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We head back to my truck and get in, then drive back toward home, and to the cemetery.
I reach the cemetery gates and park on the street.
I can feel Thea shudder beside me and her hands flex in her lap. Eventually, she takes a breath and gets out of the car. I reach into the back and grab the flowers and train before joining her.
She stares at the wrought-iron gates with fear in her eyes. She steels her shoulders, though, and lifts her chin defiantly, refusing to be bowed.
Thea takes a deep, shaky breath and her hand finds mine. I squeeze hers in reassurance.
“When you’re ready,” I tell her.
She nods and gives me a small smile in thanks for not pushing her.
This is a big deal for her, and she has to go at her own pace.
A few minutes pass, and then she finally takes the first step forward, letting go of my hand.
She’s slow at first, but then picks up speed, until she wraps her hands around the gate and pushes it open. I follow behind, so that I don’t crowd her. If she needs a moment alone I want her to have it.
She stops and turns around, looking at me with panic in her eyes. “I can’t remember where it is. Xander,” her voice cracks on my name, “it’s been so long that I don’t know where my own brother is buried. How wrong is that?”
“It’s okay,” I assure her. “We’ll find it.” I scan the area and point. “I think it might be that way. I remember it being near a big tree.”
“Right, right,” she chants. “That sounds right.”
She heads off the way I pointed. I scan every marker we pass, and up ahead, Thea gasps, dropping to her knees.
“This is it,” she breathes.
I hand her the flowers and toys and start to back away, but her hand quickly darts up and grabs onto my jeans. “Stay,” she pleads, looking up at me with wide eyes. “I don’t want to be alone.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
She nods. “Please.” Her voice is no more than a whisper, the pain evident in the way she can barely speak.
“Okay.” I clear my throat and sink down onto my knees beside her.
She takes my hand, wrapping her fingers firmly around mine.
I look at her, but she keeps her gaze pinned on the gravestone. It’s just a simple stone marker, spelling out Gabe’s name, birthday, and the day he died.
“Hi, Gabe,” Thea says softly. “I’m sorry I haven’t come to visit you in a while. I’m a shitty sister.” She wipes a tear away. “I’ll be honest, I’ve tried hard to forget you. It was easier to pretend you didn’t exist, but that was wrong of me. So wrong. And I’m sor
ry. I hope you can forgive me. I promise I’m done being that selfish now, and I want to celebrate you in any way I can, every day, so that you’re always here with us.” She traces her finger over his name. “You were a cool kid, even if you irritated the crap out of me. I really do love you, so much, more than you’ll ever know, and I’m sorry I never got to show you. I’m sorry your life was cut short.” She begins to sob, and I place my hand on her back, trying to offer her any comfort that I possibly can. “I hope wherever you are up there, that it’s beautiful, and that you’re always smiling.”
She wipes her eyes and places the flowers the way she wants them and then puts the train above his name.
She turns to me, mascara smudged beneath her eyes. “Look at me.” She laughs. “I’m a mess.”
I chuckle and grasp her neck, pulling her toward me so I can kiss her forehead.
“You’re my mess.”
“The divorce papers are here,” I announce with glee.
Xander’s head snaps up from the kitchen table, where he was eating his breakfast, and says, “What?” His eyes are wide with horror and he looks torn between pissed off and hurt. He starts to slide the chair out from the table, no doubt ready to confront me.
I smack him on the head with the padded envelope. “Not for us, you dipshit. For my mom.”
