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He stills and lifts his head to show me wide eyes. “What?”
Despite the flutter of nervousness in my chest, I double down and go with my instinct. I know him better than anyone.
“We’re having kids, so make an appointment. Not an ‘army of misfits,’ though. One. Maybe two.”
He blinks. His lips do a funny little dance before shaping words. “Do I get to marry you first?”
I pretend to think about it. “I guess. If you want.”
His hips thrust against mine, making me simultaneously melt and tense in anticipation.
“If I want?” he growls. “Yes, I want. But right now, I want this.”
His fingers delve beneath my underwear, shifting them to the side. He curses at how wet I am; I moan piteously as he frees himself and uses my arousal as lubricant.
“Answer me first!” I yelp as he lines himself up.
“Kids, yes. Marry you, yes. All of it, yes.”
He sinks inside me in a slow, smooth thrust. There’s a single moment when we stare at each other, every emotion shared and reflected back, before all hell breaks loose.
Sex in a forest isn’t pretty. It’s definitely not graceful. A few times, it’s actually painful. I end up with bark scratches on my back. Lucas cuts his foot on a rock.
All in all, we still give it an 8/10.
44
On my way to help Celeste set up for Damien’s birthday party, I make a stop I’ve been avoiding since I came back to Sun River. The decision is pure impulse—I flip an illegal U-turn and get honked at—which is how I know the timing is right.
Nestled in the hills outside town, from the outside Sun River Cemetery looks more like a nature park than anything else. I pull into the visitor’s lot and get out, heading down the main path. From conversations with my mom five years ago, I know where I’m headed.
Giant cedar and spruce shade the path. Sunlight dapples the surfaces of headstones, some flush with the grass, some upright. Many are decorated with flowers, flags, and other memorabilia. To my left and down a slight hill, a funeral is underway. The mournful sound of a violin carries to my ears on a soft breeze.
I take a breath, expanding past the tightness that wants to choke me, and turn right at the next fork. The air feels progressively more hushed and heavy as I make my way toward a black marble headstone that bears my father’s name with the inscription, Beloved Son, Husband, and Father.
Sourness fills my throat.
There are no flowers at his grave, though the grass is well-tended and the area clean. The boy inside me wants to howl and kick the headstone over. Good thing the man inside me knows I’d probably break my foot.
I don’t speak, having said everything I needed to him when I left Sun River the first time. Nothing has changed since then except one thing: I don’t hate him anymore.
The realization makes my next breath deeper, fuller, as a weight I’ve carried around my whole life cracks free from its foundation and melts away.
He doesn’t mean anything to me now. He can’t hurt me. Hurt Michelle. Hurt my mother. Hurt anyone.
And I’m nothing like him.
“Fuck you, Dad,” I tell him, “and rest in peace.”
“Amen,” says a woman behind me.
I jolt and spin around to find Angela Torres standing a few feet away, a bouquet of flowers in her hands. She smiles softly and tilts her head toward the path behind her.
“Care to join me?”
My voice nowhere to be found, I nod. As we walk farther into the cemetery, the trees get bigger and older. When the familiar grave comes into view, surrounded by other, older markers bearing the Torres name, Angela stops and faces me.
Her dark eyes smile up at me. “You’re coming this afternoon, right?”
