PROLOGUE
COLBY
Loss has become a part of me. Sometimes loss is a spark on fragile kindling that triggers a blazing wildfire. But like new growth sprouts through burnt earth afterwards, new life comes eventually.
Trust me, I’ve become kind of an expert on grief in the past few years. I lost my husband and my uncle in a short span of time. My family is tight-knit, so the loss of both men reverberated through us, shaking our usually firm foundation.
My footsteps echo loudly as I walk through the house towards the hallway that contains all my family pictures. The house I designed and built just for myself, without anyone else in mind.
I come to a slow stop at the picture of Marcus and me on our wedding day. That day had been perfect, perfectly frozen in my memory. My smile in the picture is bright as always, but Marcus’ is softer, a private one meant just for me. His smile used to feel so earned to me, like by making Marcus grin, I’d accomplished some great feat.
The pain of losing him has turned into a dull ache, less glass-edge sharp than only a year ago. This subsiding pain is justanother sign to me that I’m ready to move forward. My still tender heart leaves me in a sort of limbo—one foot in, one foot out—ready to try again.
Just earlier in the day I took off my wedding ring for the final time, tucking it away in a drawer of my dresser. The action was the last of many steps of letting myself move forward. I won’t say “move on,” but moving forward feels better, more accurate. To maybe try again. But going on dates … doing the entire thing … I don’t know if I’m ready for that.
I wish the universe could just give me the perfect someone without having to search for them. Life is never that easy though.
My Irish setter, Whiskey, barks and startles me out of my reverie when my front door gingerly pushes open.
“Colby?” my cousin Beau calls out from the front entrance.
I pad barefoot down the hallway with my hands shoved deep into my jeans pockets. My cousin is standing by the front door, patiently waiting for me to come into view. Beau’s been a steady rock for me the past few years, visiting almost every Sunday on his way home from the family farm.
“Hey.” My voice comes out scratchy, even to my own ears. Hot shame wells up inside me for just a moment before disappearing, this is Beau, it’s alright for him to witness my grief.
“Colby,” Beau says softly, voice full of tender empathy. He takes his ball cap off, rubbing at the dark brown hairs standing up on the top of his head. “Bad day?”
A helpless shrug is all I can give Beau in answer. Bad days are far and few between now, but they still come. Less out of sadness these days and more out of loneliness. Some days the distinct lack of noise in my house is so overwhelming that I could weep.
Beau quietly follows me into the kitchen. After handing Whiskey a small treat, I fondly pat her head. I grab a beer out of the fridge to hand to Beau. Silence surrounds us for a bit as we stand sharing beers and company.
Whiskey is a solid presence by my feet just like she has been the past few years. She’d been a present from Marcus before I’d lost him.To keep you company, Marcus had said with a wry smile. The unsaidonce I’m gone,had almost killed me then, but I’m grateful for his sweet thoughtfulness now.
“How’s your mom?” I ask Beau as I take a slow sip of my beer.
It’s easier to focus on my aunt, on Beau, because their grief is fresher, much sharper than mine. Beau’s always been a quiet kind of guy, tenderhearted too. I’m a few years older than him, so I’ve always been a protector of sorts for him, despite him towering over me even by the time we were teens.
“Mom’s doing good. She’s working back in the front office again.” Beau takes a steadying sip of his own beer. “Listen, I got a suggestion for you. But you gotta not be judgmental.”
I skewer him with the most intense look I can summon. “Beau, it’s me. I was there that time you jumped naked into the springs on a dare when you were a kid.”
“True,” Beau says with a hearty chuckle.
I hold my beer out, using it to gesture for Beau to go on.
“Maybe you need to get back in the saddle. Get back out there. Just pull the Band-Aid off.”
“That’s a lot of metaphors, Beau.”
“Shut up.” Beau shoots me a crooked smile as he belly laughs. I’ve missed his laugh so much the last few months. “Do you remember Trevor?”
“Yeah,” I tell him, rubbing at my unshaven jaw as I recall Beau’s last boyfriend. “That guy you brought to Andy’s wedding? To your dad’s funeral too. What happened to him?”
Beau lets out a deep breath, then tiredly rests his forearms on the kitchen island. Exhaustion radiates off of him, and I wish I could help him, but I don’t know how. He anxiously taps his fingers against the beer bottle he cradles in his hands. Clearly he wants to share with me but is unsure. So I wait him out.
“Listen, I hired him.”
“You hired him,” I repeat in confusion.
