Page 46 of Ward Willing
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Except, as I take a step back, I can only move an inch or two. There are numerous bodies behind me, crowding Zoe and me to the point of her hair getting caught in my heavy breaths. I’m no longer aroused. Now all I feel is the urge to getout.
Zoe starts to dance, and the panic inside of me riots violently. I draw a few shallow breaths as I attempt to calm myself. The lights dance around the stage, and it smells like cheap beer and sweat already, and the desire to get out of herewashes over me again. This song cuts like a knife through my chest, and all I can think of is Elias.
The last time I saw him was a few days before he and Brooke went on their fatal hike.
We’d spent a few days fixing up one of my cars because he’d had some time off from the law firm he worked at. We laughed and reminisced, but we also talked about the future. He mentioned one of his partners being recently single, and he’d wanted to set me up with her.
We’d talked about Brooke, who was the love of his life. She was in the middle of working on an extremely hard case as his partner in his law firm.
And Zoe, of course. Elias loved her so goddamn much.
The weather had been hot and unnaturally humid for California, and we’d taken turns jumping into the river, which ran through the back of my property.
The same river that eventually killed them a few miles away only four days later.
I close my eyes to ward off the torrent of emotions flowing through me.
I fucking miss him, and being here, listening to this music, with hisdaughter…
Zoe twists around so she’s facing me, and it’s like a vacuum sucks up all of the anxiety and grief in an instant. All I can focus on is her bright smile, her exuberant expression, her dimples, the way her eyes are shining with mirth.
It’s like she’s the antithesis to all of my problems.
Her energy washes over me, calming my racing heart and wrapping around the gaping hole her father used to occupy.
All the years with him by my side. Camping and going to shows and fixing up cars.
Being there when he found out Brooke was pregnant while we were sophomores in college. I didn’t know her well at the time, but she soon became a close friend, too.
Watching him become the best father I knew—watching thembothgo to law school with a toddler…
Having Zoeherewith me is healing, somehow, even though my best friend is gone.
As my pulse slows slightly and the music blends into the next one—“I Miss You”by Blink-182—a lump forms in my throat.
The music gears up, and my eyes sting with the weight of everything.
But then Zoe places both of her hands against my chest, and we sway to the music.
She doesn’t have to say anything; I know we both feel her father here with us right now.
A few people sing along to the lyrics, but my eyes don’t leave Zoe’s.
Not when her eyes get glassy, or when a tear falls down her right cheek.
Not when my chest aches so much that I have to close my eyes.
Not when someone bumps into us, but I stand steady and reach up to grab her hands so she doesn’t fall.
I don’t let go, either.
Because we’re not alone.
Not if we’re together.
The song changes, and it snaps us out of our trance. I take a half step back from Zoe, and she does the same, until she’s pressed against the stage facing me. I open my mouth, but someone shoves me forward, and the only thing I can do to keep from hurting Zoe is brace my hands on the stage behind her, so I’m caging her in with my arms.
