Page 23

23

JACK

FINDING REDEMPTION

W alking out of the gym, freshly showered, hair still wet, and my training bag full of sweaty gear that needs to be washed soon, I look up and stare at the sky.

It’s sunny. Fluffy white clouds.

No rain.

Nothing.

Just a perfectly sunny day.

But it’s not actually perfect at all.

This time twelve months ago, she was already gone. This time last year, I was eating the road on the I40 minutes after my beautiful Stephanie was taken from me.

I’ve lived twelve whole months without her.

I’ve been better. I’ve been doing good. I haven’t felt weak, nor have I craved a drink in a while. Instead, I crave something else.

Someone else.

Britt has been my constant companion, we’ve been together whenever we aren’t working, and we text all day when we are.

I’m training eight hours a day, six days a week. But beyond that and school, we’re together.

She makes me happy, she makes me smile. And for a guy like me, that means something. Before she came along, my world was pretty fucking dark. But now… well, I guess she makes me feel hope again.

She gives me hope that life is worth living .

But not today.

Today I’ve ignored her texts. Today I’ve come to the gym, I’ve kept my head down, and I’ve trained hard.

Possibly the hardest session I’ve ever put in.

An inferno of energy and rage bubbles inside me, and anyone that so much as looks at me, cops my wrath.

This time twelve months ago, some man, someone I don’t know, decided to drink too much, then he drove. He didn’t know us, and we didn’t know him. Steph couldn’t have known that morning when she woke in my arms that it would be our last day together. We wouldn’t know that this man, this stranger, would change our lives.

For some reason I’ll never know, this stranger left a pub or a club, or fuck knows, he might’ve left church, and he was blitzed. He made the choice to get behind the wheel, and he set into motion a chain of events that could never be undone.

I felt the rage for so long after. I let it consume me. Then Bambie came along, spitting mad and sexy as hell, and she helped me forget for a while.

I didn’t forget Steph. I could never forget Steph. But I forgot the anger.

But not today.

I woke up just like I do every other day, but today, the anger and weight of heavy storm clouds hung over me. I didn’t smile at my morning wood, nor did I send the good morning text that I normally send Britt. And when I never sent it, she sent me a message asking what the hell was up.

I ignored it, then I switched off my phone.

I went down to breakfast and sat at the table with my head bowed low. In silence, I drank my coffee. I couldn’t stomach anything else, and Kit didn’t push it.

She knows what today is, too.

I got up when I was done, dropped a kiss on my nieces’ heads, and in my silence, I left. I came to the gym and trained with the guys, but they didn’t tease me, they didn’t bait me. Because they know what today is, too.

Everything I’ve worked for, everything they’ve worked for, seems to have come undone just like that. Like a loose thread in a yard of fabric, one single tug has everything unraveling. Because today, I feel the rage, and I feel the craving.

I want a drink, and I want to escape.

Like a tidal wave trapped behind a wall, the rage I pushed aside for months has built and built and built, and now that the wall is down, I’m drowning .

I should go to Britt. I should reply to her texts. She’s the only person on the planet treating today like normal, treating me like normal, and of course she is, because obviously she doesn’t know what today is.

I should find her and let her bring me back to normalcy, but the rage is hot, and I don’t want to burn her.

Tomorrow.

I’ll go to her tomorrow and I’ll make it better.

I’d like to be noble and say that today is for Steph. That I won’t be seeing my new girlfriend as my show of respect for my late girlfriend.

But that would be a lie.

Today’s for me, because I’m weak, and I don’t want Britt or my family to see the weakness in my eyes.

Today I’m going home, to my home, and I’m going to sleep it off.

Tomorrow, I can wake to a brand-new day, and it won’t be Steph’s day. Then I’ll fix everything I broke today.

Opening the door to the Mustang, I slide in after Annie, start the ignition, and sigh as Eminem’s angry rapping fills the car. He joined me in my rage on the way here this morning, and now he can keep me company on the way home.

Without saying goodbye to the guys, ignoring their pitying glances, I pull out of the gym parking lot and drive around town. Slowly rolling past the cemetery, I tell her I’m sorry.

I’m so fucking sorry.

I saw her five days ago. Too long. But I don’t stop today.

I can’t.

I don’t have the energy.

Instead, I continue past, turn the corner, and head back across town as I beg for the numb to overtake my body.

A drink could help me. One single drink.

Pulling up at the gates to both my home, and my prison, I enter the codes – my sister’s wedding date – and watch them swing open. Tapping the steering wheel, I study Britt’s hair tie on my wrist.

I wear it every day.

The days I want to smile, I simply look at it. The days I want to feel the pain, I flick it against my wrist.

Britt’s played with it a billion times in the past few weeks, but she doesn’t mention it. I’m not even sure she knows it’s hers.

It’s an unremarkable elastic.

Plain black. No distinguishing marks. It could be anyone’s. She never mentions it, she simply rolls it along my skin while we lay together and whisper in my room.

She’s spent a handful of nights in my bed, but for the most part, we sleep on opposite sides of town.

It’s probably time I moved back into my house. It’s time for me to grow the fuck up. I can’t expect Kit to catch me every time my life goes to shit, and I probably should at least try to appear as a grown-up with his own place, rather than an idiot who still lives at home with his folks.

Maybe that’s why Britt hasn’t told her brothers about me. Maybe I’m her dirty little secret. I probably wouldn’t introduce me to family, either. I’m a drunk who lost his shit, became a special breed of asshole, and moved back home because I was too much of a baby to deal with my shit alone.

Whatever.

Pulling into my driveway, I cut the engine and climb out. Following Annie to my front door, I push it open and step into the musky scent of absence and stale air.

If I was in any other frame of mind, I might open the curtains, open the windows, and let some air in. But I’m not, so I simply slam the door shut and walk through the heavily shadowed rooms.

I haven’t been in here in months. I haven’t even come in to collect razors or fresh underwear. I simply bought more. Or more accurately, Kit bought me more.

I let my family move my important things over to Kit’s, then I locked this bitch up and walked away.

There are ghosts everywhere in this house.

The photos of Steph and me are still face-down from the time I accused Britt of snooping.

A fucking lifetime ago.

I walk through my living room and fix the frames. It’s disrespectful that she lay face-down like this. I set them up so dozens of pairs of Steph’s light eyes stare at me, a penetrating accusation that follows me as I walk back into the main entrance.

I stop in the middle of the space and look up. This isn’t the chandelier that originally came with this house.

No, years before I moved in, this house was being used by a young family. Lindsi, a young mom on the run from her abusive husband needed a safe space. I was still only a teenager and had no need for this house yet, so my family lent it to Lindsi and her two small kids .

Their dad – Lindsi’s husband – just so happens to be Bean’s biological father.

He followed them here, waited for the estate to be empty of my family, then he hung her from my chandelier. He hung her to die.

But hers isn’t one of the ghosts that linger here.

No. It’s his.

Ben came into my home that night with the intention to murder his family – and maybe mine too, had he been given the chance – but instead, Lindsi got to her gun, aimed it point blank, and she splattered her husband’s brains all over my tile.

His is the ghost that haunts my home.

And just like how Britt helps me live with Steph’s ghost, Steph helped me live with his. But now neither woman is with me, and both ghosts tickle my insides and taunt me.

Shaking my head, I walk through to the kitchen and face more nightmares. More ghosts. This time, they come in the form of alcohol.

With the knowledge that my sister’s home has been cleared of all alcohol – her attempt to make my recovery easier – but my house remains untouched, I reach into the cabinet above the fridge and, pushing the clutter aside, take down the bottle of bourbon I knew I’d find.

Turning to lean against the fridge, I lift one leg and rest my foot on the fridge door, and with that feeling of acceptance swirling in my gut – that feeling of the inevitable – I stare at the black label with the white lettering. I stare at the black cap, the seal broken long ago. I stare at the amber liquid lazily sloshing side to side, down to only a third of the contents remaining.

I fucking hate this stuff.

It taunts me. Drink me, I taste good, but better than that, I can help you forget. I can help you sleep. When you sleep with me, you get to see Steph again. You want to see her, don’t you?

Yeah. I do want to see her again. I miss her so fucking much. But worst of all, completely disrespecting my sweet Stephanie’s memory, I also want to see Britt. Because she soothes my heart.

I don’t yearn for Steph so much when Britt’s there, not because she replaces Steph, but because she helps me remember the good times and live with them in my heart.

She helps me reconcile the past and appreciate the good, while accepting and letting go of the bad.

Instead of fixating on the fact I lost Steph, Britt’s presence helps me appreciate that I had her, if only for a little while. Her calm whispers and soft hands help me consider that maybe everything is already planned out; that maybe Steph’s destiny was already planned and she was going to die when she did no matter what. I find comfort in knowing she loved and was loved.

She was loved so fucking much.

Her time was good. She had a good life. And if she was going to die that day anyway, at least her time here was happy.

I won’t ever have to wonder if she felt the love.

I did wonder. I used to wonder every day. But with my clear mind came clarification. I loved her deeply, hopelessly, and I told her every single day. We may have bickered sometimes, but that comes with a couple of kids who were growing together. We had growing pains, but we still loved each other with everything in us.

Refocusing on the bottle in my hand, I unscrew the cap and swallow down my nerves. Taking a deep breath of stale air, I prepare myself, prepare for the onslaught of when the new scent wafts toward me.

I try to stay strong. I try not to do it, but as soon as the cap’s gone, my nose moves toward the lip of the bottle and I inhale the way I inhale Britt’s hair.

I breathe in so deep, I feel the alcohol travel to my toes.

I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to go backwards.

I’ve worked so hard to become better.

Just one sip. Just one time. It’s a special occasion. You owe it to yourself.

Staring at the bottle for a full minute, I argue with myself. One foot in front of the other. Don’t go back. It’s not actually back; it’s just pause.

If they just spared her, I wouldn’t be weak. If that asshole never drove that day, I wouldn’t be in my kitchen arguing with a bottle of bourbon.

With a shake of my head, I scrunch my eyes closed, lift the bottle, and tip it down the sink. With every glugging noise it makes as the amber liquid moves past the glass neck, comes a kind of peace.

I don’t have to drink. I don’t have to be weak.

I simply have to tip it out.

As the last drops drain down the sink, Annie’s presence filters back into my mind. I forgot she was here. I forgot she existed. It was just me and my ghosts, and I forgot she was here to protect me.

Jumping quickly, spinning excited circles in the middle of my kitchen, it’s almost as though she knows what I just did.

Or more accurately, what I didn’t do.

It’s like a mini celebration for my achievement, but then she darts across my tiles and sprints into the living room, leaving me all alone .

So much for a celebration.

At the sound of my doorbell chiming, the slide of toenails on tile, then a solid thump as Annie slams headfirst into my front door, I frown and start moving forward.

I don’t want to see anyone, but my legs move anyway.

A compulsion I don’t understand has me striding toward my guest, past the haunted chandelier and straight to the front door as Annie noisily sniffs at the gap at the bottom.

Opening the door with a wide flourish, I bask in the enthusiasm borne from the sweet victory of knowing I just poured away the bourbon. I did it myself, with no reward and no praise. I did it because the women in my life would be proud, even if they never actually know about it.

My heart stutters at the beautiful girl on the other side. I smile at her magnetic smile. I itch to stroke the long hair hanging over her shoulder and feathering in the afternoon sun.

It’s a school day, but she looks more like my Bambie than she does Miss T.

Stepping through the doorway without a verbal invitation, she winds her arms around my hips and holds on tight like only she can.

She’s small, but her hold is like steel.

“I know you were ignoring me today, but I have something for you.”

I close my eyes and breathe her in. Her unique scent – strawberries and Britt – replaces the bourbon that lingers in my nostrils. “Yeah, I was ignoring you. I’m sorry.”

“I know.” I can feel the smile in her voice. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but I don’t exactly slink away all meek and shit. I’ll never make it easy for you to ignore me.”

“I was struggling.”

She laughs against my chest. “I’m not surprised.” Pulling back, but resting her hands on my hips, she stares into my eyes. “I’m not leaving you alone to wallow. Can we go for a drive? I wanna show you something.”

“What if I said no?”

“Then I’d come inside and wallow with you.”

I close my eyes and pray to Stephanie. I tell her thank you. I don’t know how the universe works, but I’m so fucking thankful Britt came to me after Steph. I don’t know what I’d have done had I known them both at the same time. To choose would be like ripping my soul in half.

“You’d really come in?”

“I totally would. I really think my idea is better, but if you insist, then I’d run out to the store, I’d buy a ton of ice-cream, and we’d sit inside your dark house and we’d ride it out together.”

“How’d you get in the gates?”

“I called the girls. Someone opened them for me.”

I look over her shoulder and watch the moving curtains at my sister’s house.

Which of my sisters let her in?

Probably all of them.

They would’ve smashed their buzzer screens in their haste to let Britt in. They’ve seen this show before. The spiral that begins like today did. They couldn’t save me, so now they’re passing the baton on to Britt.

“Alright.”

“Alright?” Grinning victoriously, she squeezes my hip. “You’ll come with me?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“Boom!” She holds her closed fist out for me to bump, but I laugh and pull her into my chest, instead.

I’d much rather hug her.

Setting her on her feet beside Annie, I jog back inside to grab my hat and keys, then step back out, take her hand and walk off my haunted house porch.

“I gotta do somethin’ about that house.”

She watches me curiously, but ignores my words and leads me to her car, not mine.

“What…?”

“We’re taking mine. Get in.”

“But mine’s better,” I whine. “And faster. And sexier.”

“And also has my name scratched into the side.” She grins playfully and opens the driver’s side door. “Get in. I have something for you in my trunk, so we need to take mine.”

“Can’t we put your thing in my car?”

Allowing Annie to jump through her door like they’ve been doing this for a lifetime, Britt shrugs and flutters her lashes. “We could go in yours, but mostly I wanna see you squished in mine. I want to emasculate you while I drive. Humble pie oughtta taste good for a three-time world champion like you.”

“Six-time world champion,” I grumble. Extending my hand, I refuse to move a step closer. “Give me the keys. I’ll drive.”

“Yeah. Nah.” She grins wolfishly. “Don’t think so.”

Well, shit .

Everyone else was coddling me today. I was craving normalcy, but a little coddling from this beautiful girl wouldn’t go unappreciated.

Instead, I get sassy Bambie and legs bent almost to my chin as I fold my large body into her passenger seat. Blindly searching for the lever to push the seat back, Britt slides into the driver’s seat and watches me fumble.

“It’s back as far as it’s gonna go, Dr. Banner. Take a deep breath, then hold it. I don’t want you to transform and explode Miss Betsy.”

I grunt and almost dislocate my knee in an effort to get the door closed. “Miss Betsy?”

“Well, obviously my car, dummy.”

Where’s the coddling? Why won’t she coddle me?

Looking over my shoulder at Annie’s comfortable ass sprawled out in the back, I frown. “Swap you, girl?”

She opens her eyes contemptuously, snorts, then closes them again and promptly begins to snore.

I see how it is.

Rolling my eyes, I turn back to the front. “Can we go? I’d like to get out again before my spine fuses like this.”

“You’re cute when you’re trying to be snappy.”

“I’m not cute,” I grumble. “I’m sexy. I’m an asshole. Puppies and babies are cute.”

Other than laughing, she ignores my whining and pulls out of my driveway. Playing with the stereo absentmindedly, she stops on a Britney Spears song at least two decades old. “Wow, really?”

Her brow quirks. “What?”

“You listen to Britney Spears?”

“Sure, she’s amazing.”

“I think you just got ugly.”

Cackling, she slows and waits for the gates to open, and as we pull through, the wind races through her open windows, whipping her hair over her delicate shoulders.

Pulling her sunglasses down over her eyes, she looks way too fucking cool to hang out with me.

We move along residential streets, and I study her beautiful features as she sings along to Britney’s Womanizer .

The irony isn’t lost on me when she serenades me with the chorus and a sassy twinkle in her eyes. She knows every damn word, and I find myself impressed despite my reluctance. She can actually hold a tune, but then again, so can her brother. It’s not unreasonable to think the talent runs in the family.

This Brittany makes the other Britney tolerable.

“So where are we going?”

“We’re going shopping.”

“Ew.” My lip turns up in a sneer, an instant loathing at the prospect of standing around a mall for hours while I hold her purse.

Been there, done that before.

My sisters can waste an entire fucking week in a mall and not break a sweat.

“I hate shopping.”

“Lingerie shopping…?”

Sitting up straight in my tiny seat, I rearrange my rapidly growing dick. “Well, that’s something else. Are you gonna model them for me, Bambie?”

Smiling, she watches me out of the corner of her eyes. “I’ll model any lingerie you want, Jack.” She winks. “Any day. Any time.”

Well, fuck.

Me.

Now.

“But not today. Sorry. False alarm, we’re not actually going lingerie shopping.”

“Dammit, Bambie!”

Turning north and heading toward the lookout, she laughs freely and lets the wind carry the sound.

It’s going on early evening already, the street lights are flickering on, the sun will be down within the hour.

“But I’ll give you a gobbie.”

I choke on my spit and re-dislocate my knee as I spin. “Don’t fuck with me, woman!”

“Ha! Jokes. I’m probably not gonna do that either.”

My heart breaks. “Why are you hurting me, Bambie? Why are you torturing me?”

She laughs again. “I’m sorry. I have plans for us tonight, so I need you to stop asking questions.”

“Do I get a blowjob at all?”

She glances out the side of her glasses and smirks evilly. “If you play your cards right, then maybe. We’ll see.”

“That sounds like a no. Also, the word gobbie sounds far too crass to come out of your sweet mouth. ”

“Crass?” She laughs. “I’m no lady.”

I bounce my brows. “You’re a lady to me. A sexy lady with a beautiful pussy.”

She smiles again. “I’ll admit to having a nice pussy. I mean, it feels good when you use it, so I assume it’s a good pussy as far as pussies go. But I’m no lady. Remind me to tell you about the time I dropped out of etiquette school.”

“No way!”

“True, though I’m not sure if dropped out is the right description.”

For the first time today, a smile pushes my cheeks high. “No? Then how would you describe it?”

“Well, I was physically escorted out and supervised until X picked me up.”

“Maybe you should’ve offered the principal a gobbie…”

She laughs and turns onto the winding road that leads to the lookout. “I would, but she probably wouldn’t like it.”

I nod seriously, though I feel the laughter in my belly. “That’s probably true.” I look over at her. “I could probably teach you how to eat out a chick. For next time.”

She literally shivers. “You could probably keep doing that. A lot. I’ll take notes.”

Pleasure rumbles through my chest as I think of the handful of times I’ve tasted Britt’s pretty pussy.

Maybe after I deal with my haunted house – rolling the whole thing down, or having a priest come in and cleanse it, one or the other – maybe after that, I’ll ask her to move in with me. That feels a little… premature.

But I like her, she likes me, and we get along.

And that way I get to taste her pretty pussy every morning.

Sounds like a good deal to me.

I never officially asked Steph to move in with me. We were together a lot, but neither of us made the move. Seven years together and I didn’t ask the question. Then at the snap of fingers, it was too late.

I won’t make the same mistake twice.

I’m dragged out of my thoughts as we pull to a stop at the top of the lookout in the same spot we sat on the hood of my car and kissed.

The town lights flicker on and illuminate houses in the distance.

“We can see your house from here,” Britt murmurs quietly.

The music is still on, but it’s low, barely discernible. She points with her chin in the direction I know our estate is in, but I don’t look. I know it’s there. I’ve been up here a million times .

“We can see yours, too,” I reply conversationally.

She looks over at me with a soft smile. “I wanted to do something for you tonight.”

Her soft smile says she’s serious, but I’m not ready for serious.

I just want her .

I want her smiles. Her laughter. Her happiness makes me happy.

“But the thing you wanna do is not a BJ, correct?”

“Correct.” Giggling, she takes her sunglasses off and throws them onto the dash. “I wanna tell you something, okay?”

I nod, because this sounds more serious than I can handle. This sounds like someone died, or she’s breaking up with me.

They’re the same thing in my world.

“Go on.”

Please don’t go on.

She unclips her seatbelt, turns in her seat, and lifts her leg so it rests over the middle console. Instantly, I place my hand over her thigh and anchor her close. If she’s breaking up with me, then I want to touch her, so I can stop her when she runs.

Resting her soft hand over the top of mine, she strokes my fingers and eases my heart. “I know what today is, Jack.”

I slowly lift my eyes to meet hers. “You do?”

“Yeah. As soon as you told me about Steph, I realized you guys are kinda famous. My brother was on the job that day. I remember when he got home that night, he was really messed up about it. A lot of his job messes with him, but that day was different.” She fusses with the hair tie on my wrist. “I couldn’t have known just how different it would be. That I would end up here, with the man that was hurt, the man who belonged to the girl who died.”

I close my eyes as a fresh wave of pain washes over me.

Died is such a strong fucking word. It punches me in the solar plexus every time.

“So I know today is the twelve month anniversary.”

Unable to hold her gaze, I go back to studying her hand and the fingers rolling her hair tie. “Yeah.”

“So I wanted to do something for it. She doesn’t ever have to be ignored or forgotten.”

I look back up at the double-edged guilt. “I don’t ignore or forget her.”

“I know you don’t, but I see your guilt. Guilt that you’re here, and she’s not. Guilt that you were driving that day, but you survived.” She stops and stares into my eyes. “I see the guilt when you look at me. You feel guilty for being with me, like you’re cheating on her. Then you feel guilty because you think that hurts me, like you’re cheating on me.”

“I don’t know how to reconcile you both,” I admit quietly. I’m too weak to meet her gaze, too tired to keep my head up. “I don’t know how to be happy. I don’t know how to be with you without it feeling like I’m spitting in her face.”

“You don’t have to feel guilty anymore, Jack. She’s not here, so you’re not cheating on her. I know your history. I know you love her. I know everything. And I’m okay with it. So, you’re not cheating on me, either.”

“But, Bambie–”

“It’s alright, Jack.” She squeezes my hand. “You already have so much to hurt over, so much devastation and loss. I won’t add anything to your already over heaped plate of guilt.”

She leans forward and lays a soft kiss on my cheek. On the spot my dimple digs in. “So, I have something for you today. I’m hoping to ease your guilt.”

“How?”

Smiling softly, she brings our joined hands to her mouth and kisses mine. “Our visitors are just in time.” She looks past me to the Kincaid minivan pulling up ten feet away from us. Then more cars. More trucks. “Hop out. I have something for you.”

She climbs out of the car and lets Annie jump out her door. I climb out after her and study my family as they flood from their cars.

I don’t know what to expect, perhaps a chainsaw wielding psycho to chop us up and bury us in a shallow grave, but when Bambie opens her trunk and a half a million helium inflated balloons pop out, my eyes flare wide.

The little kids squeal with delight, but I’m too damn confused to even question why thirty people have just arrived on our lookout.

“Don’t worry about the balloons,” she murmurs. “They’re all tied down to the tire wrench. They’re not going anywhere till we untie them.”

I nod and watch her root around in the bottom of the trunk. Pulling out a handful of sharpies, then about a hundred balloon strings, she turns away amid a mass of white balloons floating in the space above her head.

“Come with me.”

I follow her to a shitty, old wooden picnic bench that we’ve never used. My car has always been perfectly comfortable. Standing on the chair, then sitting on the table, Britt faces me with a gentle smile and offers a marker.

Our visitors stand back in silence. The adults grab the smaller kids, and the bigger kids – Evie and Bean – stand hand in hand and watch my world spin out of control.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Tell her you love her.”

I frown. Turning the sharpie around and around in my hand, I look up. “What?”

She passes me a single floating balloon. “Tell her you love her. Remind her of why you love her. Tell her everything you never got to, everything you wish you did. Tell her you’re doing okay, because I know she’s worried.”

“I still don’t get it. Why’s everyone here?”

Nodding, she maneuvers the hundred balloon strings and sits on them to free up her hands. Taking a single balloon and a sharpie, she starts writing on it.

A minute later, she spins it to face me. ‘Steph, I love you because you loved Jack.’

My throat closes up, and when she releases the balloon, a single tear slides over my cheek and tickles my bottom lip as I watch it float toward the heavens.

“They’re here because they love you, Jack.” She waits for my eyes to come back to hers. “They’re here because they want you to know they love Steph, too. And for as long as she lives on in so many hearts, she’ll never truly be gone. They’re here because you’re not alone in this.” She nods toward my balloon. “Now it’s your turn.”

A final car pulls up behind Jon’s truck, and when the family of three climb out with tears already in their eyes, dread and guilt sit low in my belly. “Fuck.”

Climbing out of the car, Steph’s mom walks toward me with ribbons of tears streaming over her face.

I haven’t seen her in months.

I was terrified to ever show my face, for fear that she blamed me for what happened to her daughter. If I ever saw her or her husband in the store – not that I went often – I tucked my tail and ran my ass back home. If I saw her brother out in the clubs, I simply left.

There’s no way in hell, not even drunk and stoned, that I was stupid enough to hang around and let Matty see me out of control.

And I especially refused to let him see me with another woman.

“Marian.”

“Jack.” Threading her arms around my stomach, Steph’s mom presses her face against my chest. “I’ve missed you, honey. You have no clue how much I’ve missed you.”

I look up to the sky and try not to cry like a baby. “I’m sorry I haven’t been by–”

“Hey.” Shaking her head, she pulls back to meet my eyes. “It’s okay. We grieve in our own way. We cope the best we can.”

“Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah.” She sniffles. Her husband and son hover close behind her. “Today’s kind of hard, but I’m okay.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Your sweet friend Brittany called me.” Marian reaches out blindly and takes Britt’s hand like they’re old friends. “She said she had something for us. I guess you’re our something. Gosh, I’ve missed you.”

Curiously, I look down into Bambie’s eyes.

“I called Kit,” she answers my unspoken thought. “She gave me Marian’s number. I just wanted you to know you’re not alone. I want you to let go of the guilt.”

“We don’t blame you, honey. What happened to my baby was the drunk driver’s fault. You protected her for so long. You loved her. We’ve never blamed you.”

Stepping forward, Steph’s dad takes Marian under his arm and extends a hand toward me. “I’ve missed you, son. It’s been so quiet without you and Steph. We already lost her, don’t let us lose you, too.”

“You never took me out for that beer you promised,” Matty says.

I look into Steph’s baby brother’s eyes. No longer a kid, but a twenty-one-year-old man. I won’t ever take him out for that beer, but maybe we could still hang out.

“I’ve missed you, Jack.”

I step forward – and take Bambie with me, because I just can’t let her go – and I throw my arm around Matty. “I’ve missed you too, bud. I’m sorry I ditched.”

“It’s alright.” He steps back. “This girl,” he nods at Britt, “she just your friend, or…”

I glance down at Britt’s stupid grin, then back up to his. “Huh?”

“She’s kinda hot.”

“Matthew!” Marian slaps her son’s arm. “Stop that.”

Laughing, he steps back with raised hands. “Maybe you could slip me some fight passes or something. I’m not as cool as I used to be, now that I can’t claim you as my brother. The hot girls want the fighters. And you’re only someone I used to know. ”

I laugh, and though it sounds watery and weak, it feels cathartic. “I’ll hook you up, I promise. And you can claim me. It’d be my honor to be the reason you get the hot chicks.”

“Jack!” Marian slaps my arm, but it’s all for show. We all grieve in our own way. We all cope the best we can.

Turning back to Bambie, I press a kiss to the top of her head, then I take the cap off my marker and accept the balloon she offers.

With shaking hands, I simply write, ‘I love you.’

Sticking close to me when everyone else takes a step back, Britt nods and presses a gentle kiss to my chest. “Now let it go. Let her catch it on her end. She can’t see this balloon until you let it go.”

“Fuck, Bambie.” Using my shoulder, I scrub the tear from my cheek.

“I’ve got you,” she promises. “Look at us. Look around you. You can let your guard down, because we’re all here to protect you. I swear I’ll always have your back.”

I purposely, consciously, open my fingers one at a time, and when the string escapes my grasp, I watch the white balloon float toward the dark sky.

“Good. Now tell her something else. Tell her everything. Don’t worry about pollution, we won’t get arrested. I’ll make sure of it.”

Laughing, choking, crying, I accept another balloon, and in my peripherals, I watch my sister hand out balloons and markers to my family.

Nodding, I write again, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything.”

Britt’s eyes turn sad, almost disappointed. “I don’t think you have anything to be sorry for. But if you feel like you’ve gotta say it, then let the balloon go.”

I do. I let it go, and I let the weight ease from my chest.

Now that the floodgates have opened, I take a handful of balloons and write everything I can think of; I write about our first date. I write about her freckles and hair. I write about the golden-yellow flakes in her eyes.

The guilt slides through my belly as I write about the first time Steph and I made love. I angle my balloon away from Britt and Steph’s dad, because neither of them need to see my words. I write about the virginities we gave up for each other, and the sex talk I was given when my brother thought I was already experienced.

I wasn’t.

I was in love and thinking ahead.

I tell Steph how thankful I was that she chose me, and how she kept me humble, how she kept me grounded. How she was there for me every single time I needed her .

With every balloon I release into the dark sky, the guilt I’ve been holding onto for a year lessens. Like a coil wound tight in my gut, each message I send helps unknot it.

She didn’t give her life or dreams up for mine. She was my partner, she was my equal, and she wanted the same things I did.

Every couple minutes, I glance over to watch Britt write on her own balloons, but just like she doesn’t ask me to read mine aloud, I don’t ask about hers.

She obviously has something she wants to say. I’m okay with that.

Eventually, as our group releases the balloons and we’re down to just three, I take one and tell Steph that I love her, but that I love Britt, too. I ask for forgiveness, and maybe her blessing. I send it floating before Britt can see it, because I’m not ready for that conversation yet.

Releasing one at the same time I do, Britt’s balloon races with mine. The string tails wind and dance together, and in their rush to get to Steph first, they disappear into the darkness long before I’m ready.

“One left,” Britt murmurs softly.

I nod. “One left.”

“Anything you wanna say? Don’t worry… if you want more, I can get us more.”

I think long and hard. I think about what I’ve told her already. I recall everything I apologized for; everything . And everything I loved about her; everything .

I look at a weeping Marian as her husband comforts her, though tears slide along his cheeks, too.

“There’s nothing left to say but to introduce you.”

Britt’s shy smile wobbles. “You wanna introduce us?”

“Yeah. You said she’s catching these on the other side. So…” I take the marker and begin writing. “ Jack and Bambie.” I add today’s date, then step forward and take Marian’s hand in mine. Turning the balloon so both women can read it, I wait for their watery eyes to meet mine.

This is a big moment.

This is me introducing Steph, Britt, and Marian.

I would’ve gone my whole life dodging Marian in the store so I’d never have to introduce her and Britt. I would’ve spent a lifetime eating the guilt for being with Britt and never gathering the courage to tell my dead girlfriend’s mother about her.

But now she knows.

And with a gentle smile, she helps me release the balloon into the universe so it can go off to meet her daughter .

Exactly twelve months after Steph died, I introduce her and her mom to Britt.

Britt winds her arm around my hip. “How do you feel?”

Like maybe you were sent here to save my life.

“Better.”

Smiling, she presses a kiss to the ball of my shoulder. “Good. Wanna dance with me?”

I nod and ride the emotional slide that is new love and old grief. They mix within me, swirling colors that transform into something new and beautiful.

Britt skips away to turn her car stereo up, then sauntering back like the sex kitten she is, I take her against my chest and breathe her in.

“Don’t be a stranger, son.” I look up and nod as Steph’s dad squeezes my shoulder.

“Thank you for today,” Marian says. “Both of you. Thank you for inviting us, Brittany.” Soft tears sit on her lashes as she squeezes Britt’s hand. “This meant a lot to me. Instead of sitting at home and crying tonight, I got to spend time with family. It’s been a long year without her, but tonight you gave me a chance to speak with her again.”

The couple and their son walk away and climb back into their car, then the Rollers corral their children and tuck everyone into their car seats.

They were here as support. They were here for me. But now I have Britt, so they can go home and not worry anymore.

I hold Britt’s soft body against mine and dwarf her with my size.

I feel like a god.

A god that will protect her with everything I am for the rest of my days.

Holding her hip and pulling her tight against my body, I breathe her in and sway to the music floating on the breeze. Her face rests against my chest, her lips pressing gentle kisses to my heart. Her hair sits below my nose, tickling and fragrant; with her in my arms, in the dark, in the silence except for the soft music in the air, I hold on and thank Steph for the second chance I was given at life.

We dance for a long time. We dance even when the sky opens up and a light sprinkle of rain coats our hair and shoulders. It’s not enough to soak us, but enough to shroud us in our own world, our own bubble of… us.

We dance until we slump in each other’s arms, then we drive home and make love, slowly, quietly, peacefully.

Tomorrow, we start a brand-new year.

A year that’s hopefully better than the last.