Page 61 of Roses & Ruin

“Now, it’s the night I caught you from the steeple.” His voice is open. Naked in a way I’ve only heard a few times. “But before that, it was the day of your funeral, my most recent loss of you.”

This next question, I know the answer to, but I ask it anyway.

“Have you ever had your heart broken?” Hayden turns his body in to me, his breath fracturing. He tilts my head back so he’s looking down at me, his eyes blazing and hot.

“Rose,” he says, “my heart is always broken. The only times it is ever whole is when I’m touching you. Kissing you.” Hayden drops his mouth to the corner of my mouth. He moves his face to kiss my cheek, and I turn my face so our mouths meet. He makes a soft noise in my mouth, and I part my lips, swallow it, chase it with my tongue.

We kiss frantically for several impossibly fiery moments. When the waiter clears his throat, we break apart, swiftly pay our bill, and leave.

“Only one last stop,” Hayden says, looking up at the gathering snow. “We’ll need to leave before the storm gets bad.” I follow him into a tiny florist’s shop.

“It’s okay,” I say. “You’ve shown me more than I could have ever imagined. If we need to head back to Payen now, we can.”

“No,” he says gruffly, paying for a sumptuous bouquet of creamy, snow-white roses. “This is for me too. I need to pay my respects.” When we step back out into the snowy afternoon, his voice drops. “Come with me to see your grave. Your first grave. Please?”

“Of course,” I say, blinking up at him, a little stunned. Hayden’s smile is sad. He opens his mouth to say something, slams it shut, and turns, heading down a small stone street.

As I begin to follow him, movement flickers out the corner of my eye. I look over my shoulder. But the snowy alleyway is empty. I frown, resuming my steps.

There’s another passing shadow at my periphery, and this time when I turn, I see someone. I gasp, shocked into stillness.

A handsome man is standing in the middle of the alley, wearing the same jeans and button-down I saw him in earlier today.

Julian? I shake my head, blinking, and when I look again, there’s no one there.

I glance over at Hayden, but he’s already too far ahead. No way he saw. I look back, but there aren’t any footprints in the snow, nothing to indicate that what I saw was real.

This isn’t a new feeling, my imagination getting the better of me. And it’s been a really messed-up few days with little sleep. It was obviously nothing.

I try and smooth the unsettled feeling in my stomach and turn from the empty alleyway, following Hayden to see my grave.

Chapter 22

With each snowy step that takes us closer to Hemlock Cove Cemetery, Hayden’s silence grows heavier. I dig inside myself, try and see how I feel about visiting my own grave, knowing that my body is not much more than bones beneath the dirt. I’m surprised to find the stirring within me growing peaceful, settled.

Among the confusing tangle of sadness, jealousy, and so, so much heartache, I’m feeling that sense of coming home. Completeness. I glance up at Hayden’s back, the upturned leather collar, the rigid set of his shoulders.

I’m becoming well-versed in the language of his body. There’s no question that what he’s feeling now is grief. A tiny flash of pique has me rushing to his side, nearly slipping on the snowy stone, grabbing the hand that isn’t holding the bouquet of white roses.

“I’m right here,” I say. “It’s so weird that you’re mourning me when I’m right here.”

Hayden’s eyes find mine, his expression unreadable. The furrow in his brow flickers, and his lips part like he’s going to say something. But then he turns away. He doesn’t say it, but I can feel it.

For now. You’re here for now.

I grip his hand as hard as I can, and he doesn’t pull away.

Hemlock Cove Cemetery is at the top of a great rise, overlooking the town and harbor. The little brick buildings look like toys lit from within by tiny candles. Up here, you can see the lighthouse, the ocean that stretches miles away.

“It’s so beautiful here,” I say, opening the creaky iron gate. It’s a small plot of land, the ancient tombstones dusted with a flawless coat of snow.

“Your father and I thought you’d like it.” Hayden leads me to the very back of the graveyard, stopping before a crumbling tombstone. Swooping gracefully to his knees, he brushes snow from the face of the stone. “You won’t see it today,” he says. “But I chose this spot because it’s the best place to watch the sun set.” Each careful sweep of his fingers against my grave breaks my heart.

“Do you have a grave?” I ask, kneeling beside him. The skin near his eyes tightens. He pauses, looking down at the roses in his hand, smoothing a thumb across a creamy petal.

“I never got a grave.” He shoots me a glance with the barest hint of irony. “Kinda funny, actually, as you have more than several. In fact, I chose the house where I currently live because it’s near one of your graves.”

“Holyfield Cemetery,” I breathe, blinking.