Page 23 of Fractured

Still, I was on my way to meet Ambrose in the park, and this cemetery was a short detour. There was also another driving force that made me want to stop by. I’d never had the desire before today, but I wanted to see Eli’s grave.

The only reason I knew his grave was here was because I’d seen Mrs. Daniels leaving one day. It was a possibility that the grave she’d come to visit wasn’t his, but she had been sobbing and rocking in front of a smaller headstone.

It was Eli’s. Only a mother’s love could drive a strong woman like Mrs. Daniels to break down in view of anyone passing by. I’d watched her for what seemed like forever that day.

With nothing else to do here, I stood and meandered my way through the graves, letting my fingers drift over the top of the stones as I passed. It seemed like a nice thing to do, as if I could remember them by touching their gravestone, especially when so many were forgotten.

The time I’d seen Mrs. Daniels here, she was in the back corner by a large weeping willow tree. Somehow it was fitting, like even the tree grieved for a little boy who’d died too early, all because of an insane woman too proud to take her medication.

It wasn’t hard to find his grave at all. His stone was smaller than the others, and as I approached the back of the grave, I noticed a pair of angel wings etched into the stone with such detail, I felt like I could reach out and touch the soft edges of each feather. On the front, a quote from a poem was scrawled across the top in fine cursive print. Crouching down, I traced each letter.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not here, I did not die.

Underneath it, his name was listed with his birth and death. He’d been seven years old. I knew that, but looking at how short a time his years had spanned hurt deep in my chest.

Okay, I knew when it was time to go. No sense in torturing myself for something I couldn’t change. Standing, I took a few steps back, right into someone else.

“Easy,” came the powerful voice that had haunted my nightmares this week. At least I thought they were nightmares, but sometimes I’d practice my cello and relive the dream as if I was watching a movie reel.

Pivoting on my heel, I took two steps to the side to get out of this man’s arms.

Drake Daniels.

And here I was, intruding on his family’s privacy.

I felt ashamed and dirty. Not worthy to be at Eli’s grave. He narrowed his eyes as I kept taking steps backward. If I could just make it a few more steps, I’d turn around and sprint back to my car.

Drake was probably an upstanding citizen, even though he looked like aSons of Anarchyextra. There was nothing about this man, other than his aggressiveness at my house, that made me believe anything negative about him. But he triggered too much for me.

My heart beat so hard, he could probably see it above the dip of my tank top. I glanced down, and there was the softbum-bumcoming through my skin for all to see.

“Why are you here?” His gruff voice cracked on the end as he looked between me and the grave.

“My dad’s buried here, and I thought—I don’t know what I thought.” I swiped a hand over my loose hair. “I was just leaving.”

I spun around and rushed toward the entrance, hoping against hope he wasn’t following.

It was a pointless hope, because he caught my arm and turned me to face him. There was no more air left in my lungs, and it was as if I’d forgotten how to breathe.

“Why were you there? Why were you at his grave specifically?” His eyes were wild and bloodshot, his hair tangled, and his red T-shirt was wrinkled as if he’d worn it for days. The last few days had not been kind to him. And I couldn’t find it in myself to be kind either.

“I’m sorry. I have to go.” I jerked free and ran back to the car.

I waited until I was in the driver’s seat with the door locked before I frantically searched the cemetery to see if he’d followed me.

He hadn’t. Drake stood in the same spot between two headstones that were so old, they were washed out and spotted from prolonged exposure to the elements. His arms hung loose by his sides as he seemed to be staring right at me. I had no idea what he was thinking, and I couldn’t afford to ponder on it, afraid of what it would do to my psyche.

I started the car and reversed out of the parking lot faster than I should have, but I was coming out of my skin. A few miles of distance between us would help.

The remainder of the drive was fast. Too fast. I almost didn’t remember it, too caught up in myself. Hopefully, when I saw Ambrose, I would be able to calm down, because right now, with my bloodless lips and shaking hands, he’d know instantly something was wrong.

And unless I wanted to explain the mess of how my brain worked, I’d have to lie to him.

I’d blasted the air conditioning the entire way, so when I stepped out of the car, the heat wave rolling through blasted me in the face. My jean shorts rubbed uncomfortably between my thighs as I jogged across the street, carrying my phone, keys, and water bottle in one hand and a beach towel in the other.

Slowing down to a walk once I was inside the park, I followed the path back to the same tree I chose the week before. This time, I was more prepared, spreading out the towel before lying down to wait for Ambrose. I had raced here, afraid I’d be late, but I actually ended up being a few minutes early. Which was good, since being late always stressed me out. But at least that type of stress was normal, everyday stress.

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