All those happy moments, reminders of the life they were building—the life they should still be living—those I braced myself for.
This snapshot of their life kept frozen in time by the power of a closed door, I wasn't prepared for. Not at all.
"Is it too late to sleep in the living room?" I ask, fingers gripping the couch cushion like it's the last of my sanity.
"Yes." Jovi clears his throat, the hand at my back giving a light squeeze before guiding me forward. "Come on. We can do this."
I nod, forcing myself to go through the motions ahead.
Another step forward and we rest the cushions against the bed before we split apart, both of us bending to pick up a piece of clothing left strewn across the floor. Neither of us speaks as we move on autopilot, picking up and clearing the space enough for us to sleep here. But I hear Jovi sniff and clear his throat more than once, echoing my own attempts to keep my grief contained.
When we finish, Jovi's eyes are as red as mine, and his thick lashes are matted with tears. "Where's that air mattress of yours?"
I twist to look toward the door. "I left it down in the hall outside the den." After walking around the house with it for ten solid minutes, it was the only place I finally felt I could set it down.
He nods. "I'll go grab it."
"I'll find us some bedding," I offer in return.
It only takes a few minutes more, and we have two make-shift mattresses laid out on the floor in the space between Trent and Lena's bed and the bathroom door. It’s not until we both lower ourselves and begin to tuck under the covers that it occurs to me we should have each chosen a side of the bed for some semblance of privacy. Now we'll be stuck right beside each other all night.
Close enough I can do more than reach out touch him, I can scent the stupid, sweet spice of his cologne.
I blink, ignoring the thought. Then turn onto my side to keep my back toward him, bringing me face to face with Lena's dresser. And the bracelet she must have dropped, lying underneath.
"We forgot to turn out the lights," I say, closing my eyes. Every time I see something of Lena's it's like a damn chisel carving out another hole in my heart.
Jovi claps his hands twice. Darkness follows.
"I didn't know they had the clappy lights," I mumble, rubbing at my chest. Lena and I used to joke about how convenient the clapping feature was anytime we saw it on TV or in a movie. I can't believe she actually got them. More than that, I can't believe she never told me.
"Trent installed the clapper a week before the accident," Jovi says quietly. "It was a surprise for her birthday. I don't know if Lena even knew."
I press my hand to my heart hard enough to bruise, as if one pain could distract from the other. He probably planned to show her that night when they got home after dinner. Only they never came home.
"She would have loved it," I whisper.
JOVI
Liz's words come out strangled as the weight of our grief settles over us like a blanket of sand.
I'm failing at what I set out to do. Failing her. And I blurt out the first trivial thought that springs to mind.
"You have hazel eyes."
I swear I canhearthe stumped look on her face. "So?"
"Lena and your dad had blue eyes. Both Remmi and Gavin do too," I ramble, unsure if this will prove to be the distraction we need or just lead us deeper into the depths of her trauma. "How didyou end up with hazel ones?" Christ, don't let the answer be her mother. What the fuck is wrong with me?
"No clue," she says, expelling air in a huff that sounds a mix between amused and exasperated. "Supposedly, I have a great aunt with green eyes that might be to blame, but everyone else in my family has blue eyes."
Thank fuck.
"Weird," I muse, forcing a teasing tone. "Ever wonder if maybe you were adopted? Would explain how you ended up with such a sour disposition when both Lena and your dad were pure sunshine personified."
"Says the only blond in his family," she retorts. "Ever wonder if you were the milk man's kid?"
I shift, trying to get comfortable. All it does is create a rift between the cushions right under my ass. I ignore it. "I'm not blond."
