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“I’ll stay, but I can’t think when you’re touching me.” Her hands came up to her face to cover her mouth that had fallen open. Her eyes widened with surprise.

“Oh my gosh! I busted your lip. I’m so sorry!” she gasped. I hadn’t even realized it.

I rolled my bottom lip and noticed the copper taste of blood.

“It’ll be alright. The guys are going to give me grief for getting taken by such a lightweight. I shouldn’t have scared you.”

I attempted to lighten the mood. She wrapped her arms around herself and bit her plump lower lip as tears swam in her eyes.

“Have you had lunch?” I asked.

She shook her head, staring intently toward Abel’s grave.

“I was headed to the diner when I saw you. Can I buy you lunch?”

Her almost too big eyes made a study of my face. I didn’t know her well enough to recognize all her expressions, but I could see she was guarded and guilt burned through me again about being such a jackass. After a thorough inspection, she must have decided it was okay.

“Okay. But I’ll meet you there.”

I didn’t blame her. I had given her a shitty impression of me. The worst. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d raised my voice at anyone, much less a woman.

“Okay. Just follow me. Ronnie’s Diner is on Main Street,” I explained.

She turned to walk away, but abruptly stopped.

“Where is my necklace?” She frantically clutched at her neck while scanning the ground, searching.

“These were my grandfather’s.” I held them up as they dangled from my index finger. Tears puddled her eyes again and her head dropped.

“Abel gave them to me,” she whispered, defeated.

As much as I valued sentimental things, there was something in her face that told me she needed them more than I did. I walked toward her and grasped her small hand, placed them in her palm, and closed her fingers over them. A lone tear rolled down her cheek, and I itched to brush it away, but I knew she’d shy away from my touch.

“These mean more to me than anything else I own,” she whispered, clutching them to her chest.

“Let me buy you lunch and we’ll talk, okay?” She nodded, and we both walked to our vehicles.

My mind wandered as I led the way to the diner.

Ronnie’s had been a staple of the community for over fifty years. The red and white awning was dated, but Ronnie made the best greasy cheeseburger around—one that left oil stains on brown paper bags. The milkshakes and homemade onion rings were what drew people in, though. Abel had loved the strawberry milkshake the best. He’d convince Mom and Dad that it was a serving of fruit and, therefore, it was okay to have them as often as possible. Mom would always laugh and tell him to “stop acting like your dad,” and dad would tousle his hair with a chuckle. I was desperate to know how Sawyer knew Abel—especially since I didn’t have any memories of her at all.

The Grand Canyon sized hole his loss had left in our family was evident every single day. Today would have been his twenty-seventh birthday. Abel would have insisted on eating an ice cream cake while drinking an ice cream shake, spouting off about how his birthday was only once a year and it should practically be considered a national holiday. The thing about him though, was that he made the same fuss about other people’s birthdays too. Once, for my birthday, he paid for me to have a hot shave at a fancy barbershop in Kansas City before we went to a Royals game. He was fifteen and the tickets and shave must have cost him most of his lawn mowing money that summer, but he didn’t care. He lived big, but he loved bigger. If you were in his orbit, you felt the warmth of his light. Many people would grumble about having a little brother, but not me. There was a seven-year age difference, but Abel and I had been best friends. He’d hung out with me and my high school friends while we practiced baseball and football. He tagged along with us everywhere. Lane and Jonah had even claimed him, and after we graduated, we still went to as many of his baseball games as possible. Occasionally, only one of us could make it to the game, so we’d update each other on the plays afterward.

I parked at the diner and hopped out, but Sawyer sat in her Jeep, not moving. I tapped on her window and seemed to pull her from a trance. She opened her door but stayed buckled. Damn. I should have never let her drive in this state. What had I been thinking?

“Sawyer, are you okay?” Her eyes became watery again.

“I don’t think I can talk about Abel around other people. I didn’t even know he was gone.” Her voice trailed off at the end.

Grief. I knew it excruciatingly well inside and out, but I knew regret better. She hadn’t even known he had died, and it’d been ten years. Her somber voice held me. I placed a hand on her steering wheel and leaned closer to meet her shining eyes that had been staring at my shoulder.

“I’m going to pick up our food, but I want you to ride with me back to my house and we’ll eat and talk. Okay?” She nodded, knowing the underlying thing I was thinking. It was not safe for her to be driving in this state.

“What’s your favorite kind of ice cream?”

“Strawberry,” she whispered. Of course it was.

“Okay. Let’s get your car locked up. Grab whatever you need. We’ll get you in my truck and then I’ll grab lunch.” I texted Tina—a waitress at the diner who was friends with my mom—our food order while I helped get Sawyer settled in my truck.