Page 250 of Second Sets Omnibus

“Why don’t we take a walk,” he whispers, nodding out the window toward the headstones. “Lyric, you want to put those flowers in both your grandmas’ vases?” He clutches my hand as he speaks softly to Ly.

“Yes!” she squeals, scrambling to remove herself from her booster seat.

The warm sun heats my skin the moment I step out of the car, helping Lyric jump from the vehicle. She giggles as she clutches the flowers, one bouquet in each hand.

“I can’t wait to give these to my grandmas!” Her grin brings more tears to my eyes.

“You understand, don’t you, baby? That your grandmas aren’t living. That they’re somewhere different than Earth?” I ask, crouching down in front of her. “Sometimes humans get sick and only get better when they leave Earth for better places.”

Bloated tears gloss Lyric’s eyes when she nods in understanding.

“Daddy told me.” She sniffles, staring into the bright colors of the flowers. “But Daddy said both grandmas were smiling down from the sky, watching me. So, I wants to talk to them.” She gives a firm nod, full of four-year-old determination. “I wants to give them flowers and kiss their stones. Daddy said they’d like that lots.”

“They would, baby,” I whisper, tucking a piece of her dark locks behind her ear. “They really would.” I kiss her forehead before I stand tall.

“Lead the way,” I quietly say to Asher, who nods, putting a hand on Ly’s shoulder, and leads the way toward the graves we haven’t been to in years.

It’s funny that Mrs. Montgomery was here as I mourned my mother. How many times did Asher stand in this exact spot with tears in his eyes?

“You can put them in here,” Asher murmurs, directing the flowers to the tiny vases connected to the base of each headstone.

“And grandmas will get them where they are?” she asks, kneeling before my mother’s grave, clinging to both bouquets.

“Yes, Ly,” I softly say, kneeling beside her. “You remember Grandma Stella, right? She was my mommy, and she died when she got really sick. Her body couldn’t take it anymore, so she went to meet her maker.” I kiss her head when she sniffles again, placing the first flower bundle into the vase.

“What about your mommy?” Lyric looks up at Asher with those big puppy dog eyes as he rests beside her, leaning against his mother’s headstone a touch away.

He smiles. “Kathryn Montgomery. She was the best cook,” he chuckles, rubbing a hand along his chest. “I got my hair from my mommy, just like you did yours.”

Ly wrinkles her nose. “Mommy says I gots daddy’s hair,” she murmurs, running her hand through her hair.

“Every morning, my mom got up early and made pancakes. Sometimes, I’d sneak in and help. We’d add anything we wanted. Blueberries, chocolate chips, and caramel chips. She loved cooking and playing with me.” His eyes drift upwards, examining the fluffy clouds blowing in the wind.

“What happened to your mommy?” Ly whispers, shuffling toward Asher with the flowers outstretched.

Emotions choke my throat at her simple question. She’s been desperate to know all about them, and finally, she’s getting the answers she’s been seeking.

Asher pulls her into his lap, leaning against his mother’s headstone together. Running a hand through her long hair, he kisses her cheek.

“My mommy was very sad,” he whispers with a tortured expression twisting his face. But he doesn’t show it to her. He keeps all his emotions hidden from her inquisitive eyes, except for the tears. “She got very sick, too. For some reason, she left this earth. But I know she loved me.”

I’m frozen with a heavy tongue. Unable to utter a word as I watch them together.

“I’ll give her flowers now,” Ly sniffles again, crawling off his lap and planting herself in the grass. Reaching over, she places the last bouquet into the vase with a tiny smile. “Hope you like your flowers, Grandma,” she murmurs, kissing the granite.

“I think she will, Little One,” he says, leaning forward to kiss her cheek until she grins.

Warmth fills every molecule in my body as they continue to converse one-on-one. Lyric watches him intently, absorbing every word he utters about his mother and the stories he tells.

The sound of crunching rocks pulls my attention away from them and onto another car stopping behind ours. One by one,the other guys get out with suits plastered to their bodies and flowers in their hands.

My fucking heart stops at the sight of them slowly walking toward us with varying expressions.

“Oh, Pretty Girl,” Rad murmurs, sitting beside me in the grass, not bothering to keep his new suit clean from stains. “I’m so sorry you had to come and do this all by yourself. I fucking loved Stella. She was so damn bossy,” he tsks the last part jokingly.

His fingers brush against my jaw, sending shivers down my spine. Without hesitation, I brush my lips against his, capturing him in a simple kiss, trying to convey my thanks.

“I think she liked you guys, too. She even called you ‘good guys,’” I chuckle, pulling back with admiration in my heart. “Thank you all for being here. This… It means a lot to have you here.”