“Nice,” I murmur.
A few minutes later, he tosses the damp napkin and swipes hair from my face. My lips wobble, not quite forming a smile.
Determined to be useful in some way, I pin him against the counter when he tries to leave the bathroom. He dutifully lets medo what I can to clean the makeup stains off his shirt. I’m not sure if I’ve made it better or worse.
“Should’ve worn a black one instead of white,” he says with a snort. “It’s fine. This jacket’s a little tight, but I think I can get it buttoned if you want.”
I shake my head. We linger in the bathroom for another moment, but I can’t hide out forever. Eventually, we make our way back out.
After the viewing, most of my extended family and close friends move to a pub Grandpa liked to celebrate his life. More memories of times we spent here flood me while they laugh and toast to Grandpa, telling stories about the good times and the bad.
My aunts help put Dad in better spirits until he’s the one telling most of the stories. They laugh and cry, their tears tinged with fond happiness and love for the man who was the pillar of our entire family.
Easton chuckles at the funny ones, keeping an arm wrapped around me. My heart might be crushed right now, but I’m so glad to have him here with me. I rest my head against him, shaking it when he tries to get me to eat something.
“I just need you,” I whisper.
“You’ve got me. Here, at least nibble on the bread. It’ll help your stomach settle.”
It takes me all night, but I get down small bites.
He’s right. The food does help.
It’s hours after dark by the time we get back to my family’s house from the pub. Easton follows me upstairs and sits me on the bed, removing my heels to rub my tired feet. I drop my head back with a grateful sigh.
“You’re the best.”
The corner of his mouth kicks up. “That’s always what I strive for. Tell me what else you need right now.”
I bite my lip as I think it over. “A walk.”
His handsome warm blue eyes crinkle while he starts humming the tune for the chorus of I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) by The Proclaimers. My tall, muscled hockey player boyfriend kneels at my feet, humming a song to tell me he’d go anywhere for me—withme.
The cracks of my grieving broken heart fuse together as it swells in my chest with a tender glow. Even though this is all so hard, I know I’ll be okay because I have him there to catch me whenever I fall. And I want to be that same comfort for him, too.
For the first time in the last few long, draining days, a genuine smile breaks free.
“There’s my girl,” Easton murmurs.
I bite my lip. “Are you sure? I could go by myself. You’re probably exhausted. You need to sleep since you have to get up early.”
His fingers loop around my ankles, gliding up my calves. “What did I say about you going out alone?”
I hunch forward to hug him, not needing to repeat his promise when he first found out I like to walk at night to calm my anxiety. “Okay. I don’t think I need a long one.”
“Change while I run to the car to get my bag. I picked up more of your stuff from Reagan before today’s practice. I’m pretty sure she packed your running shoes.”
Once I throw on comfortable clothes to walk in, I stand at the wall of photos. Even though Easton won’t be with me when we bury Grandpa I think I’ll be okay. His advice from earlier when he wiped off my makeup has stuck with me all night.
I don’t know that I’ll ever fully be ready to say goodbye to Grandpa, but I can allow myself to feel whatever I need to.
THIRTY-FOUR
MAYA
Eastonand the guys make it through playoffs. I watch every game from home, sticking around to help my parents with whatever they need after the funeral. Dad joins me whenever I turn the games on because he needs a distraction.
On Sunday Heston is up against Penn State in the quarterfinal. Whoever wins will advance to the championships.
