She’s a nice girl and doesn’t need an asshole like me breaking her heart. After she sells the house, she’s leaving, and I won’t be too far behind. Yet, even knowing all that, a part of my brain registers that I don’t want—can’t—quit her.
Not good asshole. Not good at all.
After checking on the house, I drive slowly through the snow-dusted streets and go even slower when I see the land yacht parked outside the tall, wrought-iron gates of the cemetery.
I guess Kira decided today was the day to visit Gram’s resting place. My gut squeezes. This is going to be so fucking hard on her, yet it just might be what she needs to get the closure she’s been seeking.
I slow my truck to a snail’s pace and glance into the yard. I spot Kira on her knees, her entire body shaking as she prays over her grandparent’s burial spot. Fuck, man. Do I go in there, or do I leave her be? Which would she want more? I’m not sure, but I can’t just drive by, not when every instinct says she needs comfort.
I slam my vehicle into park, slide from the driver’s seat, and close my door quietly. I don’t want any sudden noises to startle her. Wet leaves squish beneath my boots, and I follow the winding path to Kira as she sobs quietly in front of a small tombstone.
The sound of my boots alerts her to my presence, and when she turns, her nose red, her eyes redder, my heart squeezes so hard, the world around me spins a little.
She reaches a hand out to me. “Nate,” she whispers, and I hurry to her.
“I’m here. I’ve got you,” I say and pull her to me. She presses a tissue to her face and leans her head on my shoulder. I just hold her, console her in silence the best way I know how. If she wants to talk, she’ll talk. If she doesn’t, we can sit here until nightfall, or for however long she wants, in silence. In typical Kira fashion that I’ve come to know and adore, she looks off in the distance, losing herself in her thoughts.
I glance up at the clear blue sky as a seagull squawks overhead, undoubtedly headed to the dock for its morning breakfast. A car honks in the distance, and bells jingle over the doors as shops open for the day. Kira’s breathing slows, becomes less erratic, and I hug her to me, offering to be her life vest in the storm.
After a long while, she whispers, “How did you know I was here?”
“I saw the land yacht.”
She chuckles slightly at that and grabs a new tissue from her coat pocket to wipe her red nose. Her head turns slightly, and those dark brown eyes meet mine. “Thank you, Nate,” she whispers, and I swallow against a tightening throat. I want to be here for her, and I want to be her rock in her time of need. I want to be everything she needs, but I can’t be that guy. Right?
“I wasn’t sure you’d want the company,” I say. “Grieving can be a private matter.”
She nods like she understands. Hell, I’ve been silently grieving the loss of my own mother, and to this day I have no closure. I honestly have no idea if she’s dead or alive, but I won’t go after her to find out. A cut that deep never heals properly, and I’m not interested in tearing it open again if she wants nothing to do with me. If only you could pick your family.
“Why now, Kira? Why today?”
“Today was Gram’s birthday.”
“Ah.” I glance at the headstone. “Happy birthday, Gram. I’m sorry I never got to meet you, but I kind of do feel like I know you through Kira and the crew.” I hug Kira tighter. “You did a good job with this one. Like you, she’s one of a kind.” I stop short of saying she’s a keeper because I don’t want her to get the wrong idea, even though it’s quite likely that I do want to keep her.