Page 87 of Love Me Fearless

The early afternoon sun seems to be touching everything with gold, giving the lush, green grass and the giant, leafy trees a vivid sharpness, like the colors are alive. Or maybe it’s a startling contrast given my location. When I park, the soft chatter of birds adds to the peaceful ambiance.

As I step from my car, the scent of earth and grass and something faintly sweet, like lilac hits my senses. Though the sun feels warm and I’ve thrown on a sweater over my work clothes, I can’t help the shiver that travels over my skin. I lift the bouquet from the seat and lock my car, then cross the paved road to the headstones and grave markers spaced in neat rows. Beneath my feet the grass is soft, almost squishy, making me regret not bringing my boots.

This makes me think of Hutch, and these past few weeks of working side by side in the barn or the pasture, the laugher and teasing and stolen kisses that have led to the most passionate moments of my life. And the looming heartbreak waiting for me on the other side when it ends.

Even with my friends Sofie and Kirilee to lift me up, how will I ever move past losing him?

Marin’s grave is located on the other side of a giant sequoia, the earth freshly shifted to make way for the casket now six feet underground.

The headstone is an ornately carved stone cross with her full name,Marin Grace Lambert, her short life span, and the simple phrase:

Taken too soon

A breeze shifts the branches of the sequoia, sending a few needles drifting down. The grounds here are immaculate. On my drive in, I passed two separate groundskeepers, busy with their rakes and tools.

Marin’s grave is heaped with flower bouquets like mine and potted violets and miniature lilies, candles, a few stuffed animals, and hand-written messages and several picture frames. One must be Marin and her younger brother that I remember from that afternoon at Wolf Creek—they have the same eyes. Another shows Marin and friends at what looks like a Finn River High School Falcons football game, all of them decked out in face and body paint and hamming it up for the camera. It’s a reminder of how young Marin was. How much of her life she had yet to live.

There’s also a large picture of her and Troy set at the base of the cross. They’re huddled close, his arm around her. Behind them, a bonfire lights up the faces of their friends. The two of them look happy, their smiles easy and full. Like they belong together. My heart twists inside my chest. How could someone do this?

Though I know Zach, Everett, and the rest of their team are following every lead to put Marin’s killer behind bars, the wound created by her murder will never truly heal. Her parents and brother and friends must feel so lost right now. As I place my roses, I spend a moment to send her family healing thoughts, and to remember Marin as the sweet girl I knew.

I stand and give the grounds one final pass, soaking in the tranquility laden with a grief I can’t shake. Leaving flowers seems futile, but I feel a little better for it. Turning away, I walk slowly back to my car, my thoughts adrift, like those pine needles on the breeze. How is Marin’s family coping? What about her friends? The image of her and Troy together tumbles end over end in my mind.

Taken too soon.

I think about the remains Hutch found in that mine shaft. What is happening to my town?

I’m halfway across the road when I notice something out of place on my car’s windshield. My senses snap to attention.

With my chest tightening, I force my feet to keep going, but I don’t get very far.

I stare at the white rose tucked under my windshield wiper.

Someone’s playing a trick, right?

Or maybe it’s someone from the grounds crew?

Without moving my head, I glance left, right. Who did this?

My breaths quicken and a cold buzzing rises through me, fast and inescapable. There’s a part of my brain screaming at me to keep walking, but I’m frozen in the road while my legs wobble and a cloud of terror wraps me in its fist. The feeling fizzles up my body. I close my eyes to block everything out but the sense of blackness swallowing me whole only gets worse.

I need to take deep breaths but the panic has a lock on my lungs.

What is happening to me? With shaking fingers, I try to find my keys, but it’s like my purse is a black hole. My fingers land on my phone. I snatch it, and in the process, drop my purse. I start to sob because this is all wrong and I’m scared.

Breathe, Ava!

Hot tears blur my eyes as I try to focus on the screen. I skim past Sofie’s number—I can’t stand the thought of disrupting her time with Curren at the park—and land on Hutch’s number. Just imagining his voice eases the darkness squeezing me tight, allowing me to get a full breath.

But in calling him, am I walking through yet another door I won’t be able to close?

He picks up on the second ring. “I was just thinking about you.”

I start to cry harder. I want him to scoop me up and hold me and never let go.

“Ava? What’s wrong?”

“I…don’t know,” I manage, my voice high and shaky. “Someone…” The panic starts to rise again, so I force out the rest, “put a rose on my car.”

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