Page 58 of Petals and Strings
Caspian glanced up right as a tear leaked free. My fingers itched to swipe it away but neither of us moved.
“Audrey.” My name was said in such a distant whisper that I wasn’t sure if he was truly with me now.
“Caspian. Fight the fog,” I told him, finally giving in and resting my hand on his arm. We were crouched down by the lilies together. He blinked at me, then my hand, and back to the flowers.
“My daughter was named after my wife’s favorite flower,” he whispered. His voice was so fucking broken I knew he was drowning in this grief and memories again.
“It’s a beautiful flower.” My response seemed to catch him off guard. His golden honey eyes blinked up at me as if truly seeing me now.
“She was beautiful,” he said with a reverence that spoke of the sheer volume of love he had for this sweet little girl.
Was.
God, this poor man.
“I lost them both at the same time. I… I wasn’t enough to protect them. The gunshots were coming from both sides…”
He crumbled then, falling forward and I had to dive to catch him, holding him close to me as he wept for the family so ruthlessly stolen from him.
“That isn’t your fault. It was the fault of the people who held those guns,” I said vehemently. “They would never blame you for this. They’d want you to live, to find yourself again, wouldn’t they?”
He didn’t say anything as he gave into his grief, his scent of sage, honey, and cedar lingered in my lungs. The sharp edges to it spoke of desperation and pain, the need for a reprieve from it all.
I shifted us so we were more comfortable, holding each other as tight as we could on the edge of the lilies.
When his tears slowed, he seemed to come into himself again, startling at our intimate embrace.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, looking horrified.
“Don’t be,” I argued. “It’s okay to depend on others, to share in your pain. Otherwise, how are you supposed to bear it?”
“I don’t,” he admitted, tracing the delicate edges of the pink and white petals. “When I relive those moments, they’re still so alive to me. If I admit to myself that memories are all they are, it feels like they’ll fade.”
“Love like that doesn’t just disappear, Caspian,” I promised gently. “You should try writing your memories down. Maybe it will make you feel like you can experience them, but not get lost in them. Something you can reread when you need to feel them.”
“Tatum would hand me my ass for this,” he admitted with a wet laugh, swiping at a fresh wave of tears. “She was gorgeous, but it was really her sharp tongue that pulled me in. Cute, but deadly is what I always said when she unleashed that temper. She gave all that sass to Lilly, too.”
I chuckled. “That’s something I can appreciate in a person. The world would be so boring if we were all quiet and compliant.”
“She said the same,” he said, offering me a rare smile, one that wasn’t so full of sadness it made you want to cry.
“Why don’t you call your sister? I remember you mentioning that she called last time you had a good day. Maybe she’d be happy to hear from you,” I encouraged.
He took a deep, shaky breath, but nodded. “You know what, maybe I should. Thanks, Audrey.”
His honey eyes locked onto mine, saying everything he couldn’t quite put into words.
Thanks for this. For holding me and hearing me. For being there without making me feel worse.
It was all the things I wished I could say to them, too.
I nodded once, before he finally looked away, standing and walking away to, hopefully, find something in this life to cling to and stay present for.
Val rounded the corner, giving me a wink. “That was mighty kind of you. This place needed a soul like yours around. Don’t let it change you.”
“I’m trying not to,” I promised him. The last thing I wanted to do was let Dr. Malik and his strange medications change what I’d found of myself.
“I was sent to find you. There’s a new therapist for your group here. Group therapy at two. You’ve got eight minutes.”
