Chapter 56
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“We’ll be visiting our parents first,” he said, his voice carrying that same gentle authority I remembered from when he’d coax me down from trees was too scared to climb down from alone. “I told them I was bringing you to see them tonight.”
He grinned, and suddenly he looked like a mischievous teenager again. “I may have mentioned to your mom that I knew she’d missed you terribly, so I was being the good son and bringing you home to her.”
I hit his chest playfully, the solid warmth of him beneath my palm sending an unwelcome flutter through my stomach. “You’re terrible. She probably thinks you’re showing off.”
“Maybe I am,” he said, but his smile was soft now, touched with something that looked like fondness.
We walked deeper into the cemetery, our footsteps muffled by dew–dam
grass. The headstones rose around us like sleeping sentinels, some worn smooth by decades of weather, others still sharp–edged and new. Everything smelled of earth and night–blooming jasmine, of memory and permanence.
When we reached the familiar plot, my breath caught in my throat. Four headstones stood in a neat row, side by side like they were still protecting each other even in death. Mom, Dad, Tristan’s mother Laura, and his father Adam. Together, just as they’d chosen to be in life.
I sank down in the grass between my parents‘ graves, the cool earth soaking through my jeans as I
pressed my palms flat against the ground above them.
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad,” I whispered, my voice barely audible in the stillness. “I’m sorry it took me so long
to come see you. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when Orion needed me most, when everything
fell apart and you
weren’t here to hold us together anymore.”
The words poured out of me like water through a broken dam, five years of guilt and regret and desperate longing finally finding their voice.
I told them about London, about the mistakes I’d made, about the woman I’d become and the woman I was trying to find my way back to being.
When I was finished with my parents, I shifted over to kneel beside Tristan’s mother’s grave. Laura Hayes had been like a second mother to me, the woman who bandaged my scraped knees when Mom was busy, who taught me how to braid my hair and how to throw a proper punch when the boys at school got too pushy.
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Chapter 56
“Aunt Laura,” I said, my voice thick with tears, “I’m sorry I failed you. You told me I was the glue that would keep Tristan and Orion strong, that even though they were already strong, I would make them even stronger together. I ran away instead. I let you down.”
I moved to Adam’s grave next, remembering his booming laugh and the way he used to swing me around until I was dizzy and breathless with giggles.
“Uncle Adam, I’m sorry for being so childish, for running when things got hard instead of staying to
fight. I promise I’ll never fail you again. I promise I’ll try to be the person you all believed I could become.”
The tears came freely now, and I didn’t try to stop them. This was what I’d needed, this conversation with the people who’d shaped me, this admission of guilt and plea for forgiveness. This was how healing
began.
Tristan stood quietly a few feet away, giving me space but staying close enough that I could feel his presence like a warm anchor in the darkness.
When I was finally empty of words, I stood and moved to the center of the four graves, placing myself
at the heart of my family.
“Dad, Mom, Aunt Laura, Uncle Adam,” I said, my voice stronger now, steadier. “I promise to get myself back. I promise you that I won’t let any man break me again, won’t waste tears on someone who doesn’t
deserve them.
Tristan and Orion have been more than you could have imagined, they’ve been everything you raised them to be. I know you’re proud of them wherever you are. And I’m going to make you proud of me too.”
Tristan moved closer then, his arms coming around me from behind, solid and warm and infinitely
comforting.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured against my hair, “they are proud of you. We all are.”
I turned in his embrace and held him tight, letting the last of my self–pity tears fall against his chest.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
