He doesn't look broken when I bring them up anymore. He looks relaxed, sure. Ready to hear about the life I lived when I was away because he knows each of my tomorrows already have him stitched in them.
I get to see his first smile every morning. The signature Bowen smirk I think he made just for me when we were little. I'm lucky enough to hear hislaugh, to watch him close his eyes and enjoy the breeze from the window. Every night, I get his hands on my skin and his lips pressing his love all over me.
I get to see him take pictures of birds in the air and cheeky shots of me when he thinks I'm not watching. He always has his camera around his neck, and sometimes when we're parked at night, he'll pull out his woodburning stuff and burn something small but beautiful into a coaster sized wood piece.
While he does that…I'm studying. Most evenings.
Grief counselor. Can you believe it?
Me?
After I moved in with Bowen, I had a lot of time to sit and think. I got a job at Ian's gym in town as a receptionist, but I needed a purpose. To do something. Bowen gave me the idea.
Grief counselor.
My initial reaction was to bend over laughing. Me? The man who fell apart and turned to alcohol? Who broke relationships and nearly killed himself?
Bowen held my hands and told me yeah, me. The man who fell to the darkest place and pulled himself out. The man who loved so deeply, he lost himself to loss.
I know what grief is capable of. I know how sometimes, someone doesn't want to step outside of it. Sometimes, you want the monsters to consume. To make the pain the last stop.
I know. I know it, and if I could help even one person see there is light. Maybe it's not at the end of the tunnel. Maybe it's behind you, above you. Maybe you have to wade through the dark until you find a flicker. A speck. And you have to dig and dig, but you can make it out.
“It's beautiful, isn't it?” I ask, hands over my chest. Brett would have been frolicking in the grass with the butterflies, I just know it.
“The most beautiful thing I've ever seen.”
I turn, eyebrow cocked at his tone. He's not usually so forthcoming with his impressions of places.
He's not looking at the flowers or butterflies. Not even at the mountain.
He's looking at me.
Down on one knee.
My breath hitches. “Boe…”
“I've wanted to protect you from the world since we were five years old," Bowen says, blue eyes glistening in the sunlight. “I wanted to battle your nightmares, hold your hand through every storm, and chase away any fears. I always wanted to touch you. Be near you.” He grasps my hand when I reach for him, kissing my fingers. I blink away the tears pooling in my eyes so I don't miss a second.
“Baby, I've been obsessed with you my whole entire life. I want to travel the world with you. See you sitting at the end of the dock with your toes grazing the lake at home. I want you curled up in front of our fireplace on cold days and reading in the hammock when spring finally hits. I don't want to live without you, kitten. I want you filling my lungs for the rest of my life, baby, because I can't breathe without you.”
“Yes,” I breathe, nodding.
Bowen huffs. “You gotta let me ask, baby.”
“Hurry.”
His eyes sparkle with laughter when he opens the small black box, and what sits inside has my heart burning. A black band with rings of wood inside. One a deep oak color, the other…a putrid, green-stained wood.
“Marry me, kitten.”
“Yes,” I sputter before he can even finish. “Yes, yes.” Bowen plucks the ring from the box and slides it onto my finger. It fits perfectly.
“The wood…”
“From the door at home.”
He laughs as I drag him all the way back to the van.
