Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 101398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
I take the gesture as an opening, cutting Josie off to be the next at Summer’s casket. With one hand to the wood, I close my eyes and imagine her face to make it easier to speak with her. Silently, I vow to keep my promises and to keep pushing to be there for Bennett until he lets me in. I can imagine her smile and even feel the warmth of her skin under all the kisses I was privileged enough to give her.
Ignoring the wind, I pull off my black sweater to reveal my pink dress and slide her pink sunglasses over my face. “Pink buddies forever, Summblebee.”
Bennett’s gaze follows me now as I step away from Summer for a final time and walk toward him, a fire burning inside it that’s liable to set my whole body ablaze.
Heart racing and breaking at the same time, I stop in front of the love of my life and wait. For permission, for a sign, for something I don’t fully understand until I have it.
It’s a gentle sway—a closing of a gap between Bennett’s chest and mine—but it’s all the signal I need. Without delay, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull his body to mine, soaking in the raging heat of his anguish with all I have. He hugs me back, crossing his arms at the back of my waist and digging his face into my neck. I feel the salty sting of his fresh tears, and without thinking, I squeeze him tighter.
My whisper is a desperate plea. “I still love you, Bennett. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
On the surface, it feels inappropriate and trite. But in the depths of my being, I know it’s the right thing to say. Bennett doesn’t want some hollow apology from me today any more than he wanted regrets for spilled milk. He wants his daughter, and by God, so do I. But what his daughter wanted was for the bond she formed with the two of us to carry on without her, and Bennett needs the reassurance that it’s a promise I intend to keep.
His face is startled as I break from the hug and step away, so I hold his eyes just long enough to settle them. When I step away and Josie steps in, I don’t look back.
With my chin high and my chest aching, I make the long walk from the cemetery to my waiting car and climb inside. Only then do I let my tears free.
I can’t think of anything I should’ve said; I can’t think of anything I regret at all. Because even knowing this is how it would end, I’d do it all again.
The truth is, Summer changed my life, and she’ll still be changing it long after the leaves fall.
Saturday, September 18th
Bennett
“You know I don’t want to have to say this, Ben, but I’m going to need your keys.”
“Whatev-er, Clay. Fuck they keys.”
Clay sighs, and I laugh. “Yeah, I need them now, Ben.”
I dig in my pocket for a while, but I don’t feel anything on my fingers until I check the other pocket. It’s sharper. I pull them out and toss them on the bar, except they don’t land where I’m aiming and instead shoot over to the other side, crashing against the bottle of Pappy’s bourbon with a clink.
Damn, it tastes good.
Clay’s face is a mask of too many emotions for me to read as he pockets my projectile keys and pours me another glass of amber liquid. I shake the glass at him happily before turning it upside down and relishing the burn as it fills my throat.
Clay looks at me for a long moment, his face way too sad for how good this liquor tastes, and I shake my head at him. “Stop mopin’, wouldya?”
He sighs again, turning away and heading to the other end of the bar to help someone else.
Thank fuck.
I don’t need some miserable fucker reminding me that my daughter’s dead—trust me, I remember all on my own. That, of course, is what the bourbon is for. So I can fucking forget, just for a little while.
There’s a college football game on TV, between Clemson and LSU, and I start laughing at a bunch of tigers fighting one another. Clay steps back in front of me, a towel in his hand.
“What’s so funny, Ben?”
“Clemson and LSU!” I practically shout. “All those fucking tigers!”
Clay glances up at the TV and then back at me. “That’s not LSU, bud. That’s the University of Washington.”
“Pssh. UW would never play Clemson during the regular season.”
Clay snorts. “Yeah, well, neither would LSU. But there was that whole fan lobby thing last year, remember? Sports Illustrated got involved. So, UW is gonna play some different teams this—”
I wave him off. Who gives a shit about football.