Page 159 of Catch the Sun

1. Strategy? Still formulating, but persistence is key. I’ll get back to you on that.

2. Once I figure it out, I’m never going to let it go. I’ll bask in that glow, let it warm me, fill me up, and hell, I’ll even let it burn me. A small price to pay for eternal sunshine.

3. You’re my perpetual horizon, Sunny. I’ll never stop chasing your light.

This wasn’t the structured list you anticipated. My muse feels distant. But then, so do you.

Come back to me.

—Max

I collapsed in the grass with the note pressed to my chest, my tears spilling out and dampening the paper.

Now it’s folded up, resting underneath the white stone, right beside the potted crayon. It’s all I have left of him right now: his beautiful words, a precious stone, and a little terra-cotta pot.

I glance up at the two Fisher men, the mood heavy and tense. The nice thing about the Fisher family is that tense moments never last long, always severed by a joke, a silly dance move, music, or words of love.

“Can I give you a bit of advice?” Matty asks, setting down his fork and folding his arms as he presses forward on the table.

“It’ll be bog-standard at best,” Pete adds with a smirk.

“You’re a hog,” Matty snaps.

“Bog, dear husband. I saidbog.”

“Nobody knows what that means. What does that even mean?” His eyes pan around the table, but we all shrug.

Screw the advice. I’m already smiling.

“Anyway,” Matty continues, glaring kindly at his husband before swiveling back to me. “My bog-riddled advice is this: love comes first.”

I blink at him, the words settling in my heart.

“Whenever this bonehead pisses me off, I repeat that, over and over.”

“Thanks,” Pete grumbles.

He grins. “But in all seriousness, Ella-Bella—remember that.Love comes first. You’re grieving because love happened. You’re bleeding because love sank its nasty, beautiful claws in you. You’re crying because love filled you up and now it has nowhere to go.” A solemn quiet washes over the table as he looks me in the eyes and his smile softens. “Love always hurts, honey. That’s the price we pay to experience it. Sometimes that hurt is on a smaller scale, and sometimes it’s big enough to move mountains. Either way, it hurts. You have to think of it as a cruel gift. Nothing good in life is ever free. There are always sacrifices and tough blows. And even if we never fully recover from those blows, we can appreciate the love while it was still sweet and untainted. After all, it was there first. It’s the conduit for every raw, passionate, ugly heartache we experience in this life.”

I don’t even notice that Brynn’s hand is linked with mine under the table, our fingers entwined, our palms gripping hard. I glance at her and see that she’s crying. Silent tears stream down her face.

And I realize…I am, too.

I nod as I force a broken smile, sniffling, my lips trembling.

I think back to a summer afternoon on a swing set. The clouds looked like spools of cotton candy. A funny-looking caterpillar awaited transformation into a glorious butterfly. Sunshine beat down like a warm hug.

And at the center of it all, there was a boy.

A boy with dimples, with affection in his cloudless blue eyes and an orange flower tucked inside his hand.

“It’s bright like the sun. And the sun is bright like you.”

Yes.

Love came first.

Young, sweet, beautiful love.

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