When Darkness Ends (Moments in Boston #3) - Marni Mann Page 0,100

okay.”

Since I’d gotten out of the hospital, we’d only stayed within the city. A long drive told me we could be leaving Massachusetts.

I thought of tomorrow’s schedule. “I do have that meetup with Kerry and David at five. They’re coming here, and we’re ordering pizza.”

Every two weeks, I met with the others. We talked about our progress and failures. We encouraged each other and helped in ways that no one else could. While the both of them were also finding their footing in this world, we shared similar struggles. As heartbreaking as that was, it was also comforting.

“You’ll be back in plenty of time,” he promised.

“Then, let’s do it.”

He smiled, the blue of his eyes even sparkling. “You’re sure?”

I nodded. “Should I go shower?”

“Yes, and then we’ll leave after we’ve had some breakfast.”

My lips tugged into a grin. “I’m looking forward to it.”

I grabbed some coffee and brought the mug into the shower. I quickly washed my hair and body before I climbed out and wrapped myself in a fluffy towel.

Five and a half months, and I still appreciated the scent of soap on my skin. The feel of hair that had been shampooed and conditioned. Water that came out of a spout, hard like raindrops, washing the night away.

I had a small section in Ashe’s closet, where I’d hung the clothes he had purchased for me. Jeans and sweaters, tank tops and shorts. Sneakers and shoes sat on the floor below.

Every time I tried to thank him for everything he did, he would say he wasn’t doing enough. He was the most giving man, all the way down to his core. One day, I would make him understand what this all meant to me. He would see my appreciation rather than just hear it.

Until that day, all I had were my words.

When I finished getting dressed and came out of his room, I heard him in the shower, so I went into the kitchen and started on breakfast. I cracked several eggs right onto the pan and mixed them while they cooked. I added a second pan for the bacon and popped some bread into the toaster. I was plating it all when he walked in.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said.

Even though we used the same products in the shower, the scents were so different on him, especially when he put on his cologne. My eyes closed, and I briefly took in the aromas, smells I had memorized long, long ago, but they didn’t compare to the real thing.

“Hush,” I said, my lids opening again. “I wanted to.”

I set the plates on the counter, refilled our cups, and took the stool next to his.

“Man,” he groaned. “You used to make the meanest breakfast in college, and it’s even better now.” He spooned in several bites. “These eggs are delicious.”

I remembered the meals I used to cook for him and Dylan, and the darkness started to encroach into the edges of my mind. The sadness that I constantly tried to push away.

“I wish we could eat like that again—I mean, the three of us.”

He glanced up from his plate, chewing a piece of bacon. “You have no idea how badly I wish for that.”

“Even if it was for a short time, at one point, both of us were gone.” I felt a tightening in my throat, an almost choking inside my chest. “The pain you must have felt—I can’t even go there.”

“No, Pearl …” He set down his fork. “I lost all three of you.”

Gran.

I didn’t know what their relationship had looked like after I was gone, but I had a feeling there had been one. I wasn’t ready to hear about her yet. I couldn’t even handle talking about her passing—that needed strength that I still didn’t have. But once I was ready, I knew Ashe would give me those answers.

“How are you still holding it together?”

“You.” His hands dropped, and I reached for one, holding it while he said, “You think I pulled you out of the darkness. But, Pearl, you pulled me out too.”

I squeezed his fingers, staring at them, his always so warm and kind. “Can I hug you?”

He nodded. “Hurry.”

I knew that feeling well, and I got off my stool and fell into his open arms, holding him as close as I could. I couldn’t take it away. I couldn’t even make my own pain leave. But I could sympathize, and I could make him a promise. “I’m back,” I said into his