Page 51 of The Intimacy of Finding You

“Fuck. I thought the funeral would help. Seeing him be buried, you know? That way, I wouldn’t be able to deny it anymore, and I’d know he was resting safely underground. But no. The most random shit reminds me of him, and I’m on the floor, holding him all over again.”

Tobi leaned back, resting his palms on my knees. “Was someone able to go with you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Crew, Price, and Jack all came with me. They were the ones who knew Pops the most.”

“I’m really glad. I wish I could’ve been there with you.”

I shook my head, sniffling. “No, you were getting help. That’s enough for me.”

“I thought about you while I was there. At least, I did when my brain stopped feeling like complete mush. I thought about Grandpa Stanton, too. I bet he was pissed when I left, huh? I can see him in my head cussin’ up a storm about me.”

At first, I smiled because, yeah, he did. Then I reached out and held Tobi’s face in my hands, looking into his eyes. I saw Papa in them—just little pieces. His kindness. His will. His determination. His fucking stubbornness. They were both the most stubborn people I’d ever known. “He told me you’d come back to me.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. I told him you seemed lost. He told me I didn’t need to help you find your way; I just needed to be there when you finally did. He had no doubts you would. The only thing I’m pissed about is the fact that he also told me he’d be here with me when you did. And he isn’t.”

Tobi turned his head and nodded toward the rocking chair. “Yes, he is, Cal. He’s right there, sitting with the love and care you put into makin’ it. I bet he’s watching over us right this second.”

“He’s probably telling me he told me so, huh?”

“Oh, I know he is.” Tobi wrapped his fingers around my wrists. “I don’t really know what kind of thing I believe in when it comes to the afterlife. I’m not really set on one thing or the other. But I do think that, when someone dies, they don’t fully leave. I think he’s everywhere. In the sun. In the snow. In the warm feeling you get in your chest when you think of your good memories with him. He ain’t fully gone, Cal. He’s still here, cheering us on from the sidelines. Or the sky. Or wherever he may be.”

It was a comforting thought. Especially since I was never raised religious—I wouldn’t even know where to start with believing in heaven or hell. But Tobi had a point. “Maybe he’s in my memories, too. In the lullabies, I remember him singing to me. In the coffee table I made, with our names under the glass. In the way I miss him.” I pulled my hands away, leaning back in the rocking chair. “I think that’ll be a good reminder.”

“I think so too. He’s stubborn enough, right? He wouldn’t just completely leave you alone.”

I caught myself leaning forward, wanting to do nothing more than kiss Tobi square on the forehead. Was I allowed to do that? I was the one who said we needed to start over. The idea of going back to the beginning seemed so silly and pointless, though. How could we erase everything we had when our hearts already knew each other so well?

We needed to talk at some point. I needed to know if I could kiss his forehead. Know if I could love him freely after hiding it away in the deep recesses of my mind just to keep myself functioning.

I had to know where we stood, and I think he needed that, too. But for now, I got up from my chair and waited for him to follow. There was someone else who’d been waiting to see him, and now that Tobi had helped stave away my impending silent disco breakdown, I thought it was only fair that Crew get to see him for more than a couple of minutes, too.

And Fishy. Couldn’t forget about Fishy.

chapter twenty-six

I shed my coat alongside Callum, opening the closet to hang them up together. Surprisingly, there was no Fishy tornado coming at us this time.

Callum laughed from behind me. “Hey, C. Is Fishy hogging your lap?”

“He sure is. He’s comfy as all get out, too.”

I followed Callum further into the living room, taking a seat on the lone chair instead of the couch. Crew was on one end, Callum sat on the other, and Fishy might eventually take the spot in between them. Who was I to deny the most precious boy his very own space?

He was perfectly content on Crew’s lap, his eyebrows shifting with every movement of his big, dark eyes. I loved the way his floppy ears moved so freely with every small shift of his head.

Once I got comfortable, I finally looked Crew in the eyes. He was already smiling, bringing his hand over Fishbowl’s back to pet him. “So, you’re not dead.”

Well, that hurt. A lot, actually. Something had started to squeeze my heart—something with sharp, pointed claws, perfect for maiming. The bad thing about being sober for more than seven hours was how clear everything was and how easy it was to look back on the past decade and realize just how much I’d fucked up and just how devastated everyone must’ve been.

I’d spent so long thinking they’d hate me that I’d forgotten how much they loved me. They’d been grieving me for years, and I was none the wiser, thinking they’d simply move on because I was replaceable. That I was forgettable.

How stupid of me.

After quickly reeling myself back in, I took a deep breath. “No. No, I’m not dead.”

He’d noticed the long pause, now looking at me with something much softer in his eyes. Was it worry, or was it sadness? I wasn’t sure anymore. “I missed you.”