Page 195 of Catch the Sun

“Promise me,” I finish with a small cry. “Promise me you’ll do that.”

Jonah stares at me for another harrowing second before inhaling a breath and swiping a hand down his face, erasing the evidence of his pain, of the awful pain that he set in motion with the pull of a trigger. He stares, blinks, and his lips part but no words push through them.

All he does is nod.

One nod.

One final promise.

“Thank you,” I rasp, nodding back at him, cupping a hand around my mouth to hold in my heartache. “Thank you, Jonah.”

Before I inch the chair back to leave, his departing words finally trickle out, landing in my ears and puncturing my heart.

“How lucky I am,” he chokes out, throat rolling with sorrow. “To have something that makes saying goodbye so damn hard.”

I glance at him one more time. One last look at my big brother.

Then I pull my eyes from his, stand from the chair, and run from the room.

Goodbye, Pooh Bear.

***

Instead of lighting candles or filling vases with sand, we toss sticks over a bridge.The branches slip from our fingers before we race to the other side of the rail, and I hold up the hem of my orange dress—the same one I snagged off a thriftstore rack and wore to the Fall Fling. Max is beside me, his hand in mine, and together we lean over the railing and watch both sticks glide down the stream and appear below us.

Neck and neck.

Side by side.

As always, mine takes the lead and inches ahead by a centimeter.

A smile blooms as I celebrate my victory and Max gifts me with a teasing glare. “One day the universe will take pity on you,” I tease.

“Maybe this is just the universe’s way of trying to even things out,” he replies.

“How so?”

Before we turn back around to face our friends and family, Max bends to whisper something in my ear. “You win every round of Pooh sticks,” he murmurs. “But I win you.”

The late-June breeze rolls off the water and my hair takes flight, right along with my heart.

Chevy has his hands folded in front of him as he waits for us to reapproach, prepared to officially give us the title of husband and wife. Max always said Chevy was a jack of all trades, and he wasn’t wrong. The guy does everything. He dabbles in dog training and runs a kennel out of his house, plays the harmonica like a seasoned blues musician in a smoke-laden jazz club, and on clear nights, he sets up a telescope in his backyard and invites us over for stargazing underneath a milky moon.

When Max asked him to marry us on this old Michigan bridge we’ve come to love just as much as our Tennessee bridge, Chevy wasted no time in getting ordained.

Max twines our fingers together and leads me back toward Chevy as we finish the simple vow ceremony, sealing every perfect promise with a kiss under the summer sun. I laugh when he dips me, almost dropping me, my hands clinging to his father’s hand-me-down suit as my hair spills down my back and my bouquet of vibrant orange roses lifts toward the sky.

Everyone cheers.

“Woo!” Brynn lights up from behind us, her flower bouquet also heaving skyward, the pink petals matching her bubble-gum lipstick. “You did it!”

Matty and Pete have their arms around each other, Matty’s head on Pete’s shoulder as he dabs a handkerchief to his eyes.

“Hell, yes!” Natine shouts, fist-pumping the air, her giant gold earrings catching on a sunbeam. “That’s my girl!”

Max hauls me back up and plants a sweet kiss on my forehead.

The moment I leave my husband’s arms, I run into my mother’s. Mom lets go of Ricardo’s hand and wraps me in a warm, hard-earned hug, her face falling to the curve of my neck. Tears wet my eyes as her familiar gardenia scent washes over me and fills me with nostalgia-spun memories.

---