I don’t know how to live without that fear yet. I don’t know if I ever will.
But I do know this… she hasn’t asked me to stop loving you. She’s never once made me feel like my grief is something that needs to be hidden or fixed.
She just stands beside me, holding my hand and helping me navigate it. Andsomehow, that support makes it easier to breathe.
I hope you know this doesn’t mean I’m leaving you behind, because I’m carrying you forward into a new life that issowelcoming of you.
I miss you every day.
And that will never change.
Love Always,
Easton
Dawn breaks, slow and golden, over the ranch, the air still cool from the night. Teagan sits next to me on the bunkhouse steps, her shoulder pressed lightly into mine, as we share coffee in silence. My hand rests on my thigh, absent and familiar, a stolen moment of intimacy while we are alone.
She glances up at me, her mouth curving into a soft smile. Returning her smile, I exhale, “We need to tell them.
Her smile doesn’t disappear, but it softens into something more thoughtful. She lowers her gaze to her coffee, watching the steam curl into the morning air. “I know.” She sighs after a moment.
I shift slightly, my shoulder brushing hers more firmly. “I don’t want them finding out by accident,” I continue. “Or worse… feeling like we’ve hidden it.”
Her fingers tighten faintly around the mug. “I’m not ashamed,” she shares quickly, shaking her head before looking up to meet my stare. “Of you. Or ofus.”
“I know you’re not.”
“I don’t want to keep you a secret.” She nudges her shoulder into mine gently. “But… I like this. Just us. Before everyone else gets involved.”
I understand exactly what she means.
Right now, it’s ours. Untouched. Unjudged. Not shaped by opinions, expectations, or questions about what comes next. No one judging me or looking at her like she’s making a mistake.
“They’ll see it,” she says. “Eventually.”
“See what?”
Her lips curve again, softer this time. “That you care about me.”
“They will,” I agree
She sighs slowly, leaning her head briefly against my shoulder before straightening, her expression turning wry. “Dad’s gonna be airin’ his lungs about this…”
My whole body tenses when she says it. My visceral reaction has nothing to do with her dad, or how this might upset him, but entirely about the words she said.
Grief doesn’t knock. It doesn’t warn you that it’s coming. It doesn’t give you time to brace yourself or soften the fall. It waits until you’ve forgotten how sharp it is, until you’ve grown used to the weight of something else, and then it finds you in the smallest, most ordinary of moments.
Suddenly, I’m somewhere else.
Airin’ his lungs…
Rosie used to say that phrase all the time. The memory hits so hard, it knocks the breath from my lungs.
My vision blurs, and the pasture fades away as my hand squeezes around my cup of coffee so tightly, I think it might shatter. I close my eyes, and as clear as day, I see Rosie, standing in our kitchen. Sunlight pours through the window behind her, making her look as radiant as ever.
“Easton.” Teagan’s voice snaps the world back into place too quickly, and my chest aches at the sudden loss. I look down at my hands to find they’re both shaking. After abruptly setting my cup beside me, I shake them out before balling them into fists to stop the trembling. I push up from my seat and take a few brisk steps away from the porch.
“Easton,” she calls after me again gently, her tone laced with concern.
