THE CRAZY GOOD SERIES - Rachel Robinson Page 0,111

lot of things if you’re reading this. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a rock-n-roll son, or a devious daughter with your beautiful face. I’ll never get to see you hold our baby, or listen to you sing sweet lullabies with that hot southern drawl. I’m just sorry I went and got myself killed. I died doing what I love. I can say without a doubt that I died with pride filling my body. But my heart? That’s always only yours. Just yours. Nothing holds me like you do.

Wear the tight blue dress to the funeral. Don’t let them play bad music either. Pour Some Sugar on Me has to be included in the play list. I won’t be satisfied unless my mother is mortified. Keep your head up and tits out. Live on, baby. This isn’t goodbye—It’s see you later.

Forever, crazy, endless love,

Stone

Morganna is crying, somewhere in between happy and completely destroyed. Before I lose my nerve, I unfold the second letter and pull Morganna into the crook of my arm.

Mavvy, Brother, Thomas twin:

We are seven years old standing on the roof of my parent’s house. We have my mother’s best bath towels wrapped around our fucking necks. Side by side, our arms wrapped around each other’s backs. We counted to three and jumped from a second story roof. That should have been the first sign we were fucking crazy. We thought we could fly that day. I broke my right arm and you broke your left arm. We didn’t let go of each other even when we hit the damn ground. We never let go. Our parents were so pissed. How many planes have we jumped out of since then (successfully)? At least 500? We never leave each other behind. You’re reading this, so I must have left you. It’s obviously against my will because I’d never leave you without a fight.

Life is short, man. It’s too fucking short. Let go of all the hate. Reach out to your parents. They won’t turn you away…I know it. How? I talk to them, bro. They care about you. Give them a chance to know the real you. The man who is strong, wise, and capable of anything he sets his mind to. The man who was my friend before I even knew what a friend was. You are the man who gave my life purpose with one sentence, “Let’s be Navy SEALs.” Thank you, Mav. Thank you.

Don’t turn to the bottle, dude. I know that’s exactly what you’ll want to do. It may even be the first thing you think about after you finish reading this. I’m not at the bottom of a bottle. You are so much better than that. You never really needed me to keep you in line. You wanted to be in line. Give yourself more credit. And if you can’t, I’m gonna sick Morganna on you. (Hear that, Morg?) I guess I can finally admit that I’ve always been jealous of you. You’re a better fucking shot, your vagina dick is tighter, and those fucking dimples? You bitch. It feels so fucking weird saying goodbye to you. It’s like saying goodbye to myself.

You’re good, Mavvy. You’re good. I love you, brother. You’re the left to my right. Take care of Morganna. Don’t let her swim in the shark tank for too long. And for God’s sake—get the fucking girl. Tighten your fuckin’ towel, Bro.

If you fly, I fly

Stone

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Windsor

Present Day

I HAVE HAD the dream too many times to count. The elaborate church is filled with people all wearing black in some form or another. I’m in the middle of the aisle walking toward the front, kind of like what happens during a wedding. Except it’s a black veil that hides my face, and no one turns to look as I pass by the pews. Their eyes remain forward, staring, weeping…trying to come to terms with their grief. I walk the long length alone, my gaze trained on the dark wooden coffin highlighted by a single spotlight. White flowers surround it like they’re trying to hide the ugly truth. During the dream my chest hurts and my breathing never comes easy. Though I’m crying, my face is never tearstained. My high heels echo on the hard floor, the only noise other than the wails of anguish that break out every couple seconds.

I never understand the magnitude of my loss until I reach the coffin. I fall to my knees and that’s when the tears come,