times, and then she heard: “Hello?”

“I’ve been calling you all day. You never called back.”

There was a long silence. Too long. “I can’t talk now, Taryn. I’m in the middle of something.”

“In the middle of what? I need to see you.”