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Back Until I Find You Save as PDF
Chapters (60)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. EPILOGUE
  56. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  57. DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
  58. Also by Rea Frey
  59. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  60. Newsletter Sign-up

Even though it was so good to see him. Even though I could have sat there all day and listened to him talk. I text Jess and Beth and we plan to meet at Wilder. As I lock up and leave the house, I worry that my life is already becoming like Groundhog Day—park, lessons, home, repeat.

I bump over the cement, take the appropriate turns, and think about my last solo walk to Wilder. Already, I feel silly—like maybe I did imagine being followed. On the way, Jake pops into my mind again. The way he leaned in, how his lips whispered in my ear. The way he felt in my arms.

Home.

That word sends a stab of guilt through my heart. Is it a betrayal to Chris’s memory to even talk to Jake? To reconnect so easily with someone I was once so passionate about? Though I’ve thought of Jake over the years, I haven’t allowed myself to go down that rabbit hole of memory besides a cursory thought or two. I wasn’t available. He’d moved on. I was always busy. He wasn’t in Chicago. I lost myself in the cocoon of domesticity while I could, and though life with Chris was always good, it was never wild or passionate. It was warm, comfortable, safe. And after talking to Dr. Gibbons, I’m realizing I have the freedom to now compose my life the way I choose. It doesn’t all have to be a product of circumstance.

Once at the park, I pick up my pace to nab the same park bench.

“Bec! Over here!”

I slow to a chorus of hellos, some from moms I know and some from moms I don’t.

“Lucky you. You get the last spot,” Jess says.

I tug the stroller toward her voice and she helps me wedge Jackson’s stroller in with the others behind the bench. My hands bump over the other strollers. There are five. Mine fits in the second space from the right. I grab Jackson’s ankle and give the bells a gentle shake. I picture his sweet smile and my heart swells. I sit on the bench.

“Hey, girl.”

I smile at Beth. “Hey.”

“I just want to say how badass that was at Jess’s party the other day. Seriously.”

“Hardly.” My face warms as I adjust the top on my travel coffee mug.

“What was badass?” asks Ramona, a mom I’ve met a few times. A few others chime in, and I want to disappear into the turf. They call me brave. They say they would have done the same thing. They tell me I’m their hero.