Taming Hollywood's Baddest Boy - Max Monroe Page 0,108

for the love of everything, what is going on?

Birdie: Oh man, I would love to keep chatting, but I have to go. I’ll call you later.

Me: BIRDIE.

Me: Seriously, Birdie?

On a sigh, I try to call her, but of course, it goes straight to voice mail.

What in the ever-loving hell was she just talking about?

After I try to call her three more times—all of them going straight to voice mail—I resign myself to really read her the riot act the next time I talk to her.

And then I take a deep breath, lock the front door behind me, and head out of the driveway and up the dirt road that leads to where my parents were laid to rest.

They say time heals all wounds, but even after all these years, when I step into the grass of the cemetery and head toward my parents’ gravestones, the wounds are still there. Deep and jagged scars, they might not be open and bleeding, but they’re still painful all the same.

“Hey, Momma. Hey, Daddy.”

I stare down at their gravestones and stifle a sob.

“I miss y’all something fierce. Every day. Every single day.”

No child should lose their parents at the age of nine. Neither my sister nor I were dealt the easiest hands when it came to our childhood. It was incredibly hard losing our parents at such a young age. There were so many milestones and life experiences and happy times and sad times we had to experience without them.

“Birdie says hi. I know she misses you too.”

I run my fingers across their gravestones and sit down.

“I’m still living in LA. Birdie is still in Nashville. She’s currently getting ready to go on a three-month tour, making a name for herself in the country music scene. God, you guys would be so proud of her.”

I run my fingers through the grass.

“And I saw you, Momma. I saw a video of you. Your one and only acting gig. God, you were so beautiful. So perfect.”

I sigh and stare down at the words etched on the gravestones.

“A man named Luca Weaver sent it to me,” I whisper and proceed to tell them all about the roller coaster ride that is Luca and me. I tell them about my trip to Alaska and how we started out hating each other, but somehow, along the way, it changed. I tell them I fell in love with him, but that he broke my heart. And I tell them how I thought I was going to lose my job, but he ended up coming to LA to do the movie.

I tell them how Luca’s been the past several weeks.

I tell them that he told me he loved me.

“I love him too, but I’m just scared.” I whisper the truth. “If he broke my heart again, I feel like I wouldn’t be able to survive it.”

I sigh and swipe at the tears falling down my cheeks.

“God, I think about you guys all the time. I wonder what it would be like if you were still here. Daddy, I hope we’d still listen to John Denver and Patsy Cline together in the evenings. Momma, I hope we’d still spend Sundays making biscuits and jam in Granny’s kitchen because she has the best stove.”

I sit there for a long while, flat on my back beside their gravestones. The sun hovers over my face and legs, and I just shut my eyes and soak in the warmth of this summer day.

I don’t know how much time has passed, but eventually, it’s time to go.

I’ve said everything I needed to say.

“Until next year,” I whisper and blow them both a kiss. “Love you.”

I place a gentle hand to each of their gravestones, silently tell them goodbye, and head back toward the dirt road home.

But I only make it halfway through the grass before I’m stopping again.

I’m not alone.

He’s here.

Luca, standing right there, at the edge of the grass, near what must be his rental car.

Luca is here. In West Virginia.

Thank everything.

I don’t think.

Instead, I just run.

But this time, I go in the right direction.

Luca

The only constant in life is change. Because if you’re not changing, you’re dying.

The instant she spots me standing here, not too far from where she sat for a long time, right beside her parents’ graves, she stops. Blinks several times.

My heart catches in my throat as I wait for her to react.

I even start to open my mouth to call out to her, but she surprises me. Between one breath and