Page 132 of Be My Brayshaw (Brayshaw High 4)

Thankfully, the nursery had delivery trucks, which we filled to the brim, but not just me.

I can say with complete certainty none of the boys have ever been to a nursery before, not that I had either. They went overboard.

Any and everything Raven, Zoey, or I stopped to look at for more than a second, they snapped their fingers and had someone load up. Eventually, me and Raven shared a look and stopped pausing completely.

Naturally, they noticed and got mad about it.

All we did was laugh, though.

Here we are, four days later, sitting on the back patio looking out at all the added life around the property.

“So, pink, huh?” Raven turns toward me. “I figured you for more of a... I don’t know, not girly.”

I laugh, my eyes moving to my garden.

A large white marble bench with plush black cushions sits in the center, matching stones that lead to the seat trail in front of it, all cased in by bright, florescent pink flowers of every kind.

“He went a little overboard, didn’t he?” I laugh.

But Raven only smiles. “Nah. He did good, Vee.”

I smile, stand, and walk over to the added ‘piece of me,’ as Cap called it.

He had it built just outside my window, said so I could look out at it anytime I wanted and see something that would forever be mine.

That’s the part that got me.

This is my home, my future.

My purpose.

All the bad shit along the way had to be to lead me here today. To them.

To him.

Any other time, be it sooner or later, and things wouldn’t have happened as they did, Zoey might not be here.

Everything went as it was supposed to.

“Hey.”

I smile, glancing at Captain over my shoulder.

He hides something behind his back.

“Hey.” I grin, spinning to him. “Whatcha got?”

“It’s not for you.” He tips his head, smiling at me as he brings a dozen white roses around for me to see. He leans in, kissing me softly, but as soon as the kiss deepens, he tugs away.

“Come with me,” he whispers.

“I mean, I’m trying, but...” I tease.

He laughs loudly, throwing his head back and grabs my hand, leading me to the truck. “Later, baby. Promise.”

I grin, following him. “I thought we were going swimming?”

“We are when we get home. Just a quick stop.” He opens the doors of his SUV.

Zoey already sits inside, buckled and ready to go, a small purple bouquet in her grasp. “Rora, look what I have.”

“Those are so pretty, ZoZo.”

She smiles, smelling the center of them and looks out the window.

Captain slides inside, and we’re on the road in seconds.

Not long into the drive, I realize where we’re going, and then we’re pulling into the Brayshaw cemetery.

Once we’re parked, the three of us climb out, and Zoey runs right for where she knows Connor Perkins was buried.

Captain and I catch up, and she waits for him to remove the other set that couldn’t be more than a week old, and quickly places the new ones inside the built-in vase.

“Hi,” Zoey says. “I bringed some from home today. I hope you like them.”

I glance at Captain, who wears the softest smile as he stares at his little girl.

Sensing my stare, he turns to me.

“Aren’t you going to put those in, too?” I ask him.

He shakes his head, his knuckles coming up to slide along my cheek. “No, these are for someone else.”

I watch him curiously as he walks off, but he only makes it a few feet before glancing back in indication for me to follow.

I grab Zoey’s hand, walking alongside her as we trail Captain about fifty yards over, to a large wall made up of stone and gray swirled marble.

He stops, turns to me, and lifts Zoey into his arms. He licks his lips, seemingly nervous and hands over the bouquet.

“Thought you might like to place these ones.”

He leans forward, kissing my cheek, and Zoey follows, rubbing her nose along mine.

The two step back, and I watch as they head for the SUV.

Slowly, my eyes move to the wall in front of me. Right there, in an open square sits a beautiful brass vase, and beneath, a small golden plaque.

In loving memory of Maria Vega.

Tears fill my eyes before I can stop them, and my hand comes up to cover my mouth.

He did this. For me, for him.

For us.

With shaky hands I lift the soft white roses and set them inside the holder, stepping back to look over the small cube dedicated solely for her, a place to remember the mother I didn’t know much about, the woman who loved and cared for the little girl we love and will forever care for.

She was kind, gentle, and never pushed when I continuously pulled away.

I’d go visit Zoey, and she’d leave us alone, though sometimes I’d catch her recording me, but I never asked her why.