Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
“Whoa. Hold up, trouble. Remember what happened last time you climbed a tree?”
I laughed. “This one isn’t high. And you’re here.”
“What are you looking for?” he repeated, not stopping me. I climbed up, the branches so close together it was easy. I turned and looked, tears springing to my eyes. “That,” I whispered.
From the vantage point I had, I saw the heart. Lou had planted flowers in the shape of the heart, and they still grew. Wild flowers in all sorts of colors I imagined would burst open in the summer. I could see her sitting in the sun on the fallen tree, talking to Gerard after scattering his ashes there.
This was their spot.
I climbed down, and Jesse helped me the last few feet. He wiped under my eyes. “Okay, Pix?”
“Yes.”
“You found the spot?”
I pointed behind him. “There’s a garden of wild flowers just coming to life. I think that’s where his ashes are.”
He pulled me close and kissed my brow. “Then let’s reunite them.”
Jesse went and got a shovel, loosening the dirt a little. Carefully, I opened the urn and took out the small bag, shaking it into the dirt, whispering loving thoughts to the woman who had been more of a mother to me for that brief time than mine had my whole life.
Jesse stayed close, and I could feel his emotions. They were there in the set of his shoulders, the furrow of his brow, and the way his fists clenched. When I was done, he held out his hand, taking mine, and nestled me to his side. We stood quietly, the sun suddenly brighter, feeling a gentle breeze. In my mind, it stirred them back together, forever reuniting them.
A bird flew overhead, landing on a branch. I looked up at the dove who stared down at us, then took off, joining its mate who waited not far away. It felt like the sign I needed to end this journey.
“It’s done,” I whispered.
Jesse kissed me. “It’s done. Let’s go home, Pix.”
I sighed. “Let’s go home.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
JESSE
Irolled over with a frustrated groan. I couldn’t sleep. The room was dark and quiet—I had taken advantage of the empty private room and chosen to sleep here for a change, thinking it would help. I had barely slept last night without Casey tucked against me.
And despite my being exhausted, tonight didn’t look much better.
I tucked an arm under my head, thinking of the past few days. Casey had been surprisingly emotional, crying a few times, staring at the pictures she’d found of Lou. Rereading the journal. I knew she was mourning the loss of the woman she’d loved and lost so long ago, finally able to do so as an adult. The bittersweet part of it was reconnecting but never being able to be together.
I’d tried to figure out ways to help. I let her plant the flowers in the urns and didn’t grumble too much about having blooms on my side of the porch. I’d purposely laughed at the welcome mat she’d put outside the front door, not reminding her I used the back door, as did most of my visitors. It took everything in me not to tear down the wreath she hung on my door. I did suggest she was taking advantage of my good side by doing so, and she had scoffed—loudly.
“You don’t really have a good side, Thorne.”
She was right most of the time.
And I had to admit, the wreath made of knotted rope was masculine and looked decent on the door.
I had, however, expressed my displeasure in gentle terms.
“Dammit, Pix. I said no wreath on my door!”
“But it’s manly.”
“There is nothing manly about a wreath,” I insisted, crossing my arms, preparing to go to battle on this one.
“I had it made special,” she murmured. “No greenery, flowers, or bows. It’s kinda nautical, really.”
“Does this look like a boat?” I demanded.
“I couldn’t figure out a firefighter wreath. A wrapped hose wouldn’t look good,” she explained patiently as if I were a six-year-old.
At the hurt look on her face, I felt my annoyance slip away.
“Fine,” I huffed. “I’ll get used to it.”
Her face brightened. “I can jazz it up for holidays!”
She spun on her heel and disappeared into the house.
I dropped my head, already worried about what “jazz it up” meant.
I had a feeling I wouldn’t like it.
But for that moment, she smiled, and I decided that I would argue about it then.
For the first time that I could recall, I hated leaving to go for my shift. Miller was with her, and I knew she was busy with work. Still, I loathed going.
It felt weird to worry about someone, but I worried about Casey constantly, it seemed. If she was working too hard. I wondered if she was eating. Was she warm enough at night? Was she sleeping in my bed or her own? I had never asked her that question.