Page 156 of Sincerely, Your Enemy

Vera gives TJ a big hug and makes him promise to come over for dinner before we separate, and all I can think about as we’re walking to TJ’s car is how soon is too soon to ask him to tell me everything.

You’d think I just said that out loud from the way he puts me out of my misery once we get in the car.

“You must have a thousand questions.”

I let out a nervous chuckle. “More like a million.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not up for it. I’m just grateful you trusted me enough to take me with you today.”

“No. I want to answer your questions. If we’re going to have any chance at saving this relationship, I need to let you in. Completely.”

I’m impressed by his maturity. Scratch that—I’mamazed.

“Are you sure?”

He nods, a small smile dancing on his lips. “I need to show you something first. Then I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

Lacey

Acemetery.

He took me to a cemetery.

If you’d told me when TJ said he wanted to show me something that this is where we’d end up, I would’ve called you crazy.

As if this day hadn’t been gloomy enough.

TJ drove for what felt like an eternity after leaving Graceview’s Care Center, and, in spite of my many attempts at getting some answers, he wouldn’t tell me anything.

We’ve been making our way through this cemetery for a few minutes, headstones marking our every step. Is this the part where he reveals to me that he actuallydidthis to his mother and I’m next?

Okay, that’s it. No more true crime documentaries before bed.

I let out a nervous chuckle. “Just a heads-up, if you don’t tell me where we’re going very soon, I might start wondering if you’re a serial killer.”

TJ laughs and reaches for my hand, interlocking our fingers to comfort me. “We’re going to the memorial tree planting near the mausoleum. Feel better?”

I consider rejecting his touch, but this place is way too creepy for me to give him the cold shoulder.

Wait, did he say memorial tree planting?

Aren’t those memorials for people who chose to have their ashes combined with tree soil?

“Why?” I ask as we enter a different section of the cemetery. This one is full of family tombs and fancier, larger headstones.

TJ brushes his thumb against the inside of my palm. “You just met my mother. Only fitting that you meet my father, too.”

My stomach sinks like a rock.

He’s taking me to his biological father’s grave.

Or should I say his father’s tree?

A few minutes elapse before TJ stops near the entrance of a gated area with a sign that readsAs trees endure for eternity, so will your memory.

Rows of trees stand before us, each planted at different times to honor different people who all had vastly different lives and stories. This is fascinating.

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