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Although she kept her eyes on Ricky’s grave, she could feel Jess’ silent gaze burning into her.

She shifted beneath the weight of it.

“I bought a memorial space,” she continued, casting a pointed glance at the wall she now couldn’t stand to go to. “And I came back after they installed the plaque.”

Jess stayed quiet, her gaze expectant, like she was waiting for Sam to fill the silence. When the words didn’t come, Jess tilted her head slightly, her voice soft as she finally asked, “She didn’t have one before?”

Sam shook her head. “She didn’t leave behind any money.” She paused, shifting in the grass as she loosed a deep breath. “And we didn’t have any family to cover the costs. Chris was deployed, and even if he was here, I don’t think he would’ve paid for it, anyway.”

A chilled wind blew past, sending crisp russet leaves tumbling across the grass.

Sam pulled the sleeves of her hoodie down to cover her bare forearms as she continued. “When she died, the city cremated her. They sent the ashes overseas to Chris.” She tilted her head back slightly to feel the brisk air against her cheeks. “I think he just spread them wherever he was at the time.”

Jess placed a tender hand on her thigh. Sam looked down, watching it for a moment before taking her hand and lacing their fingers together.

“Did it bother you?” Jess asked, peering up at her. “I mean—not having somewhere to visit when you wanted to feel close to her again.”

Sam thought for a moment before turning to look at her. “Honestly? No. I didn’t understand that she wasn’t getting something that most other people did. I just thought it was normal.”

Jess nodded slowly, her eyes deeply focused on Sam’s, as if searching to see if there were any words she was leaving unsaid.

And she must have found whatever she was searching for, because her eyes changed with that knowing look she always got whenever she saw something within her that she couldn’t see herself.

“Did you visit the memorial today?”

Sam’s eyes flicked past Jess to the wall in the distance behind her.“No.”

Jess watched, her expression unchanged. And Sam knew then that she’d already known the answer.

“I thought,” Sam started, “that it would make me feel different somehow. Like closure or something.” She shook her head, brows tightening in frustration. “But—it didn’t.”

Jess nodded, her eyes flicking down to where their fingers intertwined. “I don’t know if anything ever really brings that closure,” she said softly.

Sam watched her, taking in every tiny detail in the way her eyes and brow tightened just the slightest bit. It reminded her of the first night they’d ever spoken about it. The first night Jess had really felt like more than just some girl she volunteered with.

“Did you visit your mom’s grave a lot when you were younger?”

Jess nodded slowly, her eyes still entirely focused on their hands. “I made my dad take me constantly, for a while.” She released a deep sigh. “But I could always tell something about it made him uncomfortable. Like he had to force himself to go every time I asked.”

She bit the edge of her lip, her eyes taking on that distant look Sam had seen many times before when they’d first met.

“Eventually,” Jess continued, “he started just waiting in the car while I would go in and visit. Back then, I thought he just didn’t care. I remember feeling so angry with him for it. But now—” She paused, an almost guilty look flashing over her face. “Now I know it wasn’t because hedidn’tcare. It was because he cared too much.”

Sam watched the flash of pain move through her features. Like she single-handedly blamed herself for causing him that pain.

She squeezed her hand gently, and Jess looked up at her, a pained smile barely gracing her lips.

“You never really told me about what happened back then,” Jess said quietly, her expression both careful and comforting all at once.

Sam swallowed, looking away toward the far off tree line surrounding the gates of the cemetery. “I don’t really think about it much.”

It wasn’t a lie. She barely left time in her day to think about anything more than the very necessities of work. And after she’d moved away, it made it even easier. There was rarely a reminder of those days.

Jess nodded slowly. “I can’t imagine how hard that would’ve been. To watch your parent do that—” She paused, as if catching herself. “Or—go through that.”

Sam shrugged, her mouth pressing into a tight line. “Every time she would relapse, it was almost better. I was less anxious then.”

Sam shifted, releasing a breath as certain memories floated through her vision, blocking everything else out.