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“Thank you. I feel so much better, knowing he won’t be alone.”
“He won’t be.” Both of us turn to see Tori standing at the doorway. “You saw Alden’s funeral and how many people turned out. Your boys have a lot of people who love them. Me included. He won’t be alone.”
Mr. Stokes has tears running down his face. He wipes at them and nods. “They’re good boys. I think I will head home to get some rest.”
Once he leaves, I fill Tori in on what the detective told me.
“I saw the wanted picture on social media, and that they finally let you offer the reward. I searched his name online, tried to see what I could learn about him, but there’s not much. He looks like a typical lowlife.”
My chuckle is bitter. “I didn’t even think to search his name.”
“You’re exhausted. We should get some dinner and go back to your place.”
With a smile, I regard my best friend. “Tori, you’ve been great, and I love the fuck out of you. But you don’t need to stay with me tonight.” When she opens her mouth to argue, I hold up my hand. “If I need you, I promise I won’t hesitate to call, but I need to be alone. I’m going back to work tomorrow. I need to try to get back to normal life things if I’m going to get through this.”
She hugs me. “Going back to work is a good idea. Can I meet you for lunch?”
“That’d be great.”
* * *
Normal doesn’t feel normal. I don’t know how I’m supposed to live in a world without him. In the times I’m not crying, I feel strange. Zoned out and heavy. Like I’m walking through a tunnel where the world is projected on screens around me, two dimensional and unimportant.
I get things done. Weeks stack up and I fall into a routine. Up early, work until late afternoon, visit Alden’s grave, visit Oliver, then go to the gym to make sure I’m thoroughly exhausted when I go to bed. So tired that I won’t lie awake and let thoughts creep in. It’s easier and far less painful to disassociate, but it also scares me because days start to blur together. Sometimes, when I crawl into bed at night, I can’t recall a single thing I’ve said or a thought in my head that day. Autopilot has been in control.
Even when Mr. Stokes gets admitted to a hospice care center and dies three days later, all I seem to feel is numb. The only bright spot is that Oliver continues to improve. He’s removed from the ventilator and breathing on his own. The doctors grow more confident that he’ll wake and have a chance at recovery. What that will look like, I have no idea, but I’ll be there every step of the way.
CHAPTER14
Grass scratches my legs when I sit down in the same spot where I’ve spent hours a day for the last two months. Ever since the day of the funeral when Alden was laid to rest in a grave beside his mother’s.
Over two months without him. It doesn’t seem possible.
“I’m back again,” I tell him, hooking my arms around my knees. “It’s going to storm so this visit might be short. I love you but not enough to get struck by lightning.”
My fingers play through the fresh grass on his grave, the way they used to play through his hair. “Oliver is getting better. He’s been showing signs of consciousness, responding to touch, even following basic instructions like squeezing my hand. The doctors say he should get more and more aware. He’s fighting to make it. You’d be so proud of him. I wish you were here to see it.”
My last words are broken, and I let myself sob for a few minutes.
Grief isn’t just sadness. It’s every memory you have of them slamming into you over and over. Difficult conversations, happy moments, something they said or did, a shared laugh. It’s the devastating realization that you’re the only one who holds those memories now. It’s longing so badly to hear their voice or see them again that your skin hurts, your soul aches.
Thunder rolls across the sky and the wind begins to pick up. “I’ve got to go. I need to go meet with Smith and make sure your business is surviving.”
It’s my business now. I knew that Alden had put me as beneficiary on his life insurance—we both did that once we were engaged—but I was surprised to find out he’d updated his will. All his accounts and possessions went to me, along with his half of Stokes Brothers. I know nothing about bikes or running a garage. Once Oliver is healed, I’ll sign my stake over to him.
I lay my hand on the cool earth. “I love you, Alden.”
My chest aches on my walk back to my car. It’s always hard to leave him here.
Raindrops begin to pelt the windshield during the drive over to the shop. The sight of the Stokes Brothers Custom Cycles sign puts a reluctant grin on my face when I remember the day Alden brought me here to show me. He was so proud.
Milo is talking with a big burly man who keeps gesturing to the motorcycle parked beside them. The big guy clearly isn’t happy about something. I give Milo a wave and walk on back to the breakroom where Smith sits at a table.
“Ella, how are you doing?” he asks, getting to his feet to hug me.
“Getting through the days. How are things going here?” Smith has stepped up and taken over most of Oliver’s administrative duties, while Milo has been managing the repair side of the shop. They’ve both been a godsend, making sure the shop stays afloat until Oliver is well.
“Good. Real good, actually. Everything’s running smoothly. Profits are up. People want to support Oliver. We’ve had a lot of guys bringing in their bikes for routine maintenance they usually would’ve done themselves.”
