Easton:Hi guys, it’s Maya. Thank you for the food and sweet messages. You didn’t have to do any of that. Good luck this week!
Noah:Anything for our fans. But seriously, I’m sorry to hear about your Grandpa.
Elijah:You’re in our thoughts.
Cameron:Happy to help however we can. Let me know if there’s anything else we’re able to do for your family.
Theo:Really sorry for you and your family. I let Lainey know and she’s going to see if she can come visit you.
Madden:Sorry for your loss.
“Set it on the stove, Easton. I’ll heat it up now,” Mom directs. “When it’s ready, I’ll call you in.”
He does as she asks, then we go upstairs. He sets his bag down and rummages through it.
“This time I can stay longer. I also got this from Reagan when I went by your place to return her car keys. She said she’d pack more if you need it.”
He pulls out some of my clothes, my laptop and phone charger, then some envelopes. One of them has Hana and Reagan’s handwriting, and the other has beautiful flowers illustrated all over it.
I’m touched when I open it to find it’s a handmade card from Corinne. It saysthinking of you, remember even after the heaviest rainfall flowers will bloom.
“I ran into her when I went to your apartment. When she found out what happened, she drew this in like ten minutes.”
“Wow.” I trace the drawings.
The card from Hana and Reagan is just as kind, wishing me well and letting me know to take my time. Hana says she’ll cover my shifts at work for as long as I need her to, and Reagan promises to get me anything I need.
Easton loops his arms around me. I sigh in relief, basking in the masculine scent I now associate with everything good in my life.
“Is this you and him?”
I turn to the wall of photos. He’s pointing at one where I’m around twelve. Grandpa’s mounted on the horse next to mine, mid-laugh and waving at the camera.
“Yeah. He taught me to ride. I loved when we took the horses out on the trails.”
It aches to look at, though my lips still twitch into a soft smile. I touch the edge of the frame, wishing more than anything I could relive this moment of pure joy.
A weak laugh leaves me. “He kicked up the biggest fuss because I wanted to do the harder trail that cut through the woods. I got my way, but he wouldn’t let me hear the end of it because my horse spooked when we got to jumping a small stream and I ended up falling in. I was soaked and I lost one of my boots.” I swipe at my eyes. “He fished me out and held me the whole ride back on his horse while I cried about how sorry I was for getting him wet.”
His arms cinch tighter. “It’s nice you got to grow up so close with him. You’ll always be able to look back on the special relationship you two had.”
Memories are all I’ll have left. It’s such a strange thing to get used to.
I can’t go see my grandfather or hug him or tell him about what’s going on with me anymore.
“Come eat,” Mom calls from downstairs.
“Come on. Food will help.” Easton laces our fingers together.
When we climb into bed at the end of the night, it’s the first thing to feel right. I didn’t realize how much I’ve grown used to sleeping with him until last night. I woke up twice after he left, unable to drift off as easily as I did when he waited for me to fall asleep. This time I’m able to get a better night’s rest.
On Tuesday, I block Easton from getting in his car when he’s getting ready to leave for tonight’s practice again after arriving at lunchtime. I’m thankful he’s driven the entire way back and forth from Heston Lake every spare second he can to be with me while I’m home, calling me before and after practices when he can’t.
He’s done more than enough to be there for me while I grieve.
“I wish I could stay longer, too.” He steps into me. “I told the coaches I’d make this work.”
“You’re being crazy going back and forth like this every day.” My fingers tangle in his hoodie as his fresh, comforting scent encompasses me.
