Fresh tears stream down my face. How is it even possible to cry anymore? Everything he said hit me deep. I could never ever regret him. How can I regret someone who knew how to glue all of the pieces of me back together?

And rain . . . the only thing I think about when it rains these days are his kisses. Anything that happened before has been washed away by new kinder storms.

Next, I reach inside and pull out a small box that rattles when I shake it. My fingers tremble as I open the lid and what I see causes an excruciating tightness in my chest. Running my fingers along the silver chain, I can’t take my eyes off the tiny umbrella or the blue glass crystal raindrop that hangs under it. It’s gorgeous. I unclasp it and place it around my neck before returning my attention to the envelope.

I pull Asher’s iPod off my dresser and place the small buds in my ears. As soon as I settle into my bed, I hit play. Asher’s voice begins to sing Everything by Lifehouse, and when I close my eyes, I can see him on the couch playing for me. Pressing the charm of my new necklace between my fingers, I slowly drift to sleep with the beautiful words filling my ears.

Chapter 27

IT HAS BEEN FIFTEEN DAYS OF EMPTINESS.

It has been 360 hours of loneliness.

It has been 21,600 minutes of missing him, but I’m still ten times more alive than I was in the days before I met him.

Today is the first time I’ve gone to work in two months. I never left Asher’s side in his last few weeks, and I’ve spent the last two trying to figure out what to do without him. This feels like a turning point for me . . . I can either choose to move forward, or fall back into the place I was in after Drew raped me.

As I step into the diner, the smell of fried food instantly hits me and I’m immediately reminded of memories with Asher. I miss the days of watching the door, waiting for him to come in.

They always say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone, but I figured out a long time ago that Asher was special. Now I have an angel watching over me.

My mom walks into the kitchen where I’m standing, staring into space. If she was in a hurry before, she doesn’t show it now. Her green eyes are warm as a sympathetic smile touches her lips.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” she asks, wiping her hands on her apron. Having her here with me makes this so much easier. She hasn’t been my rock . . . she’s been my whole world.

I take a deep breath. I’m ready.

“Yes,” I reply, returning her smile. “It’s nice to get out of the house for once. I’m actually starting to resent the paint color on my walls.”

“You can paint them, you know.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.

“Well, I need to get back up front, but let me know if you need a break today,” she says, wrapping her thin arms around me. Over and over the last few months, I’ve realized that she’s my home. It doesn’t matter where we are or what we have as long as we have each other. We’re where we need to be.

“I’ll be okay,” I whisper, pulling her closer to me.

“Okay, I know the others are excited to see you too.” She lets go of me and walks out, looking back one more time before closing the door. I take one more deep breath and clock in. It’s one foot in front of the other from here on out. It’s the only way I’m going to get through this.

The first thing I see when I walk in the dining room is my regular group of farmers. I never thought that I’d miss them, but I did. It’s interesting how people can become such a big part of your life before you even start to realize it.

And the best part . . . they smile as soon as they see me walking toward them. This is just going to be another day as long as I let it be.

“Hey, Kate, we haven’t seen you around here in forever. What have you been up to?” one of them asks as they all eye me intently.

“I’ve been . . . helping a friend,” I admit lightly, biting my lip to hold back any emotions that threaten when I think of Asher. Even though I’m learning to deal with it a little more each day, it’s hard to verbalize. For some reason, it makes it more real.

“Well, we’re glad you’re back. I like your mom and all, but you’re my favorite waitress.”

A smile spreads across my face.

This is my home too.

After the early morning rush ends, Ms. Carter comes in and takes her normal seat. When I bring out her cinnamon roll and cup of decaf, she smiles.

“Hey, Ms. Carter, I’ve missed you. How’s bridge club?” I ask, trying to continue with my normal routine.

She reaches for my hand and pulls me closer to the table. “You don’t have to pretend for me,” she says quietly.

I glance around the restaurant making sure that no one else heard her. “I’m not.” I don’t think I’m pretending; I’m just holding stuff in. To me, there is a difference.

“Have you even let yourself cry?”

“Every day,” I reply honestly. I’ve tried not to close myself off this time. I know better than that.

“Sit down,” she says, pointing to the seat across from her.

I shake my head, glancing around nervously. “I can’t. I’m working.”

I stand motionless as she waves my mom over. What is she up to?

“Can Kate take a break for a few minutes? I have something I need to talk to her about,” Ms. Carter says, not looking in my direction even once.

My mom eyes me curiously before turning her attention back to Ms. Carter. “I suppose I can handle things for a few minutes.” She pats me on the shoulder before walking away. “I’ll yell if I need you.”

I nod, sliding into the empty seat. The booths are normally comfortable, but right now I feel like I’m sitting on a wooden board. I’ve known this woman for years, but up until a few minutes ago I thought she was just a nice woman who didn’t notice much.

I think all my thoughts and conceptions are about to be proven wrong.

“Don’t worry, Kate, I’m not going to ask you to go to bridge with me again.” She pauses, taking a sip from her coffee cup. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

I sigh, resting my crossed arms on the table. “I’m going to be fine. I just need some time to find my new normal.”

“Who’s helping you with that?” she asks, taking another sip from her coffee cup.

“My mom is when I let her. Other than that it’s just me,” I admit sadly, stealing a quick glance out the window. It’s so hard to talk about my feelings.

She reaches into her purse and pulls out a plastic bag filled with what looks like napkins from the diner.

She pulls out the top one and places it front on me. At first I don’t believe what my eyes are seeing. It’s Asher’s handwriting on a napkin like I’ve seen many times before.

My eyes gloss over, making the print impossible to read. “Where did you get this?” I ask, feeling the first tear roll down my cheek.

Her hand covers mine, and I look up to see her eyes are glossed over too. “There was this young man who gave them to me one day when I came in for my coffee. I didn’t know who he was at the time, but after spending a few minutes with him, I knew one thing.” She stops, smiling sadly. “He loved the beautiful girl who I come to this diner to see every morning.”

Rolling the tiny raindrop that hangs from my neck between my fingers, I wait for her to continue.

“You didn’t think I came in here every day for this crap they call coffee, did you? Seriously, they need to put some more grounds in before they brew it.” She tilts her head to the side, regaining her serious expression. “I’d noticed how much you’d changed the last few months. One day as I was leaving the diner, he was walking in, so I stopped to thank him. I’d seen you with him a few times and put two and two together.”

I shake my head, feeling my lips tremble. “But why the napkins? I don’t get it.”

She nods, squeezing my hand tighter. “A couple months ago he stopped by the diner, but you weren’t working. The boy was a mess, so I asked him if he’d like to sit and have coffee with me, and he surprisingly agreed. It took a very long time for him to gain any composure when I asked him what was wrong. Anyway, we talked for almost an hour about Carrington, and when I mentioned that I came here every day just to see you, he looked so broken up. He asked if I could keep a secret, and reached into his coat pocket and handed me this bag. He said there would come a day when you would need these, and he wouldn’t be here to give them to you.”

She laughs sadly, glancing at the full dining room. “I scolded him. I told him if he even thought about leaving you, I’d come find him. He got really quiet and told me he didn’t have a choice. He said he’d never leave you if he had a choice.“ A tear rolls out of the corner of her eye.

“Wait, when was this?” I ask, leaning as far over the table as my body will let me.

“It was the day before he was admitted to the hospital.”

Out of habit, my eyes focus up to the ceiling. He knew he was getting sicker. He knew his days were growing fewer and fewer, but he was still thinking about me.

“I figured now that you’re back at work, you might be ready for these,” she cries, handing me the bag. “You’re supposed to read the one I took out first.”

My attention goes back to the paper napkin that sits right in front of me on the table. I carefully pick it up, running it between my fingers.

I wipe the rapid flowing tears from my eyes and look across the table to see Ms. Carter doing the same thing. “Thank you,” I mouth.

“Oh, Katie girl, I’m here if you need me. You know, I lost my husband to cancer, too.”

“It doesn’t feel quite fair,” I say, wiping my eyes.

“I know, but I bet you don’t regret one minute you spent with him.”

I never will. When I think of him and the memories we created together, it washes the paralyzing sadness that coats my heart away. “Never,” I whisper.