Page 65 of Never Left You

I pretty much wiped that day—and many that followed—from my memory.

The day of his funeral, I watched as Rhett, Wyatt, Lachlan and three others carried the coffin from the building to the car. And then I left. No one even knew I was there. I didn’t even cry. I wouldn’t let myself. I was so mad that he was gone. I was so mad that Carolyn didn’t care. I was so mad that I missed so much trying to fix something broken. I was so mad at everything, and there was nothing I could do to change it. He was gone…and that was that.

The moment I drove away, Carolyn in the passenger seat scrolling on her phone, not saying a word, I knew my life wouldn’t be the same.

Now here I was, heading to the cemetery with Abi, Stetson and my racing thoughts. On the one hand, I was honored she asked me to come. On the other, I was terrified. I hadn’t let myself think of this.

Abi was riding Luna with ease. Her hold on the reins was loose, as if Luna knew exactly where she was going. Stetson would kick Marshmallow into a trot, then slow him back to a walk when he went too fast, his back going stiff as if the memory of his fall took him over. The two of them led the way, each moving at their own pace. But I kept back, moving Nova softly through the flat terrain.

I watched them, my heart fighting to feel the warmth that was growing.

I wanted to be here with them. I wanted this moment.

But…

I didn’t belong here.

Watching the two of them only reminded me of the way I failed them. I had left, unable to handle the fact that my best friend was dead. I left Abi sitting on that hospital chair, all alone after I told her he was gone. I got in my car and tried to break the anger that had taken over.

I wasn’t there for Abi.

I wasn’t there for Lachlan, or Rhett…the entire Hartwell family…

I wasn’t there for Stetson…

I never got to say goodbye to any of them.

I failed them. In so many ways. And I never got to talk to Abi about it.

I was going to be coming face to face with the man I considered a best friend, and then what? Would I stand there and just stare? Would I ask for a private moment? Talk to him? How dumb would it be to talk to a piece of stone? I could technically talk to Sylas anywhere—he would hear, right? That’s what people say? But I never did. So why would I start now and have that moment of weakness when the people who I loved needed me to be strong. Pushing down every single emotion that was running through my veins, I straightened my back, donning the mask I always wore. Abi wouldn’t see me break today.

Stetson kicked Marshmallow into a gallop, bursting ahead of us as the cemetery came into view. Abi slowed Luna and looked over her shoulder, her eyes hidden by the shadow of her hat.

“We come here every year.” She said it loud enough for me to hear. I nudged Nova, coming right up to Abi’s side.

The shadow faded and I saw the emotion in her eyes. She swallowed. “We each take turns talking to Sylas, basically letting him know what’s been happening. Stetson talks a lot, just a warning.” Through the sadness, she smiled.

“And you?” I choked out.

“Everything we say is private.” Abi broke eye contact. “I never ask Stetson what he said, and he never asks me. It’s our moment with Sylas…you know. Sometimes Stetson gets animated, and he talks a little louder than he means to, so mainly he talks about Marsh and the ranch. Sylas knows all about Kyla.” She gave a small chuckle. “And me, well…” she took a deep breath. “I just like to be with him.”

“Do you talk?”

She nodded. “Sometimes.”

“Mom!” Stetson screamed, waving his hands in the air. He was already off Marshmallow, the horse tied to a nearby tree. “Can I go?”

“Yeah, we’ll be right there,” Abi shouted back.

Stetson didn’t even wait; the kid took off running, and Abi and I fell back into silence. Together, we dismounted and tied Luna and Nova up to separate trees, then began the walk to Stetson. He was already sitting on the ground, his hat on the top of the stone. With my eyes trained on him, I didn’t notice Abi until I felt her fingers against mine. Her palm slid in my hand as if it was something she did every day, a natural feeling of the two of us coming together. We walked in sync as I squeezed her hand. And she squeezed back.

Abi stopped me to give Stetson his time, and her body came close to mine. Her opposite hand found my forearm as she drew me close to her, the warmth of her body colliding with the frozen chill that circulated through me. She rested her head on my shoulder, just like the other night at the stables, and we waited. We stood, watching Stetson as he spoke, laughter and shouts coming from him. Abi would let out soft laughs, but her head never left my shoulder. Her warmth never left my body.

Finally, Stetson stood and ran back to us. Abi lifted her head, and didn’t let go of my arm.

“That was a lot to catch up on.” He smiled.

“I bet,” Abi said softly.

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