“You know what?” she said, her voice sharp as cut glass. “You do what the hell you want. But don’t expect me to stick around and watch.”

With that, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room.

Jamar told himself to go after her. If he let her leave this house without talking this through, it would be the biggest mistake he could ever make.

But the concoction of fury, anguish, and fear flowing in his veins wouldn’t allow him to take a single step.

She was wrong. This wasn’t about guilt. It was about him doing what he had to do in order to be able to look himself in the mirror.

He would fix this with Taylor. He would figure out a way to make her see that he was doing this, in part, for her. Because he cared about her. For now, he just had to get through the damn workout.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

A crisp breeze carried the delicate scent of flowers. Several birds landed on the spindly, leafless branches of the tree overhead, their sharp chirps piercing the stillness of the afternoon.

His hands shoved deep into his pockets, Jamar squeezed his fists tight as he stared down at the charcoal-gray headstone. The sun reflected off the flecks of silver speckled throughout the polished stone, making it seem as though there were dancing lights embedded in the hard slab.

How long had it been since he’d arrived at this gravesite? An hour? Two? He’d lost track of the time, yet in all the minutes that had ticked by since he’d gotten here, Jamar still couldn’t put voice to what he wanted to say.

What words of apology would ever suffice?

He stared at the block letters and numbers etched into stone and experienced that odd feeling of disassociation that had occurred the few times he’d visited this memorial. In some ways he was still unable to accept that Silas lay here, even after eight long years. If only he could talk to him one last time. If only he could tell him how sorry he was, and beg for his forgiveness.

But that would never happen.

He would never hear I forgive you from Silas. All he could do was hold on to the belief that his best friend would extend to him the grace and compassion he’d shown so many times while he was alive. It’s the only way Jamar would gain a semblance of peace.

Shame tore through him for admitting, even to himself, that he sought forgiveness, that he wished for peace. He didn’t deserve either.

But he couldn’t go on like this. He ached for the tiniest shred of absolution from the guilt that had plagued him for so long.

“I wondered if I’d find you here.”