“I don’t like seeing you upset, but I wish someone had told me it was okay to cry.” He scooted closer. “It’s okay to cry, Sienna.”
Beau’s words opened the dam, and I couldn’t have stopped it even if I wanted to.
Crying won’t bring you back, I know that. I’ve always known that. But as tears flooded my face, I realized that what it does is make you feel real—something more than a memory. All this time, I’ve been so afraid of you becomingjustthat. But talking about everything I wished we could do together with Beau makes it seem like you’re still around and still a part of me.
And my tears? They came from my heart. Like all the wishes I’ll never have the chance to make with you by my side.
“We can do those things sometime,” Beau said. “You and me.”
I looked up at him through teary eyes. “Really?”
“Yeah. I’ll go to the beach, but I won’t eat Dole Whips. I hate pineapple.”
That made me laugh. “You can have a turkey leg,” I joked, but then I remembered. “You said wishes don’t really happen.”
Beau shrugged. “I know I said that. But then I gave it some thought. You coming back, maybe you changed my mind.” When he stopped talking and grew silent my heart began to pound. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
Beau finally reached out to wipe my cheeks. His hand was cool against my flaming skin, and I tried not to lean too hard against him.
“What?” I asked with a crackly voice.
He studied me for a minute, chewing on his lip. “Did you forget about me after you left?”
I wanted to tell him I did, but not in the way he might think. Because how could you forget the person who was the first thing you thought of when you woke up? How could you forget the last person you thought about before you went to sleep? Back then, it was about adventures, tricks, having fun. I’d lie on my pillow at night, reminding myself to tell Beau not to forget his net so we could catch toads in the creek, or to ask him to show me again how to tie a sailor’s knot.
When we moved, I cried the entire drive to Nashville. I didn’t care that I was leaving the only home I had ever known or the treehouse Dad had built for us. I cried because I was leaving my best friend. And it was you, Mom, who told me I’d see him again one day when the time was right.
And then you did what Moms do—you made the hurt less. You took us on adventures, hosted middle-of-the-day dance parties, said yes to ice cream sundaes for dinner. In some ways, Beau is doing for now what you did then.
So even though it’s wrong that you’re not here, there’s something right about it too.
“I didn’t forget. But I tried not to remember so much because it hurt a lot.” My answer was full of honesty, and I knew by the softness in Beau’s eyes he believed me.
“Do you want to know a secret?” he whispered.
We were facing each other, and because of the shadow the street lamp made on his face, I noticed how thick his eyelashes were. I nodded.
“On my eighth birthday,” Beau began, “I wished you would come back. Also for a new bike,” he added with a grin.
This secret made my stomach flutter, and I pressed my lips together to hide my smirk, but I clearly didn’t do that so well.
“What?”
“See? Maybe you were just wishing wrong is all. Stars are more powerful than candles.” I motioned up. “If you had made it here, maybe I would’ve come back sooner.”
Beau laughed. “Yeah, maybe. But it doesn’t matter now.”
We turned on our backs and his eyes focused on the sea of stars above us. Our arms were flush against each other, and his fingers fluttered next to mine, as if he were contemplating holding my hand. I didn’t mind that he didn’t actually do it, because what he said next filled the well I had drained by missing you with a quick flood ofhim.
“It was worth waiting anyway.”
Love,
Sienna
chapterthree
Sienna lefther room to make a cup of chamomile tea when she stopped at Grace’s door. “What are you doing with that?”