I close my eyes slowly, taking a long, deliberate inhale, and on the exhale, I murmur, “God… if we must.”
His small chuckle warms me, a gentle friction against the tension still coiled in my chest.
“Peach, we could live on this boat after today… If you want.”
My eyes widen at the weight of his words.
“Hell, yes,” I whisper, “away from the world… from all the over-dramatic noise of it.”
“If that’s what you want, Peach,” he says softly, “that is what we will do.”
I hold his gaze, a small edge of sadness threading through my voice as I say, “Promise me.”
“I promise.”
The words are soft, almost fragile, but in that single breath, they hold everything. And it feels like choosing sunlight over shadow.
Dane stays close, one hand resting on my back, guiding me as I step onto the dock, moving with the careful reverence of someone carrying the most precious thing he’s ever known.
Peter waited with a warm smile, hands clasped behind his back.
“Peter,” Dane said, “we need to stop at the florist before heading to Penn’s.”
“For Miss Penn,” Peter nodded, “and for little Gracie.”
My breath hitched.
Dane’s eyes flicked to me instantly. Reading me. Checking me. Anchoring me.
“If that’s okay,” he murmured softly.
I nodded. My voice wouldn’t work.
The florist was quiet, full of warm colours and petals. Peter returned with two bouquets, one for me, bright and soft, one for my daughter’s grave, white and pink.
Dane placed both gently in my lap.
The drive home was peaceful. Warm sun. Soft music. Dane’s thigh brushing mine. Peter humming off-key in a way that comforted me irrationally.
When my house came into view, my home, my memories, my ghosts, something inside me settled and trembled at the same time.
Dane reached over and squeezed my hand once, quietly.
Peter parked beneath the shade of the big macrocarpa, the gravel crunching softly as the engine quieted. My home looked different stepping out with Dane behind me, smaller, softer, older. Like a memory wrapped in real life.
I held the flowers for Gracie close to my chest as the warm wind swept across the yard. The scent of cut grass from somewhere far off tugged a thread inside my heart.
Dane stepped up beside me.
“You ready?” he asked quietly.
No.
Always.
Never.
“Yes,” I said anyway.
