Tyler's grave was in the back. Third row from the fence. Cathy had told him this. Once, over the phone, she'd described the headstone to him and he'd said “sounds nice” and changed the subject.
“Dustin?” Greg said.
“Yeah. I'm going.”
He wasn't going.
There was a very clear and simple thing he needed to do — open the door, walk through the gate, find the grave — and he could not make himself do it.
It was stupid. He'd jumped off buildings. He'd thrown himself out of airplanes at fourteen thousand feet. He'd flown through a canyon at a hundred and twenty miles per hour with rock walls close enough to touch. None of that had scared him the way this flat, quiet cemetery scared him.
“I can go alone,” Greg offered. “If you'd rather stay here.”
“No.” Dustin took his hands off the wheel. “It has to be me.”
He opened the door. The night air was cold and smelled like damp earth. He walked to the gate and through it.
Greg followed.
Their shoes crunched on the gravel path and then went silent when they stepped onto the grass.
Dustin counted rows.
First. Second. Third.
And there it was.
Tyler's headstone was simple. Gray granite, cleanedges. In the moonlight it was almost white. Cathy had been taking care of it. There were fresh flowers in a small vase at the base.
Dustin shone his phone's light on the stone to read the inscription.
TYLER WELLS
BELOVED SON AND BROTHER
And below that…
Dustin stared.
Cathy had never told him she'd had an infinity symbol engraved on the stone.
Dustin touched his wrist without thinking. The ink was faded now, the lines soft, but the tattoo matched the symbol on the grave. Matched the tattoo Tyler had worn in the same spot.
Something hot and terrible climbed up the back of Dustin's throat.
He had to swallow it down. He had to…
“Dustin?” Greg said softly from behind him.
“I'm fine.” He wasn't fine. He put his phone away and the light disappeared and the headstone went back to being a pale shape in the moonlight. “Let's do this,” he made himself say.
The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could leave.
He took a breath, took a moment to compose himself.
“I have more to lose,” he said.
His voice carried across the empty cemetery and died in the dark.
