Page 55 of Firefly Embers

“Got you to smile, though,” she said triumphantly as she sat back down beside me.

Her mood switched back to somber as she rested a hand gently on my knee. I ignored the tingle of desire that always niggled at the back of my mind when Ray’s hands were on me.

“But really, Wade, I’m sorry.” She sighed as she looked out into the water. The heaviness in the air was oppressive as the weight of the day settled around us.

The crickets and rustling of fall leaves became the soundtrack of our grief, dulling the ache ever so softly with each minute we listened to their quiet song. We fell back into a comfortable silence, neither ‌of us feeling the need to fill the void with empty platitudes, comfortable to sit together in our grief.

Surprisingly, I was the first to break. After being friends with Ray for so many years, I knew what I wanted to say would be met with receptive ears instead of the judgmental looks I would receive from my family.

“I’m just so… angry,” I said, plucking a blade of grass from the dirt beside me. “I don’t want to be. But I’m fucking livid.”

I could feel the festering rage burning inside of me, the lick of the flames flickering up my throat as I did my best to stanch their ascent. As the week had gone on, it had become more and more difficult to suppress the desire to destroy everything around me.

“Wade… It’s okay to be⁠—”

“It’s not fucking going to be okay, Ray.” Using her name, not the nickname I had been calling her for years, was a true testament to how far into my grief I had retreated.

I felt my resolve slipping as I stood, pacing the edge of the bank, hoping to quell the anger radiating off my body in vibrating waves. Undeterred, Ray sat steadfast on the edge of the water, giving me the space I needed to sort through my swirling emotions.

If anyone could understand my pain and anguish, Ray could. She had lost her own mother when we were teens. I could never fathom the hardship and emotional strain she had gone through until now.

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear right now,” she started.

With a mirthless chuckle, I cut my eyes to hers, imploring her not to continue that sentiment. But Ray knew me better than anyone, and she would never back down from my wrath. I could throw everything in the book at this girl, and she would stand, unshakable, beside me.

“I’m not going to sit here and bullshit you, Wade. Losing your mom fucking sucks. Don’t I fucking know it.” She let out a breathy, humorless chuckle.

“What I am going to tell you is that she wouldn’t want you to be angry. You know that just as well as I do. Penelope Daniels may not have had enough time on this earth, but she treated me as the daughter she never had. I knew that woman longer than I had the pleasure of knowing my own mother.”

She stood and walked over to where I was pacing. I kept my eyes averted from hers, not wanting to give in to the emotion threatening to spill over. I knew the second my eyes met hers, I’d break, and the dam holding back my tears would crumble.

Knowing I was listening, even if I wasn’t looking at her, Ray took one of my hands.

“You boys were that woman’s entire world. She thought you and Max hung the moon and the stars. She was so proud of the man you have become.”

I felt the softness of her touch as she used the pad of her thumb to wipe away the tear I hadn’t realized was trailing down my cheek. I raised my eyes to meet the watery hazel gaze that would be my undoing.

“Grief is the price we pay for love, and love is always worth it,” she whispered as she pulled me close, wrapping her small arms around my waist and laying her cheek on my chest.

I let the tears that had been threatening to spill over my bottom lashes fall. I knew that in this moment, I could break because Ray would be there to catch all my shattered pieces to put me back together.

WADE

Surprisingly, my therapy session with Dr. Langford hadn’t been too bad. Talking about Ray came naturally. She’d been in my life for so long that she had secured a permanent place there, regardless of our currently unresolved relationship status.

Our session had concluded with a series of breathing exercises to help regulate my emotions, should I feel that overwhelming pressure of an anxiety attack brewing. I hadn’t had to use the techniques outside of practice yet, but I knew that being in the treatment facility was a controlled environment, and the true test would be when I went back to real life, and my triggers.

After grabbing a quick lunch in the large cafeteria, which surprisingly had delicious food, I made my way back to my room to change into some work clothes. I didn’t need to be sullying ‌my good jeans while mucking out stalls after group therapy.

I changed into one of my more worn pairs of Wranglers and a basic black T-shirt before throwing on my boots and grabbing my Stetson off the small desk in the corner of the room.

I took a second to marvel at how quickly I’d folded myself into a routine in the two short weeks I’d been there. The easy cadence of getting up, attending therapy, grabbing food, and going to work had kept my thoughts from drifting into uncomfortable territory.

Breathing came easier, the nightmares didn’t wake me from a dead sleep, and for once, I felt like the weight of life wasn’t holding me down.

Following the same routine as that morning, I locked up my room and made my way down the long corridor to the large meeting space reserved for group therapy.

Just like in the movies, everyone sat around in a folding chair circle, sharing the shit that haunts them. There were about ten people already seated, waiting for the session to begin.