Page 47 of Somehow You Knew

My heart starts beating wildly, but I do want to see what she captured. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

She rearranges herself on the couch, scooting next to me and clicking through a few files on her computer before opening a folder that contains hundreds of pictures of my aunt, her dog, and Hazel.

Fuck. They really were close.

“I love this one,” Hazel says, pointing to a shot of Blueberry staring up at my aunt, a big, toothy smile on his face as his tongue hangs out the side of his mouth.

As if sensing that we are talking about him, Blueberry sighs from his bed in the corner of the living room.

“Yeah, that’s a good shot.”

“This one’s great too.” Hazel clicks through to a photo of my aunt in her motorized scooter, her eyes closed as the wind whips through her hair. Her oxygen line hangs off her face, but I barely notice it because she looks so enraptured by the feel of the breeze on her skin.

“She looks so frail in this one.” I point to another picture on the screen. Hazel opens it with a click, and my chest tightens. My aunt is sleeping in her recliner, Blueberry curled up in her lap. She looks smaller compared to the other pictures Hazel and I just looked at.

“That was a few weeks before she died,” Hazel explains, emotion thick in her voice.

Before I lose it in front of her or smash my soda bottle against the wall, I stand from the couch and drain the rest of the bottle, heading into the kitchen for another.

Just then, the doorbell rings.

Saved by the fucking bell. A trip down memory lane, complete with the guilt that comes with it is not how I wanted to spend my evening after a long day.

It’s something I don’t want to deal with at all, if I’m being honest.

I hear the front door opening and closing, but Hazel doesn’t say anything when she steps into the kitchen a few moments later.

She doesn’t have to—because she’s holding a pink envelope in her hands.

“Shit,” I mutter.

“I was wondering when this was going to come,” she says.

“Did you happen to see who dropped it off?”

She shakes her head. “Nope. Whoever was tasked with this is stealthy, that’s for sure.”

“Fuck.” I push a hand through my hair and then pop the cap on my new soda. “Part of me wants to know what’s inside, and part of me doesn’t. Can’t we just ignore it and wait until the end of the six months to do everything?”

“I don’t know, but I don’twantto do that. I’m sure there’s a reason Diane wanted these delivered at a certain time, you know?”

I glance back at the computer where my aunt’s face is still on the screen. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she knew we were talking about her and that’s why this letter arrived right now. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Hazel holds the envelope out to me. “Do you want to open it this time?”

“I really don’t fucking care, Hazel.”

Her brows draw together. “No need to get testy. I was just offering…”

“I’m nottesty,” I counter—a tad too defensively.

She rolls her eyes as she slides her finger under the seal and pulls out a piece of notebook paper with my aunt’s handwriting on it. The sting of her loss radiates through me once more, and I wonder if that will ever diminish.

I peer over Hazel’s shoulder as we both begin to read.

Gage and Hazel,

I hope wedded bliss has been treating you well. If you’re reading this, then you’re coming up on your one-month anniversary! Congrats!

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