Page 12 of Dirty Eoin

They say life goes on. It’s not really living, though, is it? It’s existing. Those of us left behind are the walking dead.

How can it go on without him? Without my best friend. Without my everything rolled into one. Without the other half of my childhood memories.

I wasn’t with him at the end.

Treat every day like it’s a gift because it is indeed the present. Why didn’t I? I took it for granted, that’s why, and foolishly thought we had a whole plethora of tomorrows.

I appreciate that death comes to us all, and that for some, the grim reaper comes calling sooner than for others, but the chance to say goodbye was stolen from me, and that’s what’s unforgivable. It’s also what’s eating me alive. I can’t even put into words how devastating that is.

I know his last thoughts were of me, and I wasn’t there for him. With him.

All I can do is whisper in the breeze all the things I never got the chance to say in the hope that, wherever he is, it carries my words to him. I repeat them.

Second after second. Minute after minute. Hour after hour. Day after day.

But what if it doesn’t?

What if he never knows how much I miss him? How much I love him. Or how much I wish it had been me and not him.

I try to swallow the lump that forms in my throat every time. In truth, it never really disappears. It stays there, a permanent reminder of everything that will forever remain unsaid between us.

I breathe out, and the sound is shaky with emotion. Then I inhale the petrichor and wildflower air of Rising deep into my lungs. Like Ace did that one final time.

He loved this town. He didn’t need anything else.

Just Rising. Me. Our boys.

Our baby son is fatherless, his daddy gone. How is that fair on Ace or JJ? A little boy who’ll never know his daddy. All he’ll ever have is some snapshots captured over the years, and for everything else, he’ll have to rely on the memories of others.

I wish I’d taken more pictures with Ace. Made more memories. Laughed with him more. Talked with him more. Spent more time with him.

Skimmed more stones with him.

I loved every single layer of Jason Steele’s beautiful soul.

“You mind if I sit here, Jainie?”

I glance up at my father-in-law and shoot him a watery smile as I shake my head. I can’t speak. He knows it’s too difficult for me to find the words at times, and even when I do, I struggle to say them aloud.

To speak, you have to be able to breathe. And I can’t always do that. Not when a sea of relentless, all-encompassing grief tries to hold me under its unforgiving surface and drown me most days.

Duke sits cross-legged beside me, looking like an older version of Ace. The only difference is he’s clean-shaven and keeps his hair short, the black long since peppered with grey.

“He had a good turnout.”

I nod as I take in the uninterrupted views over Rising. Ace’s send-off was bikers only. Despite protestations, none of the other factions were invited or allowed to attend. There were still hundreds who stopped by to pay their last respects to the prez of the Angels of Hellfire, many having ridden their hogs for days to say farewell to the man who touched their lives in some way.

There’s a pause as Duke thinks about how best to phrase whatever he needs to get off his chest.

“It’s time for you to return to Manhattan, Jainie.”

“And why is that?”

Is he going to admit something that I’ve suspected for a while now?

“Because that’s what Ace would have wanted.”

“I know what Ace wanted.”

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