Chapter 178
Ethan
I woke up early, my hand instinctively reaching across the bed only to find Amelia's side empty.
I pulled myself out of bed and followed the soft glow of light into the living room. There I found Amelia, cross-legged on the couch, intensely focused on her tablet. She was so absorbed she didn't even notice my approach.
Looking over her shoulder, I saw she was creating a document titled "Saying Goodbye to the Past." She'd made a list: hiking, rock climbing, boxing, motorcycle riding, piano playing. Each item represented something William had taught her or arranged for her to learn. She was planning a ritual—a way to reconcile with her past.
"What are you doing up so early?" I asked, my voice still rough from sleep.
Amelia looked up, her green eyes filled with a mixture of determination and sadness that made my chest tighten. "I'm planning how to say goodbye," she said simply.
I sat beside her, studying the list on her screen. Understanding washed over me. "These are all things your grandfather taught you."
"Yes. I need to do this, Ethan. I need to face these memories head-on before I can truly move forward."
The decision was immediate and instinctive. "Let me come with you."
My offer seemed to touch something deep within her. "You don't have to—"
"I want to," I interrupted firmly. "You shouldn't do this alone."
I watched her blink back tears, her strength in the face of pain still astonishing me after all this time. "Thank you."
"Whatever you need, I'm here," I promised, then added, "Catherine's already asked to take the kids for the weekend. It's like she knew."
I glanced at her list again. "Motorcycle riding first? That seems like a good place to start."
An hour later, we stood in the building's garage. I watched Amelia's reaction as she spotted the black Ducati I'd arranged. Her steps faltered, and I knew immediately she was recognizing its similarity to the one William had taught her to ride on. I could almost see the memories washing over her—pain, nostalgia, and something else... determination.
As we rode through Manhattan's streets, Amelia's arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I could feel her tears dampening my jacket before they were whipped away by the wind. I understood what she needed from this—the perfect combination of freedom and grief.
By mid-morning, we reached the Hudson River Valley hiking trail. I pulled a baseball cap from my pocket and carefully placed it on her head, adjusting it to shield her eyes from the sun.
"William brought me here every spring," she explained as we began the ascent. "He said hiking was like life—it seems endless and difficult when you're in the middle of it, but every step brings you closer to the summit."
I stayed quiet, knowing she needed space to remember, to feel, to process. When we reached the summit overlooking the valley, Amelia walked to the edge and released a scream that seemed to contain all her anger, grief, and pain. The sound echoed across the landscape, powerful and raw.
"He taught me that too," she said when her voice returned. "How to scream when words weren't enough."
"Smart man," I said softly, fighting the urge to shield her from this pain.
"He was," she agreed, her voice breaking. "But he also carried so much guilt. I understand now what he meant when he said hiking was like life. He was talking about his own journey—the burden of protecting my father even knowing what he'd done to my mother."
I put my arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Whatever mistakes William made, he loved you fiercely. That much is clear."
"I know," she whispered. "I just wish..."
"That he'd told you the truth while he was alive?"
She nodded, unable to speak.
"He was trying to protect you, in his way," I said, thinking of my own secrets, the truths I'd withheld to shield her. "And now, whatever happens, you have me and the kids. We're your family now."
After a moment of silence, watching the valley stretch before us, we began our descent. I noticed each of Amelia's steps seemed lighter somehow, as if she were leaving pieces of her burden at the summit.
We then arrived at James's Blue Note underground boxing ring.
I watched with growing surprise as Amelia wrapped her hands and slipped on red gloves, going through warm-up motions that showed years of training.
The force of her combination on the heavy bag sent a jolt of surprise through me. "Where did you learn to do that?"
"William hired a former heavyweight champion to teach me," she explained, throwing another jab-cross-hook combination with startling precision. "He said a woman should always know how to defend herself, especially in our world."
I nodded, newfound respect mixing with understanding. "He was right."
We squared off for some light sparring, and I couldn't hide my surprise when she landed a quick jab to my shoulder. I recovered quickly, matching her movements, careful not to hit too hard but giving her enough resistance to make it feel real.
I found myself wincing when she took a hit, my protective instincts warring with my respect for what she needed. By the time we finished, we were both breathing hard, sweat glistening on our skin, and I noticed Amelia looked more alive than she had in days.
We collapsed onto the mats in the rest area, staring at the ceiling.
"How are you feeling?" I asked softly, turning my head to study her profile.
She considered the question seriously. "It hurts," she admitted. "More than I expected. William was... he was my only real family for so long. He poured so much time and energy into me, arranged my whole life. And then to learn he knew about my mother's death, that he protected my father..." She shook her head. "It shattered something in me."
I turned on my side to face her fully. "That's understandable."
"But doing these things, remembering him, with you beside me—it's helped. I'm not okay, not completely. But I think I'm ready for our wedding. Ready to move forward, to build our own memories."
I reached out, my fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face. "We'll make new memories," I promised, my voice low and intense. "You, me, Lucas, and Ella. Better ones."
Looking into her eyes, I could see she believed me. For the first time since reading William's journal, I saw a sense of peace settling over her. The past couldn't be changed, but our future—was still unwritten, and I silently vowed to make it everything she deserved.