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The world passed by me in a blur of color through the visor over my face. It was beautiful the way all the greens, reds, and browns mixed together with the blue of the sky. A painter would be willing to die to capture this kind of beauty on a canvas, and I was seeing it in real-time.
The bike began to slow, and then Beau eased through the cemetery gates. My gut cramped, everything I thought I’d been leaving behind slamming into me with enough force to expel the breath from my lungs.
I wasn’t ready for this.
Trying to keep from vomiting inside of my helmet, I pointed to show Beau which way to go to get to their plots. Just because I hadn’t attended their funeral didn’t mean I didn’t know where they were resting. I’d stared at that map so many times, it was burned into my brain.
Once we eased to a stop, I slid the helmet off my head. A tear ran down my cheek as I stared at their headstones. They were a dull gray color and already in need of cleaning. The flowers that had been put there by those who actually attended the funeral were long since dead, and no new flowers had been put out for them. Their plot was overgrown with weeds.
I was such a terrible daughter.
I slid off the bike and walked over to the plot on feet that no longer felt like mine. With trembling fingers, I crouched and traced their names, a sob bubbling up in my throat.
“I’m so sorry,” I croaked. “I’m so sorry I’ve neglected you.”
My knees weakened, and I fell back on my ass, silent tears streaking down my cheeks. I curled my hands into fists, my nails biting into my palms. My chest ached with their loss.
“Here,” Beau said softly as he took a seat behind me, his thighs cradling me on either side. He held a liquor bottle in front of my face. “How does getting shit-faced and working through this sound?”
“Like a plan,” I croaked. Because I knew he wasn’t letting me leave until I’d worked through the swarm of emotions inside my chest. Might as well get a little drunk while doing it.
He twisted the top off, and once I circled my hand around the neck of the bottle, he released it, allowing me to take a generous swig. It burned going down my throat, but it felt good compared to the iciness I could feel settling into my veins again.
“They were such good people,” I whispered, handing him the bottle so he could take a drink. He surprised me by pouring a little in front of both of their headstones before lifting the bottle to his own lips. “They attended church every Sunday. Helped anyone who needed it without a second’s hesitation. They loved deeply, even people they’d just met. They were the embodiment of everything good and decent in this world. Pure sunshine. And then suddenly, they weren’t.”
I took another pull from the bottle when Beau handed it back to me. “They hadn’t been out in so long,” I told him quietly. “So, Dad planned a big date for them. They were going to eat dinner, stay in a nice hotel, drive to the beach the next morning, stay in a hotel there for the night, and then explore Savannah the next day.” Tears thickened my voice. “They didn’t even get to have the first part of their date before a careless, drunk asshole ripped their lives from them.”
“Did the drunk driver survive?” Beau asked.
I snorted and nodded. “Of course, he did. It’s never the good ones that survive. Don’t you know that?”
Beau stayed quiet. I swiped at my cheeks. “I heard them screaming, Beau. Heard Dad yelling her name. Heard her tell him she loved him one last time. The twisting and bending of metal was so loud. Their screams were even louder.” I could barely see the headstones in front of me through my tears. “The police found them holding hands,” I croaked. “Together until the end. Just like they promised each other in their wedding vows.”
We were silent for a while—long enough for us to finish off the bottle of liquor and start on another. I was feeling drunk—probably was. And God, it felt so nice after the agony of the past day and a half.
“Mom sucked at baking,” I blurted. Beau hummed, his chin resting on my shoulder, one arm wrapped around my waist. “She could rule the kitchen when it came to cooking regular meals or even coming up with her own recipes. But baking?” I snorted. “Dad had to make all of my birthday cakes. Somehow, she burned a cake so badly when I was five that Dad decided throwing the whole stove outside was easier than trying to clean it and get rid of the smell.”
Beau chuckled. “He sounds like he was a character.”
I smiled. “He was. And to me, he was the best dad in the world. An even greater husband, too. He worshipped the ground my mom walked on. She could do no wrong in his eyes.”
“Definitely a good husband then,” Beau agreed. “And considering he raised you, he was a fucking incredible father, too.”
I turned my head, smiling at him. Finally, after an entire year, I felt like I could breathe again. “Thank you for forcing me to come out here.” I rubbed at my chest. “Feels looser. Easier to breathe now.”
He cupped my jaw and pressed his warm, smooth lips to mine, softly kissing me. There was nothing rushed or heated about the joining of our mouths. It was a slow kiss—one full of intimacy.
I was head over heels for this man. There was no doubt about it. He was under my skin, and with every beat of my heart, I could feel his presence pulse through my veins.
“You’re so beautiful when you smile,” Beau suddenly whispered, brushing his nose with mine.
I looked back at my parents’ headstones. “Do you think they’re happy?” I asked him.
Beau nodded. “Yeah, goldie. I do.”
* * *
A truck rumbled to a stop behind Beau’s bike. I craned my neck back to see who the driver was, but I leaned too far back and my back hit the ground. I giggled. Beau snorted at me. He wasn’t nearly as drunk as I was, but he wasdefinitelyover the limit, so no driving for either of us.
