Page 103 of Here With Me

I blow out a shaky breath. “Yeah, anythin'.”

“Did you mean what you said earlier about fallin' in love with me?”

Fuck, she's not making this easy.

“Yeah, Goldie. Meant every word.”

I walk up the steps to Jase's apartment and knock. After I drove to the main house, Garrett explained that Gramma Grace cleaned him up, and after they had achatabout respect, he went home.

“What?” Jase answers, looking as defeated as I feel with a nearly empty beer can in his hand.

I wince at his double black eyes and nose bandage. “You cooled down?”

He shrugs, then nods.

“Good. Get your shoes on.”

“Where are we goin'?” he asks with hesitation as if he plans to argue.

“To visit your sister.”

I haven't been to Lyla's grave since the day we buried her. I wish I could say I recall every second of that day, but I was too numb to process any of it. The only memory I have is of Mariah crying next to her mom and my parents sitting next to Jase.

My mind blocked out everything outside of that.

“Did your mom ever take you here?” I ask, driving slowly through the cemetery. A shiver runs through my body as I look out at the tombstones. I hate cemeteries.

“Each year on her birthday.” Jase keeps his voice low as he looks out his window.

Once I park and we get out of my truck, I realize I don't remember where hers is. I never came again after the funeral. I knew being here would remind me of her absence and what happened in the weeks following her death, but there's no valid excuse for not visiting.

I'm a shit father.

Luckily, I don't have to ask because Jase takes the lead. The flowers they left for her last time are long dead, and I regret not bringing a fresh bouquet.

“Your mom picked out a nice tombstone.”

Staring down at it, I read it for the first time.

Beloved daughter and sister

Lyla Eleanor Underwood

October 13 2001 - May 3 2013

“Grandma did. Mom couldn't hold it together long enough to decide.”

“Oh.” I stand with my hands in my pocket, debating how to start this conversation I never planned on having with him. “She's not the only one who couldn't.”

“Honestly, I don't remember much. Only that Mom cried all day every day and you were gone a few weeks later.” His somber tone drives a knife into my heart because once he hears the truth, it could change everything.

“I didn't wanna leave you, Jase. I wanted to be strong enough, but I was at war with myself.”

He looks over at me, his brows pinched together. “Because they blamed you?”

“I blamed myself, too. The guilt ate me alive. The pain of losin' her consumed me.” I shake my head, ashamed that it took ten years to have this talk with him. “There's somethin' ya should know about why I was gone. I dunno how much it'll matter now, but you deserve the truth.”

I lower myself to the ground, flattening my palm to the fresh-cut grass and feeling closer to her than I have in years.