Page 150 of Remember Us This Way

God, even now, five years later, it doesn’t get any easier.

I’ve kept myself distracted. When I have something to keep my mind running, I find I don’t get lost in the darkness quite so easily, but it does nothing to ease the gaping hole Zoey left inside my chest. But fuck, I would do it a million times over, just to relive those eighteen years. I would endure the most brutal pain to hold her one more time. To smell her. To kiss her and hear the sound of her voice telling me she loves me.

Her birthday messages have been a godsend. I’ve looked forward to them every year, clinging to her words like a starved junkie desperate for his next hit.

Just as Zoey had always hoped for me, I was signed to the NFL straight out of college, and I kept my head down, pushing my limits and stretching the boundaries. It means this past year, I’ve had to be away more than I’d like to be. I’ve always tried to keep close with Hazel. Zoey was right, we needed each other, especially in those twelve months following her death. We helped each other through it, and she was able to lean on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to lean on her. She was too young to have to deal with my pain too. But still, just being in her company and listening to her stories about Zoey was more than I needed from her.

Now, she’s seventeen and more trouble than any of us were prepared for. Linc would have loved it. She’s rebellious, and for the most part, it’s fucking hilarious, but her dad is going gray trying to keep up with her crazy ass. I promised Zoey I would watch out for her, and while Hazel is doing her best to push her own boundaries, sometimes I’ve needed to step in and make sure she’s not getting herself in trouble.

Today, she’s graduating, which is exactly what’s brought me back to East View. I just need to swing by my mom’s place, say hello and check in with Linc, and then I’ll be heading over to Zoey’s.

She hasn’t been there for five years, and I still refer to it as her place. I don’t think that will ever change.

All too aware of how much time I don’t have, I get back in my car and head down to Mom’s house. Not stopping to knock, I fly through the front door like always but stumble to a horrified stop when I see Mom and Principal Daniels making out on the couch like horny teenagers.

“Ah, fuck,” I grunt, turning away and wondering how much bleach I’ll need to pour directly into my eyeballs to be able to scrub that image from my mind.

Mom laughs and pulls herself off the couch as Daniels gets up and straightens his tie, neither of them looking the least bit sorry. They started seeing each other late last year after his wife ran off with her Pilates instructor, and honestly, my mom has never been happier. He’s good to her. He was always good to me too, even when I didn’t deserve it, and while I’m happy for her and wish them all the best, nothing will ever feel right about seeing your mother hooking up with your high-school principal.

“Noah, honey,” Mom says, striding right into me and throwing her arms around my neck, pulling me in tight. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

“What are you talking about? I’m late,” I say, glancing over her shoulder at Daniels. “And if I’m late, that means you’re definitely late.”

His brows furrow, and as he glances down at his watch, his eyes widen. “Ah, shit,” he grumbles, looking around for his suit jacket. “We must have lost track of time.”

Mom chuckles and smirks at Daniels as she pulls out of my arms and scoops up his jacket, holding it out to him. “It was worth it.”

He grins right back at her before leaning in and pressing a kiss to her lips. “Damn straight it was,” he says, and then he’s out the door, hurrying toward his car.

I pull the door closed behind him and stride down the hall, detouring to Linc’s room and sitting with him for a minute before striding down to my old room. I haven’t been in here for a while, haven’t needed to, and for the most part, I try to avoid sleeping in any of the beds Zoey and I ever shared together. When I do, I’ve never felt so cold.

My hand closes around the door handle, and I push it open only to find my bedroom window wide open. My brows furrow, and I walk toward it, wondering why the fuck Mom would have left it open like that. She never does. Hell, she barely ever comes in here because most of the shit in here is filled with my memories of Zoey.

As I grip the window frame to close it, I’m knocked back a step as a massive fucking bird flies straight through. Its bright colors practically smack me in the face as it scrambles through my childhood bedroom, knocking shit over in a panic.

“Fuck,” I grunt, trying to catch it, only it evades me with ease before finally coming to a stop on my bedside table, its big wings knocking over the framed photo of Zoey from our wedding day.

The bird watches me, and I hold my hands out as if to tell it I mean no harm, and then I slowly inch toward it, preparing to grab it and shove it back out the window. I mean, fuck. What kind of bird is it anyway? It’s beautiful, but shit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one like it.

As I creep across my room, the bird suddenly jumps, launching itself over to my bed, walking across the bedspread until it’s standing right on top of Zoey’s book, the one I had published that she’d titled Remember Us This Way.

I go to shoo it off, not caring where the hell it wants to stand, just not on that, but it keeps moving its feet, up and down like the bird version of stomping, and I pause, wondering if it’s trying to send me some kind of message.

Nah. That’s fucking ridiculous.

I move a little closer, and as I lean toward it, the chain around my neck falls forward, both of Zoey’s wedding rings dancing right in front of the bird’s face, catching its attention. The bird leans in and knocks its head against the rings, and I pull back, staring at it in wonder.

What in the ever-loving fuck?

Maybe I’ve taken a few too many hits to the head during training because, right now, I’m starting to wonder if this bird is my dead wife. She told me that if she could be reincarnated, she’d come back as a big, colorful bird that could soar high through the sky, and then she reminded me of that in the letter she left for me, telling me to keep my window open.

So either this is a really weird coincidence or . . .

“No fucking way,” I mutter, gazing at the bird, my heart launching right out of my chest.

The bird creeps toward me, and I hesitantly hold out my hand, certain it’s about to bite the whole fucking thing off with its strong beak. Instead, it rubs its head across my hand before gazing up at me. I crouch down, putting myself eye-to-eye with the bird. There’s something about it that tells me if this thing had a human face, it’d be smirking at me, smug as fuck.

“Am I crazy for thinking you’re my Zoey?” I ask, my voice shaking.

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