Page 128 of One More Heartbeat
I take another long breath, relieved the ground doesn’t drop away from under my feet, and reopen my eyes. “I found out today one of my Marine brothers, a close friend, recently died. During a bomb attack in Syria.”
“I’m so sorry, Garrett.” Compassion, not pity, shines back at me from her beautiful chocolate-brown eyes, further grounding me.
“The funeral is next Tuesday. In Fort McClellan. Alabama,” I ramble on, unsure how to respond. Too many people I know have been dying lately. People whose lives have been prematurely cut short.
“Are you going?”
“I am.” I owe it to Tyson. He saved my life more times than I care to remember.
“Then I’ll come with you.” Zara says, with the same fierce certainty she had when she stood up to my elementary-school bully without a second thought.
“You don’t have to do that. You’re busy with the renovation and the grand reopening.”
She strokes my hand. “You’re right. I don’t. But I want to.” Her eyes brim with understanding, as well as another emotion I don’t bother to examine too closely. Possibly…love? No, it can’t be that.
Going to Tyson’s funeral will be tough for many reasons. Cooper, Clarke, Tyson, and I were a tight-knit group, but I couldn’t even go to Cooper’s and Clarke’s funerals—something I’ll forever regret. I had beenin the hospital at the time, recovering from the explosion that stole them from me.
“Thank you,” I whisper to Zara. “I would like it if you came to his funeral with me.”
For the briefest of seconds, denial lets me have a taste of another set of words—words about how I really feel about my best friend.Shit, I think I’m falling for you, Zara.
The words are quickly locked away, the box tossed into the deepest lake. And once they’re gone, the only taste left in my mouth is the sour mix of fear and grief, regret and relief.
Fear I’ll fail her like I failed Cooper and Clarke. Like I fear at some point I’ll fail my daughter.
Relief Zara isn’t falling for me—because it would only be messy and complicated if she did.
And more complications are the last thing either of us needs.
46
ZARA
My phone ringsfrom the kitchen counter. I snatch up the phone in time to see it’s my cousin, Serena, calling. “Hey. How’s New Orleans doing?” I grab the duster from under the sink.
“It misses your fine ass. How’s Maple Ridge?”
“It missesyourfine ass.” I kneel in front of the middle shelving unit in the living room and stare at the empty spot next to the wooden elephant. The spot where a framed photo of Garrett and Kenda and me—taken during college—usually stands.
The photo also isn’t on any of the other lower shelves.
“And how’s Garrett doing?”
I can’t see Serena, but I can tell she’s grinning at the phone. She has known about my secret, not-so-secret crush on my best friend longer than Emily and Simone have. “He’s doing good. How’s the guy you recently started seeing?”
I drop to my stomach and look underneath the shelving unit as Serena animatedly talks about him. Dust bunnies have formed a committee under the shelves, but there’s no sign of my photo.
Peony was here yesterday. Maybe she picked it up and moved it somewhere else.
I check under the couch and the armchairs and the coffee table, but the photo isn’t under any of them. Where the heck did it go?
Three daysafter I spoke to my cousin on the phone, I’m standing in the newly expanded Picnic & Treats, doing a mental happy dance. It’s Saturday—and the grand reopening of the café. Lauren McNair’s powerful voice fills the space as she sings one of her popular songs. A song about girl power and how supporting each other will make the world a better place.
Six little kids, including Peony, are dancing to the music in front of the small stage set up for Lauren. Athena is standing to the side, dancing with Peony. Both look carefree, big silly grins on their faces.
I record a short video to share with Garrett once he gets back from his Wilderness Warriors weekend excursion. I wish he was here to celebrate with me, but at least Peony and Athena showed up.
“The turnout for the event is crazy.” The equivalent of a huge smile is in Abby’s tone.
