Page 170 of Past the Broken Bridges

Wetting my lips, I stare into the night. It’s not a conversation I’ve had with anybody and definitely not one I planned on having with her little brother. “I loved who she was as a person. I loved a lot of things about her. I could have…” I clear my throat. “If things were different, I could have.”

“And do you love who Dixie is as a person?”

The question raises my brows.

“I like her,” he says, shrugging.

Me too.“Dixie…” Dixie got me through a tough time. We mourned together. Grieved together. Slowly tried healing together. She became one of my closest allies, and for that I’ll forever be grateful. “Dixie has been a good friend to me.”

She grounded me when I needed it most, no matter how much I fought her. Helped me make this memorial come to life. I’ll be grateful for her for life.

“Nobody can compare to Sawyer,” I tell him, if that’s why he’s asking. “I think we love people in different ways based on how they fit into our lives. As friends. As family. Sometimes as more.”

Contemplation has him nodding along slowly. “I guess so.”

One day, I think he’ll understand.

Hell, maybe one day I will.

I think about Dixie, who was going to meet up with a group of friends she met at the music store she works at part-time when she’s here in the summers. Between hertravel schedule for the mini tour she’s been doing at concert halls with her family and the help she’s given me to make today possible, she’s busier than normal.

And I…I miss her. Watching TV is boring without her commentary. Music doesn’t interest me the same way when she’s not here giving me her explanation of the beat changes and what she thinks the lyrics mean. Her friendship fills the hole in my heart that’s been there since Sawyer passed.

I knew being apart was bound to happen eventually, especially since I accepted a job in New York working for an architectural firm. I start in two weeks, move into my small, overpriced studio apartment next week, and bring Louisiana to a close once and for all.

You could leave here,Sawyer told me.

I knew I couldn’t until I finished this.

But now that it’s done…

It’s time for me to start a new chapter instead of rereading the last one.

Bentley sighs. “Today meant a lot to my parents. They needed this. Thank you for making it happen.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

He lifts his shoulders and stands. “It made them happy to be part of something that involved her again. I miss them being that way.”

I watch him quietly as his eyes move over the bridge, then to the tree covered in memorial gifts, and then back down to the Pop-Tarts.

Before we can say anything else, a bright-red bird lands on the tree branch directly in front of Bentley and squawks once. Its head tilts as it studies the teenager before making another noise.

“I called her Birdie,” I note, staring at the bird watchinghim just as intently as he is watching it.

The bird turns to me, squawking again.

A case of déjà vu hits me. “That’s a cardinal.”

Bentley doesn’t look away from it.

The bird flies over, landing on his shoulder and squawking once more, as if trying to talk to him. Then it flies over to me, and I swear it rubs its head against my jaw once.

“Birdie,” I whisper.

It spreads its wings and does a loop around us before landing on the railing of the bridge.

“You don’t really think…?” Bentley’s voice fades, shaking his head in disbelief.

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