Maybe Tim will never forgive me, but if he could be there for Josh, that’s better than nothing.

_____

After we finish dinner, Josh stays behind to do his homework while I tug on my coat and boots. I could take Josh along with me to Tim’s house, but just in case we get a frosty welcome, I don’t want my son around. I fully expect that Tim won’t ever forgive me for this. And either way, this won’t be a pleasant conversation.

There are still a couple of inches of dusty snow on the ground as I walk the familiar path between my house and Tim’s. How many times had I made this journey as a child? Too many to count. Every time I left the house, it felt like the last words out of my mouth were, Going to Tim’s house! Be back later!

I should have trusted him. I should’ve known he would never do anything that horrible. Shane had me completely brainwashed. Not that it’s any excuse, but I wanted so badly to believe that my son’s father wasn’t a monster.

I was wrong.

I stand on Tim’s front porch, hugging myself, working up the courage to ring the doorbell. It takes me at least a minute or two, and then before I can second-guess myself, I reach out and push my index finger into the bell.

I stand there for close to another minute. There’s a very real chance they might not open the door for me. That I might have to trudge back to my house without even getting to talk to Tim, much less tell him how sorry I am and have him slam the door in my face.

But then the locks turn. I plaster a smile on my face just in time for the door to swing open. But it’s not Tim at the door. It’s Barbara Reese.

I haven’t seen Mrs. Reese in over a decade, but she looks at least two decades older—the same as my mother did before Pamela Nelson killed her. The last time I saw her, her hair was the same maple color as Tim’s is, but now it’s gone all white.

“Hi!” I wring my hands together. “Mrs. Reese, it’s me—Brooke.”

“Yes,” she muses. “I know.”

Of course she knows. She hasn’t been living on another planet for the last three months.

“I…” I dart my gaze around—I’m having trouble looking her in the eyes. “I was wondering if… if Tim is around?”

“Yes,” she says, “he is.”

She is not going to make this easy for me. It’s what I deserve though.

“Could I talk to him?” I ask.