Reminders of Him

least I can do is believe you.”
Fuck.
I look away from him and wipe at my eyes. I still don’t know what to
do with all these fucking feelings. There have been so many since Kenna
returned.
I lean back in my chair without a clue how to respond to him. Maybe I
don’t. Maybe his words are enough for this conversation.
We sit in silence for a minute or two. It feels different from the bouts
of silence I’ve sat through with him before. This time, the quiet is
comfortable and peaceful and not at all sad.
“Holy shit,” Patrick says.
I look over at him, but his focus is on something in the backyard. I
follow his line of sight until . . . no. No way.
“I’ll be damned,” I say quietly. “Is that . . . is that a fucking pigeon?”
It is. It’s an actual pigeon. A real live white-and-gray pigeon just
walking around in the backyard like this isn’t the most miraculous timing a
bird has ever had in the history of birds.
Patrick laughs. It’s a laugh full of bewilderment.

---

He laughs so much it makes me laugh.
But he doesn’t cry. It’s the first time a reminder of Scotty doesn’t
make him cry, and I feel like this is huge. Not only because the chances of
this random pigeon landing in this backyard at this very moment are
probably one in a billion, but because Patrick and I have never had a serious
conversation related to Scotty that didn’t end in me sneaking away so he
could cry alone.
But he laughs, and that’s all he does, and for the first time since Scotty
died I feel a sense of hope for him. For all of us.
The only other time Kenna has been inside my house was right after she
showed up on this street unannounced. That wasn’t a good experience for
either of us, so when I open my front door and guide her inside, I want her
to feel welcome.
I’m looking forward to getting Kenna all to myself tonight, in an
actual bed. The few times we’ve been together have been damn near
perfect, but I’ve always felt she deserved better than an inflatable mattress,
or my truck, or a hardwood floor.
I want to show her around, but my need to kiss her is stronger. As
soon as I close the front door, I pull her to me. I kiss her the way I’ve been
wanting to kiss her all night. It’s the first kiss without a little sadness or fear
in it.
This is my favorite kiss so far. It goes on for so long I forget about
showing her around the house, and I pick her up and take her straight to my
bed. When I lower her to the mattress, she sprawls out and sighs.
“Oh, my God, Ledger. It’s so soft.”
I reach to the remote next to my bed and turn the massage mode on so
the bed vibrates. It makes her groan, but when I try to lower myself on top
of her, she kicks me to the side. “I need a minute to fully appreciate your
bed,” she says, closing her eyes.
I sidle up next to her and stare at the smile on her face. I lift a hand
and gently outline her lips, barely touching them. Then I trace my fingertips
across her jaw and down her neck.
“I want to tell you something,” I say quietly.

---

She opens her eyes and smiles gently, waiting for me to speak.
I bring my hand back up to her face and touch her impeccable mouth
again. “I’ve spent the last couple of years trying to be a good role model for
Diem, so I’ve read a few books on feminism. I learned that putting too
much focus on a girl’s looks can be damaging, so instead of telling Diem
how pretty I think she is, I put the focus on all the things that matter, like
how smart she is and how strong she is. I’ve tried treating you the same
way. It’s why I’ve never complimented your looks before, or told you how
fucking beautiful I think you are, but I’m glad I’ve never told you before
this moment, because you’ve never been more beautiful than you are right
now.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “Happiness looks good on you, Kenna.”
She touches my cheek and smiles up at me. “Thanks to you.”
I shake my head. “I’m not responsible for tonight. I’m not the one who
saved up every penny and moved to this town and walked to work every
day to try and—”
“I love you, Ledger.” She says it so effortlessly, like it’s the easiest
thing she’s ever said. “You don’t have to say it back. I just want you to
know how much you—”
“I love you too.”
She grins and then presses her lips firmly to mine. I try to kiss her
back, but she’s still smiling against my mouth. As much as I want to take
off her clothes and whisper I love you repeatedly against her skin, I’d much
rather just hold her for a while and give us both time to process everything
that happened today.
So much happened today. And there’s still so much left. “I’m not
moving,” I say.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not selling this house. I’m going to sell the new one. I want to
stay here.”
“When did you decide that?”
“Just now. My people are here. This is my home.”
Maybe I’m crazy, considering how many hours I’ve put into building
that house, but Roman put those hours in too. Maybe I’ll sell it to Roman
for the cost of materials. It’s the least I can do. After all, Roman might have
been the catalyst for how today turned out. Had he not forced me to go back

---

and check on Kenna that night, I’m not sure any of us could have gotten to
this point.
Kenna is done talking, apparently. She kisses me, and she doesn’t stop
until an hour later when we’re exhausted and sweaty and satiated and
wrapped in each other’s arms. I stare at her until she falls asleep, and then I
stare up at the ceiling because I can’t fall asleep.
I can’t stop thinking about that fucking pigeon.
What are the chances Scotty had no connection to that? What are the
chances he did?
It could have just been a coincidence, but it also could have been a
sign. A message from wherever he is.
Maybe it doesn’t matter whether something is a coincidence or a sign.
Maybe the best way to cope with the loss of the people we love is to find
them in as many places and things as we possibly can. And in the off
chance that the people we lose are still somehow able to hear us, maybe we
should never stop talking to them.
“I’m going to be so good to your girls, Scotty. I promise.”

---

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
KENNA
I unbuckle Diem from her booster seat and help her out of Ledger’s truck. I
already have the cross in my hand, so I grab the hammer from the
floorboard.
“You sure you don’t want me to help?” Ledger asks.
I smile at him reassuringly and shake my head. This is something I
want to do with Diem.
I lead her to the edge of the road where I first found the cross, and I
kick around in the grass and dirt with the toe of my sneaker until I find the
hole the cross was in. I hand the cross to Diem. “See that hole?”
She leans forward to inspect the ground.
“Stick it right there.”
Diem drives the cross into the hole. “Why are we putting this here?”
I push down on the cross, making sure it’s stable. “Because it’ll make
your nana happy to know it’s here, in case she ever drives by.”
“Will it make my daddy happy?”
I kneel down next to Diem. I’ve missed so much of her life, which is
why I want every minute we spend together to be authentic. I’m always as
truthful as I can be with her.
“No. Probably not. Your daddy thought memorials were silly. But your
nana doesn’t, and sometimes we do things for people we love, even though
we wouldn’t choose to do those things for ourselves.”
Diem reaches for the hammer. “Can I do it?”
I hand her the hammer, and she hits the cross a few times. It doesn’t
do much, so when she hands the hammer back to me, I hit it three times
until it’s secured into the ground.

---

I wrap my arms around Diem, and we stare at the cross. “Is there
anything you want to say to your daddy?”
Diem thinks about it for a moment and then says, “What do I say? Do
I make a wish?”
I laugh. “You can try, but he’s not a genie, or Santa Claus.”
“I wish for a baby sister or a baby brother.”