Page 76 of Remember Us This Way

“I know. My lips are sealed, but I’m not going to lie, it’s nice knowing I have that little bit of information in my back pocket to save for a rainy day,” she says before fixing me with a hard stare. “Now, are we going to pretend you didn’t just gloss over the week of lunchtime detentions? Care to share?”

I laugh and shake my head. “I can’t tell you all my secrets now, can I?”

Zoey rolls her eyes but falls silent as I pull into the main entrance of East View Cemetery. My hands start to shake on the wheel as a lump forms in my throat, and I try to hide how hard it is to breathe. Undeniable guilt washes over me for not having been here since Linc’s funeral, but if I didn’t have Zoey here with me, I wouldn’t have the strength to go further than the front gates.

“It’s okay,” she tells me. “You can do this.”

I hold her stare for a moment before letting out a deep breath and hitting the gas.

East View Cemetery is huge, and since I haven’t been here for so long, Zoey has to give me directions. Then all too soon, she’s telling me to pull over. My hands never stop shaking, not when I get out of the car, and not when Zoey falls into my side and takes my hand in hers.

We walk through the manicured grass, and a part of me is glad to see how well this cemetery has been looked after. Every single tombstone is sparkling, and despite the many trees lining the rows of graves, there’s not a single fallen leaf lingering on the ground.

Zoey leads me through the rows of graves, going the long way around to be respectful and not cut across any of them. When she slows, her gaze bounces up to meet mine. “He’s just over here,” she murmurs before pointing to the familiar grave a few places down.

My gaze locks on to it, reading over the words on his tombstone.

In loving memory

Lincoln Alexander Ryan

05/31/2011–07/19/2021

Beloved son, brother & best friend

“Fucking hell,” I mutter, blowing out a shaky breath as I drag my hand down my face. Reading those words hurts so bad.

Unable to focus on the tombstone a second longer, I drop my gaze to the handful of things scattered at the bottom. There’s a plastic folder that’s almost overflowing with papers, and I can only assume they’re the letters Hazel writes to Linc. There’s a photo of the four of us—my family—Mom, Dad, me, and Linc. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that photo, but I remember the day it was taken. It feels like a lifetime ago. There’s a second frame holding the same photo that lingers on Linc’s desk in his room. Me, Zoey, Hazel, and Linc, only the words the four musketeers are etched into the frame, and it brings a smile to my lips.

Fresh flowers rest on his grave next to a football and his jersey from middle school with his name and number on the back—a jersey he earned during tryouts but never got the chance to use. Pride swirls through my chest. This is exactly how he would have wanted it.

“Who brought all this stuff?” I ask Zoey as she gazes down at Linc’s grave, a fondness shining in her tear-filled eyes.

“Everybody,” she tells me. “Your mom brings fresh flowers every week, and I’ve seen your dad here a few times. I’m not sure how often he comes by, but I’m pretty sure he was the one who left the football and jersey.”

“And the pictures?”

“Me and Hazel,” she tells me. “She wanted to leave the one of the four of us and wrote about us being the four musketeers, but I never really understood that. And I left your family photo because—”

She trails off, and I inch closer, tugging on her hand and pulling her into my side. “Because?” I prompt.

Her hand comes up, and she discreetly wipes her eyes. “Because I knew you weren’t visiting him, and I wanted Linc to remember how much you loved him, and if for some reason he wasn’t able to look over you, then he’d be able to remember your face here.”

My heart shatters, and I drop my lips to her temple, pressing a lingering kiss, not willing to pull away so soon. “God, Zo. I don’t deserve you.”

She lets out a breath and presses her hand to my chest, her chin tilting up to meet my stare. “Did you want to talk to him?”

“I . . .” I pause, caught off guard. “I don’t know what I would even say.”

“Just tell him about your life. How you’ve been doing, how much you miss him and wish he were here. Tell him about the guilt you’ve felt and the struggles you’ve had trying to navigate the darkness. Tell him you’re sorry that you haven’t been the man you wanted to be over the past three years. He’ll want to know that you’re trying to do better, and when in doubt, tell him about your shenanigans with Hazel or how football has been going.”

The pressure drops down on my shoulders, and the nerves become almost unbearable when Zoey steps out of my arms and walks right up to the edge of his grave. She bends down and grabs the plastic folder filled with Hazel’s letters before clutching it to her chest. “I’ll be over at the car,” she tells me. “Unless you want me to stay.”

I give it thought, warring back and forth with my options before giving a slight shake of my head. “I’ll be alright,” I tell her, needing to find the strength to face this, to be the brother Linc always thought I was.

Zoey gives me a small smile before slipping away, and before I know it, I’m down on the grass in front of his grave, my gaze locked on the inscription written on the granite tombstone. I sit for a few minutes, having no idea where to start, but the second I do, the words seem to flow.

“Shit, Linc. You’d be so fucking ashamed of me,” I tell him. “I think the day you died, I died right along with you. Only I was stuck here, living like a fucking ghost, barely going through the motions. I fucked up everything. Hurt everybody just to try and escape the guilt, but nothing ever helped. I miss you, bro. I fucking miss you so bad, it hurts. Every. Fucking. Day. I should never have told you to go home that day. If I knew . . . I never would—” I stop abruptly, unable to say the words out loud, not to him at least. “I should have been a better brother, Linc. All you ever did was want to spend time with me, and I was so fucking selfish. I should have given you the time you needed or threw the fucking ball with you more. I always told you that I’d teach you how to ride a dirt bike, and we never got to do that. There are so many things I never got to teach you, and I hate myself for letting you down like that.”

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