“How?”
“Because it was for you.” The confession is quiet, stark. “I wanted you to have what you wanted.”
“So give her this,” I say, my voice dropping. “Stop being the guy who just holds the door open. Walk through it with her.”
He’s silent for so long, I think I’ve overstepped. Then he lets out a slow breath, his shoulders dropping an inch. “What if I ruin everything?”
“What if you don’t?”
He finally looks at me, his defenses thinning. “You’re not scared?”
“I’m terrified.” I let out a shaky breath. “But I’m more scared of watching you two orbit each other forever, never touching.”
He closes the small distance between us, his hand coming up to cradle the side of my face. His thumb strokes my cheekbone. “When did you get so brave?”
“I’m not.” I lean into his touch. “I’m just in love with two idiots.”
The admission, quiet as it is, seems to echo in the silent kitchen. He doesn’t flinch. He just rests his forehead against mine, his breath warm on my skin.
“Me too,” he whispers, the words a fractured confession.“Me too.”
SEVEN
VINCE
Calling our destination a cemetery is pushing it. It’s not zoned for remains. It’s not listed on any maps. It’s probably—definitely—illegal, but that’s what makes it perfect. It’s private, it’s personal, and now it’s all mine.
"Why didn’t you tell us we came to the cabin to bury your aunt’s ashes?" Kat asks, her voice soft and careful.
I hold her hand as she steps over the uneven ground. The sun has already risen, but the trees cast heavy shadows over the forest floor.
“I didn’t want it to feel like a week-long wake,” I say, my fingers tightening around the small, wooden box clutched to my chest. “I wanted it to feel like a send-off. Like a goodbye party, not a funeral.”
Inheriting this land from my Aunt Mabel came with a list of responsibilities for maintaining the cabin and the few acres it sits on. One of those responsibilities, as unusual as it may be, is becoming the sexton to my family's final resting place and burying my aunt’s ashes in the quiet corner of the woods where the trees grow thick, and the narrow dirt trail is lined with wildflowers.
Growing up, I never understood why this became a tradition. I had always joked about how morbid it was to have an unsanctioned cemetery in our backyard, but now I understandwhy she left it to me. This land is sacred. It's where my family's roots run deepest, where the earth holds our stories, and where I feel closest to the people who shaped me into the man I am today.
It’s quiet. Peaceful. The kind of place where secrets feel safe.
“I want to be mad at you, but this is exactly how she would have wanted it,” Ollie says, waking beside me. Solid. Like she knows I need her to be. “I can’t believe I could have missed this.”
I glance over at her, at the way her shoulder brushes mine with every step, grounding me in the moment. In life. In everything.
“You were never going to miss this,” I tell her, remembering how my heart ached in her kitchen the other day. She was heartbroken and hurting as I was waiting for my relationship with Kat to implode, as I prepared to drag Ollie out of her house, kicking and screaming.
I didn’t want to choose, and for the first time in my life, my partner didn’t make me. At a time when I was starting to think it was an impossibility, Kat chose both of us, and I’ve never felt more alive.
I squeeze Kat’s hand, and she looks up at me, her smile warm and understanding.
“Having both of you here means everything to me. So…thank you,” I say, my voice thickening.
The weight of the moment threatens to press down on me, but at the same time Kat kisses the back of my hand, Ollie bumps into my shoulder.
The two of them, the way they move together without thinking, like they’re two halves of the same whole, and I’m the lucky bastard who gets to stand in the middle.
The tightness in my chest grows as I see the simple stone markers come into view, moss creeping up their edges.
I set my bag down and kneel at the first pile of stone, running my hand over the rock firmly placed on top.Etched into its surface is the name, Helen. My grandmother.
