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“Nothing new, but the first time Lowell showed me, I didn’t notice the username for the crypto account.” He looks over at me. “Spare Parts.”
Tears spill over and I press my lips together to hold back a cry. “You used to joke that you kept him around for spare parts. In high school. They called him spare for four years.” Tori thought it meant something when the savings account was named spare funds. She was right.
“I know. I remember that.”
His eyes are glassy as he picks up the hammer and waves his hand for me to move back. Once I’m far enough away to avoid any flying debris, he swings the hammer. I watch the arc of it through the air and feel a semblance of satisfaction when it lands on Alden’s first name, obliterating it.
He raises it again and strikes his last name, splitting the stone in half. Grunts of effort precede some of his swings, and I know he’s putting everything he has into them. The marble chips, splinters, and crumbles. It goes on and on, until there’s not much left but chunks and dust. Nothing legible.
It’s not his grave. Not anymore.
His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as I approach him. The hammer is tossed aside, and he stares at what’s left of the headstone. I run my hand down the back of his arm and he cups my face for a second, brushing his thumb over my jaw. “Give me a few minutes, okay?”
“Take as long as you need.”
The flowers are plucked from my hand, and as I walk away, I see him lay them by his mother’s headstone. He sits between the graves, his back to me.
After about fifteen minutes, he reaches over, takes a flower from his mother’s bouquet, and lays it on Oliver’s grave. I’m not sure what he says or if he talks at all. What do you say to a mom you barely remember and a brother who wanted you dead?
The hammer rests on his shoulder when he walks back to where I wait, leaning against the side of my car. He places it back in the trunk, then wraps his arms around me. I hug him tight, and he buries his face in my neck. We stand there like that for a long moment. Holding on and letting go.
In the car on our drive back home, he turns to me. “Do you know where I had the sign made for Stokes Brothers?”
“No, but Milo would know, why?”
“I need a new one.”
“You’re going to change the name of your shop?”
“I am. I know it’s not as simple as changing the sign but it’s a start.”
“Do you have a new name in mind?”
“I’m keeping Stokes. I’ll change it to Stokes Custom Cycles and Repair.” His smile is half-hearted. “I always regretted not adding ‘and repair’ before but it seemed too long.”
“I think it’s perfect.”
Alden is quiet when we get home and he seems a little disconnected the next morning, but as the days pass, his mood gets better.
We’re both excited for the baby and working on the nursery is a great distraction. We’ve spent all weekend painting and now that it’s dry, Alden works on building the crib while I clean out the closet. I didn’t want to have a baby shower, but Tori and I have made many trips to shop for baby clothes and items.
Alden curses, tightening a bolt. “Whoever wrote these instructions needs to be mauled by angry lions. I need a bigger hex key,” he says, and heads down to the garage.
I’ve put off cleaning out this closet. It holds the stuff from my tragic almost wedding. Alden has brought up the new wedding a couple of times, trying to set a date, but I’ve brushed it off by saying that I need some time to plan with Mom first.
It’s not the truth.
I’m not getting cold feet or changing my mind. There’s nothing I want more than to be Alden’s wife but thinking about a wedding only brings me back to that horrific day.
My chest aches, and I pull in a deep breath when I spot my dress hanging at the end of the closet. Mom put it away in here, along with all the other stuff. With a hard swallow, I pick it up off the hook and step back into the room. It’s covered in a plastic slip, and my hands tremble as I remove the covering.
When I chose this dress, I was so in love with it. It was beautiful and perfect. Now looking at it makes me feel sick and dizzy.
A scent washes over me when I hold it up in front of me, and it’s more than I can bear. I throw the dress across the room and quickly sit on the floor before my weak legs can drop me there.
Fear grips me from nowhere and I squeeze my eyes shut.
It stinks in here. Like the hospital.
