I almost began to see her as someone not just worth no longer destroying, but actively trying to get back. Not even my brothers visited Virgil’s grave that often; we all mourned his loss, and all of us thought of him at least once a day, but for many of us, revisiting his grave was just too fucking painful. That was true for me.
Sarah was not a Vale, but she had been the last one to see him alive. For her to go there, to visit his grave, and weep—not knowing I was watching her… there was a sincerity in her that was difficult to find from any perspective, never mind abillionaire who couldn’t trust other people. There was a raw, real love in that, even if it wasn’t the kind of lustful passion that had driven the last couple of months.
I didn’t know what to make of it, so much so that when she turned to see me, I was struck by a feeling I almost never got.
Uncertainty.
I didn’t know whether to speak to her. I didn’t know whether to let her be, to let her process her grief in silence. That’s what I ended up doing, yes, but it was more of a default state than a deliberate decision. Had I seen any one of my brothers, we would have talked. Had I seen an employee or an old friend of Virgil’s, I might have talked.
But because it was Sarah, I simply watched and let her go by, unsure of what to say. I even watched her walk back to her car; she never once turned around. She probably knew that I was watching, but I doubted she knew just how much her presence had moved me.
And it wasn’t even like I could turn on the cold businessman persona, because what was I going to do, be gruff to the tombstone of my youngest brother? What a fucking shitty thing to do. I would sooner surrender my business empire than forget the legacy of Virgil Vale.
Instead, once Sarah had fully disappeared, I went over to Virgil’s tombstone. I kneeled down, put a hand on his grave, and drew in a breath. I hadn’t cried since the very first news of his death—not even at his funeral—and today would not be the day that streak ended. But that did not mean that being here didn’t deeply move me.
“Hey, brother,” I said. “Been a bit, huh?”
I chuckled to myself. I didn’t believe in ghosts, and the idea of an afterlife was a question I didn’t want to think about too much. But I liked to think Virgil heard everything I said, even if he couldn’t speak back to me.
“Listen, your older brothers, they’ve gotten themselves into some shit,” I said. “Your oldest one keeps trying to stay distant from the real rough and tumble of life. He had thought that because he was so stupidly wealthy, he could buy distance. Turns out, that’s a fucking stupid idea.”
I snorted. I looked around quickly; there was still no one within probably several hundred yards of me.
“Your older brother,” I continued, “he wants the best things in life, but the best things in life aren’t things, they’re people. He tried to put distance between himself and one of the best people in his life. Then he wanted to close that distance. But sometimes, to move toward one attachment, you have to sever other, less meaningful ones. And your older brother was a fucking idiot who couldn’t let go of the idea of the Reapers.”
God, put that way—would I rather have Sarah or the Black Reapers?—it made me look even more pathetic. I would not let myself drown in misery, but I had to acknowledge I’d poured the pool of misery in the first place.
“So now he’s trying to do right,” I said. “I…”
I swallowed.
“I hope I’m doing right,” I said. “I’m ready to live as you did, Virgil. Full of laughter and cheer and fucking stupid jokes and love.”
I chuckled. Not loudly, not for long, but I did chuckle all the same.
“You told us all to wind down, to loosen up, to not be so cold when the world offered warmth. I don’t know what I’ll have to do to get that opportunity again, Virgil. But I guess being here makes me realize that if I should get another chance with Sarah—a third fucking chance, believe it or not—I can’t fuck it up. I can’t prioritize anything but my family. I can’t put money or power or strength above her. I have to have a place for her.”
A gentle breeze brushed over me. I was never one to believe in signs like this, as I said. But the breeze did provide a nice, relaxing feeling that made it easier to buy everything I had just told myself. My body could relax, which would allow my mind to relax, which would allow my spirit to relax.
Silly? Maybe. Did I believe it? Absolutely.
Then my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I wasn’t crass enough to answer it in front of Virgil’s grave, but after it rang three distinct times, it was a clear signal someone was trying to get my attention. And given everything going on in the last forty-eight hours, the possibilities were worth stepping back from.
I patted the top of the tombstone one more time, told Virgil, “I love you, brother,” and then walked away, swallowing away any emotion I was feeling. I looked down at my phone. It was…
Not Sarah.
Dante.
“What is it?” I said. I didn’t much care if my voice was curt and my tone even rude. I was off tilt, and my brothers should all be well used to that by now.
“I have more information about what’s going on with Sarah,” he said.
I stopped where I was. I probably hadn’t walked more than three steps away, but the world around me suddenly seemed to freeze and fall away. Dante had my full attention.
“Go on,” I said, a sense of dread washing over me.
