Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 997(@200wpm)___ 797(@250wpm)___ 664(@300wpm)
Fresh flowers rest on his grave next to a football and his jersey from middle school with his name and number on the back—a jersey he earned during tryouts but never got the chance to use. Pride swirls through my chest. This is exactly how he would have wanted it.
“Who brought all this stuff?” I ask Zoey as she gazes down at Linc’s grave, a fondness shining in her tear-filled eyes.
“Everybody,” she tells me. “Your mom brings fresh flowers every week, and I’ve seen your dad here a few times. I’m not sure how often he comes by, but I’m pretty sure he was the one who left the football and jersey.”
“And the pictures?”
“Me and Hazel,” she tells me. “She wanted to leave the one of the four of us and wrote about us being the four musketeers, but I never really understood that. And I left your family photo because—”
She trails off, and I inch closer, tugging on her hand and pulling her into my side. “Because?” I prompt.
Her hand comes up, and she discreetly wipes her eyes. “Because I knew you weren’t visiting him, and I wanted Linc to remember how much you loved him, and if for some reason he wasn’t able to look over you, then he’d be able to remember your face here.”
My heart shatters, and I drop my lips to her temple, pressing a lingering kiss, not willing to pull away so soon. “God, Zo. I don’t deserve you.”
She lets out a breath and presses her hand to my chest, her chin tilting up to meet my stare. “Did you want to talk to him?”
“I . . .” I pause, caught off guard. “I don’t know what I would even say.”
“Just tell him about your life. How you’ve been doing, how much you miss him and wish he were here. Tell him about the guilt you’ve felt and the struggles you’ve had trying to navigate the darkness. Tell him you’re sorry that you haven’t been the man you wanted to be over the past three years. He’ll want to know that you’re trying to do better, and when in doubt, tell him about your shenanigans with Hazel or how football has been going.”
The pressure drops down on my shoulders, and the nerves become almost unbearable when Zoey steps out of my arms and walks right up to the edge of his grave. She bends down and grabs the plastic folder filled with Hazel’s letters before clutching it to her chest. “I’ll be over at the car,” she tells me. “Unless you want me to stay.”
I give it thought, warring back and forth with my options before giving a slight shake of my head. “I’ll be alright,” I tell her, needing to find the strength to face this, to be the brother Linc always thought I was.
Zoey gives me a small smile before slipping away, and before I know it, I’m down on the grass in front of his grave, my gaze locked on the inscription written on the granite tombstone. I sit for a few minutes, having no idea where to start, but the second I do, the words seem to flow.
“Shit, Linc. You’d be so fucking ashamed of me,” I tell him. “I think the day you died, I died right along with you. Only I was stuck here, living like a fucking ghost, barely going through the motions. I fucked up everything. Hurt everybody just to try and escape the guilt, but nothing ever helped. I miss you, bro. I fucking miss you so bad, it hurts. Every. Fucking. Day. I should never have told you to go home that day. If I knew . . . I never would—” I stop abruptly, unable to say the words out loud, not to him at least. “I should have been a better brother, Linc. All you ever did was want to spend time with me, and I was so fucking selfish. I should have given you the time you needed or threw the fucking ball with you more. I always told you that I’d teach you how to ride a dirt bike, and we never got to do that. There are so many things I never got to teach you, and I hate myself for letting you down like that.”
I let out a breath, needing a second before I continue. “It’s been three years already, and I’m so ashamed of myself for not visiting you until now. I wasn’t strong enough, but Zoey is bringing me back to life. She’s breathing oxygen into my veins and keeping me going, and while I finally feel as though I can see a way out of the darkness, it also makes me feel guilty. How fucking dare I be happy and have love when you—fuck. You’ll never get to have those things, and I know you would have had them all. You and Hazel would have been just like me and Zoey, and maybe if you were still here, you would have already realized that she was it for you. Or maybe it would have taken you another few years. She’s only eleven, a few months older than you were when you—” I pause again.