“I put you to bed, went back to my room, but it turned out we had adjoining rooms. You came in looking for the bathroom, so I helped you back to bed, but then you asked me to stay.”
She gasps. “Did we have sex?”
“What?” It’s my turn to be shocked. “Of course not. I’d never do that. We just cuddled and went to sleep. In fact, with you is the only time I do sleep.”
She says nothing, making me nervous as I quickly glance over at her, trying to gauge her feelings.
“I thought I could smell you.” The words are wistful and far away. “I thought you had embedded yourself in my skin somehow. I felt so foolish. All morning, I had my nose tucked into the neckof my jumper, trying to smell you on me. It was the only thing helping to keep the nausea at bay.”
My heart settles, and I relax back in my seat. “Thank fuck. I could smell you on me for the rest of that day. I didn’t even want to shower.” I bite my lip, then sheepishly add, “I liked having your perfume around me.”
“I’ve had a crush on you ever since that weekend,” she says.
“Me?”
“Yes,” she says with a laugh.
“You should know, when we fell asleep on the plane, we ended up cuddling again, and Beth got it on camera.”
Isabelle shrieks, “I knew she was suspicious.”
“Of us sleeping together?”
“I don’t know, but I’m certain she at least suspects we both like each other.”
“I do like you,” I tell her as we pull through the cemetery gates. Normally, this place has me feeling weighed down with chains, but having Isabelle here, talking to her, they don’t feel quite as heavy.
“I like you too.”
I stop my ute on the side of the road closest to August, and quickly hop out of the car to get to Isabelle’s door. She’s already jumping down from the cab when I get there.
“Hey.” I cage her against the door. “Next time, let me get the door, okay?” I tuck her curls behind her ear, loving the feel of them over my fingers.
“You planning on getting my door often?” she sasses, resting her hands against my chest. Can she feel how fast and hard my heart is beating against her palms?
“If you’ll let me.”
She nods, and I pick up her hands, kiss her fingers, then guide us over to where August rests. Jesus, it’s like I can’t stop touching her now that she’s letting me.
I drop down to the grass, and she follows.
“August was my first real friend. My brothers are my best friends, but in school, other kids either didn’t like me because they assumed I was some stuck-up rich kid, or they were trying to get something out of me. It was hard to determine who was a real friend, so I stopped trying. He was the first person to start calling me Gage. I walked into the library at lunch and sat down. A few minutes later, he dropped into the chair opposite me and said, ‘Dude, you good?’”
I chuckle. “I guess I’ve always come across as a bit of a grump.”
Isabelle squeezes my bicep, looking up at me with a sweet smile, giving me the strength to continue.
“I gave him a nod and nothing else, so he started telling me about the book he was reading, and took up the whole lunch time. When the bell rang, he said, ‘I’m August Benedict Carlisle, the third.’ I thought it was a bit weird, but I copied him and said, ‘I’m Henry Gage Heart.’ And he was my best friend ever since.”
My fingers run over the lines of the rose tattoo on top of my hand as my eyes flick up to where his name is etched into the stone.
“I’ve been going to therapy since it happened. Trying all sorts of things to move past my guilt. Volunteering. Helping keep people safe. Keeping myself busy and in control has helped. But I guess I don’t really smile and count myself lucky that I’m still here like I should.” I run a hand down my face, blowing out a frustrated breath. “It’s just that every time I do, I feel guilty that I’m here and August isn’t.”
“But it was an accident. It could have happened to anyone.” Isabelle’s words are full of fight and determination.
My eyes well up as the words slam into me. “I know. I do. I’ve heard it so many different ways over the years, and little by little, the words become more true. But it’s always felt like the last hurdle—I keep trying to get over, but I stumble right at the finish line.”
“Just because he’s not here doesn’t mean you can’t remember him with happiness.”
