Aberlour had to look at her then, to make sure he heard her correctly.
“I was, but I’m not anymore,” she said with an earnest sincerity that made him believe her.
“You should be. You have the right to be. I should have—”
She didn’t let him finish.
“I was mad, for a long a time. At the funeral I couldn’t look at either of you. Didn’t seem fair,” she said with a shrug, and Aberlour understood because he agreed—because he felt the same—because if he could, he’d take JD’s place in a heartbeat.
“I was mad, and then I was sad, and then I just—” she shrugged, and for a minute Aberlour saw the young girl in the bar again. Fun-loving, carefree, and looking for a good time. The same girl who enjoyed life so thoroughly that she’d fallen for JD, out of all of them.
“He loved you. Both of you. Darling and Dumber, right? That’s what they used to say. Mom and Pop. I can’t imagine—” she stopped. There was emotion in her voice now, raw and unrestrained, traveling through her like an old friend rather than an unwelcomed foe.
It was—beautiful.
She glanced at him for a moment, as if wondering whether she should continue. Whatever she read in his expression made her decide to let that go and change the subject.
“My children are like a gift from him to me. One last gift. A daily reminder of him. She laughs just like JD. You know—when he’d cackled a little evilly. At the shittiest jokes, too.”
Aberlour nodded because he did remember. JD had been the life of the party, the frat man, the bro dude, the dumbass who laughed loud enough for the neighbours to hear and he’d never apologized for it. JD had been like—like sunlight, cotton candy, and guns all rolled into one, soaked in whiskey, and set ablaze.
“And Mike? That kid—well, you can see it for yourself, right? Like a carbon copy. The way he smiles—” Caroline shook his head and looked down. There was a tear then at the corner of her eye, but Aberlour couldn’t let himself acknowledge it.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and Aberlour didn’t know what to think. He stared at her like she’d lost her mind.
“For hating you, for being angry, for not reaching out,” she explained, then shrugged.
Aberlour shook his head.
“They should have come home—” Aberlour said, although he’d never said it out loud before. “I failed them. I don’t—Youdon’t—” he didn’t finish the thought. He didn’t have to since Caroline obviously understood.
The brunette turned to him, kindness shining in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’m sorry for your loss, for your pain, and for all you’ve been through,” she repeated, clearly and carefully, to ensure that Aberlour understood exactly what she meant.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Aberlour said before he could lose his nerve.
She smiled a little wider, kissed his cheek, and she was gone.
Just like that.
It was easier to breathe after that. Just a little.
Aberlour got to his feet and returned to Oliver, who smiled warmly and introduced him to Marcus’ brother, Devin.
“How are you doing?” Aberlour asked with a polite nod.
Marcus’ brother smiled the same as his father—exactly like Marcus, but while it had hurt to look at him earlier, it now felt—familiar. The iron band around his chest loosened enough to let him breathe a bit better.
Sophie found him as he was getting a beer.
“I still have the bear,” she greeted him.
Ghost’s daughter was just as amazing as ever, Abe thought, as he took in her appearance. The last time he’d seen her had been at Marcus’ wedding, and while she’d matured since then, she was still the same bewitching girl. If barely still a girl.
“Bear?” he asked, taking a long pull from the cold long neck in his right hand. There was another one in his left for Oliver, but he’d get it when he got it. Even if it had gotten warm by then. He wouldn’t walk away from Sophie.
“That year you guys went to the carnival, and you won me that white bear,” Sophie said with a knowing smirk.
