Page 140 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

“Easy for you to say,” I scoff.

“It’s not, actually. I know what it feels like to love someone so hard and then hate them for hurtin’ you.” Her hand comes up to rub at her chest. “But the thing is, Eli, it’s easier to be angry than it is to forgive, because the anger gives you comfort. There’s no risk. It might feel like crap, but at least you know what to expect when it hits.”

“And what about forgiveness?” I ask.

“Forgiveness is…” She sighs. “Forgiveness is hard. Lettin’ someone back in is harder. It’s like takin’ a leap of faith while bein’ afraid of the heights.”

My throat swells, the scar tissue forming the wall around my heart tearing at her words.

“Do you still love her?” She cocks her head.

My chest squeezes as I nod. “I think I’ll always love her.”

“Well, you’ll do what you want. I won’t push.” Lee’s eyes grow sad, a dark hue swirling through the icy blue. “I just hope you don’t look back in five years and regret not takin’ the leap. Especially if she’s your happy place.”

She drops the subject, but her words slide through the cracks of my heart, making it beat a different rhythm.

Normally Lee would be with me at Ma’s grave. I’ve started visiting every Sunday with her, but she’s in Nashville with Chase, so today I’m here alone.

My mind whirls the same way it has ever since my talk with Lee about what makes me happy.

I spent so much time after Becca left, blaming her for the hollowness that raged inside me. But she’s not responsible for my emptiness, just as she’s not responsible for my happiness. It’s unfair to put your emotional well-being on someone else’s shoulders, and I’ve spent the majority of my life doing just that.

Becca didn’t cure me when she showed up in my life. She was the bandage to my loneliness, and once she was gone it ripped the scab, making me bleed all over again, only this time it was worse because I knew what it felt like to love her and then lose her. So I channeled everything into my hurt, instead of working on healing the wounds that existed before her.

And then I used Sarah, hoping that appeasing Ma with a marriage after death would fill something within myself, some twisted sense of obligation for all the ways I didn’t show up when she was still alive, not considering that all she ever wanted was my happiness.

There’s no recovering from her death, no making up for the things I wish I had done differently. But Lee’s right, you can either stay still, living in the mistakes, or you can take the leap and hope like hell you make it to the other side.

There’s a sound behind me, like paper crinkling, and I spin toward the noise. As if I manifested her from my thoughts, Becca stands there with a bouquet of flowers clenched between her fingers.

My stomach flips, the way it always does when she’s near.

“Hi,” she breathes.

“Hi. What are you doing here?” I ask.

She lifts the bouquet and nods toward Ma’s headstone. “Lee asked me to come by and drop these off since she couldn’t make it.” Her head tilts. “Surprised to see you here, though. She made it sound like no one else could do it.”

I chuckle. Of course she did. “She knew I would be here. I’ve been coming here with her the past few Sundays.”

“Oh. That’s good. She said y’all were gettin’ along better.”

“Yeah.”

She bobs her head, her gaze darting around the cemetery.

There are so many things on the tip of my tongue, but somehow, I still don’t know what to say. So I’m silent—stuck in place—staring at her like a moron, the air spreading thin from the energy crackling between us.

She smiles softly and walks past me, her sweet scent floating on the breeze, making my nostrils flare when it hits.

Crouching down, she unwraps the bouquet, adding them to the flowers I already brought. Her hand reaches out and rests on top of Ma’s name, her head bowing.

I stand back and watch her, emotion swelling in my chest at the sight of her having a moment with Ma. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget how close they were. That she was affected by the loss too.

It isn’t until she rises back up a few minutes later that I see the wetness on her cheeks. My heart thrums in my ears, my fists clenching to stop myself from reaching out to comfort her.

“So.” She swipes a curl from her forehead. “How ya been?”

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