Page 8 of Love You Still

“You’re welcome,” they say before taking a step back and returning to the small café. I make my way to the driver’s side of the car, climb in, and head to Connor’s parents’ house.

I’m not in the car for long before I arrive. Mr. and Mrs. Bennett’s house is a few blocks from Connor and Lydia’s. Lydia’s parents live a few blocks in the opposite direction, putting their house directly in the center of the two. I asked Connor why he wanted to live so close to his parents, and he said he wanted their child to be able to walk to their grandparents’ house, just like he did before his grandparents passed away.

I pull into the driveway and shut off the car, wanting a few more minutes to collect my thoughts and get a hold of my emotions. After a few deep, cleansing breaths, I climb out of thecar, making my way over to the passenger side to grab breakfast. After a few failed attempts, I manage to carry everything to the front door and use my elbow to ring the doorbell.

Mrs. B opens the door. Her salt-and-pepper hair hangs loosely around her shoulders. Instead of her usual attire, she’s wearing a pair of dark-colored jeans and one of our high school football sweatshirts. Her face is completely devoid of makeup, which is also unusual for her, but understandable, given the circumstances. Her eyes are bloodshot from crying, and dark circles appear under her green eyes. She barely manages a smile as she reaches for the boxes in my hands. “Hey, honey.”

“Hey yourself,” I reply, stepping around her and striding directly to the kitchen.

“Did you plan on feeding an army?” Mr. Bennett chimes in from his place at the table.

His wire-rimmed glasses are perched on the end of his nose as he takes a sip from his mug. Mr. Bennett and Connor look almost exactly alike. Connor is a few inches taller than his dad, but they have the same green eyes, strong jaw, and messy dirty-blonde hair. His normally clean-shaven face is covered in stubble, new growth since he shaved sometime yesterday morning.

“Nope. The ladies at Just the Drip hooked us up,” I answer, placing all my goodies on the island in the center of the kitchen. “They also said if we need more food to let them know.” Okay, that isn’t exactly what they said, but I’m sure they’d be happy to oblige.

Once I have everything open and grab plates for the three of us, I take a seat at the island. “Is Connor sleeping?” I ask, my eyes scanning both of them, searching for any hint of them lying to me.

Mrs. B takes a sip of coffee and hums softly. “Yes, finally. He just sat on the couch for a few hours, staring out the windowbefore we convinced him to get some rest.” Her voice catches slightly as tears stream down her cheeks. “He’s so lost, Vance. I don’t know how to help him through this.”

“You’re doing exactly what you can, Mrs. B. Being there for him. It’s going to be hard on all of us, him most of all, but we will all get through this.” I push to my feet and wrap my arms around her shoulders from behind. I rest my chin on the top of her head, just like I’ve always done since I discovered I was taller than her in the sixth grade, hoping that a simple act could give her some comfort.

“When did you get here?” Connor’s gruff voice echoes through the silent room.

“Just a few minutes ago. I brought breakfast,” I say, a fake smile on my face as I take in my best friend’s appearance.

His hair looks like a rat’s nest is sitting on the top of his head from sleep, dark circles under his lifeless eyes. Connor looks like a zombie, someone going through the motions for the sake of others, but he’s dead inside.

“Oh. Thanks for coming,” he mutters as he shuffles toward the table and plops down in the empty seat beside his father.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else but here,” I reply, grabbing a plate off the counter and piling it high with food.

It is at this moment I realize that nothing else matters besides my best friend. I will help him through this. I’ll remind him he has a tiny piece of his soul mate with him. That their daughter will be the most loved and spoiled little girl on the planet, if I have anything to do with it. And that I’ll be here for both of them, no matter what. This will probably be the second hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I have no other choice. Connor and Lydia got me through the worst days of my life. It’s time for me to return the favor.

Chapter 4

Vance

“I’ll take these into the kitchen,” I say, for what feels like the millionth time today. “I don’t want to speak for Mr. and Mrs. B, but I’m sure they appreciate your kindness.” I force a smile before placing the container of food on the table and returning to my seat beside Connor.

I haven’t left this spot for more than a few moments since people began arriving around lunchtime. Everyone wants to pay their respects and let Connor know they are here if he needs anything. I’m sure deep down he appreciates it, not that he has said as much, but he can’t bring himself to do anything besides stare out the window. His eyes remain focused on the large tree in the backyard. The tire swing his dad hung for us when we were kids blows gently in the wind as the sun sets.

“This was Lydia’s favorite time of day,” Connor says, only loud enough for me and his parents to hear him.

Mrs. B cries loudly, burying her face in her hands as Mr. B wraps his arms around her shoulder. “It sure was. She said that sunset was the time to let all your worries and concerns from the day free and embrace the chance to start over again tomorrow.”

“Too bad it doesn’t allow you to go back in time,” Connor croaks, tears silently streaming down his cheeks.

My eyes fill with tears at the mention of her name, my chest tightening with emotions I refuse to let break free. My mind races to find the perfect thing to say. That one phrase that could ease all his pain, but there’s only one thing that comes to mind. “I’m sorry. So sorry, Connor.”

“Why are you sorry?” he questions, his fist clenching tightly on his knees. “Did you kill my wife?”

He pushes to his feet, his entire body pulled taut as his pent-up emotions come exploding from inside him all at once.

“No, you didn’t. It was some fluke allergy that only one in a million people have that did it. How fucking lucky for us. Maybe I should go buy a lottery ticket. I’ll win the jackpot with this kind of luck.”

All eyes in the room lock on him, watching him crumble under the weight of his loss. No one says a word, their eyes filled with unshed tears as they watch him slowly self-destruct. I knew this moment was coming, the moment Connor was going to lose all control of his emotions, but I assumed it would have been when we were alone, away from the prying eyes of all our neighbors and friends.

“Maybe we should get some fresh air. You’ve been cooped up in this house for hours.” I reach for his arm, attempting to lead him from the prying eyes. “If anyone understands…” I begin, but Connor’s eyes widen in horror as he snatches his arm away from me.

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