Hold on to Hope

That she liked spaghetti and unicorns and her favorite color was pink.

That she was afraid to be alone and fire was her most scariest thing.

Instead, she grabbed his hand and just stared at the sky.

He squeezed it back.

And she knew she’d never been any happier than that.

Five

Frankie Leigh

My tires crunched on the gravel drive of the little duplex I shared with Carly and Josiah. The house attached to us was the exact replica, only mirrored.

Jack lived there.

My spirit gave a shudder at that, my movements stagnant and slowed as I eased to a stop in front of the house. Killing the engine, I sat there staring through the windshield as the shadows from the branches overhead lapped and played, the sun sinking behind the house and hitting the horizon in a blaze of blinding red and orange glory.

I gulped, trying to figure out how to just . . . move.

How to exist in the same town and world where Evan was and him not be a part of my life.

It felt so wrong.

Sacrilegious.

Filthy and obscene.

And at the same time, I felt completely terrified of being in his space. The wounds he’d left raw and throbbing, this pain I was experiencing so intense I wasn’t sure how to stand.

But he couldn’t come close to understanding the depth of the scars he’d left me with.

The front door cracked open, and Milo squeezed his way through, his tail waggin’ like crazy.

Carly stepped out onto the small porch, watching me with apprehension and distress.

I forced myself to get out of my car.

Milo bounded down the two short steps, as fast as his old body could take him, my sweet boy’s back bowed and the whiskers on his face grayed with his age. I knelt down in front of him, petting his neck and landing a kiss to his wet snout.

He wiggled all over the place, loving me the way only a dog could.

Unconditionally.

Absolutely.

I sniffled and somehow coerced myself into standin’, meeting the worry and questions in Carly’s eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “I didn’t know what to do when you took off.”

My shoulders hiked to my ears, my arms crossed over my chest, hugging myself like that would be sufficient to hold the pieces together. I laughed out a weary sound and looked to the hedge that was blowing in the breeze. “I don’t think I’ve ever really been okay . . .” I shifted my attention back to her. “Have I?”

Her lips pursed, and she edged forward, leaning her forearms on the railing. “I think you’ve done the best you can after that type of loss. Better than I expected, honestly.”

I huffed out an ironic chuckle. “You mean you expected me to crumble into a big ol’ ugly mess?”

Her laugh was a little freer, a tease winding through. “Well, you kinda did. You were lucky I was there to help pick up the pieces.”

Even though I appreciated her trying to lighten the mood, my sigh was heavy, and she leaned forward a little farther. “Did you talk to anyone about him? Find anything out?”

“I went to my mama’s. She hadn’t heard anything about it, either. I don’t really think anyone knows what’s goin’ on.”

Sorrow shifted through her being. “I’m worried something is not good with that little boy. Evan seemed . . . distraught. He left with his mama right after you took off. He told her he needed help. Jenna and I closed up, and we didn’t hear anything after that.”

Unease crawled beneath my flesh. Hot and sticky. “Evan was at his parents’ house when I left my family’s.”

“You saw him?”

My nod was jerky. “I saw him outside when I was leaving.”

“Did you talk to him?”

My head shook, my teeth clamping down on my bottom lip to keep myself from crying again. At this rate, I was going to gnaw the entire thing off. “No. I . . . not really.”

Her brow lifted in speculation. “Not really?”

God, part of me wanted to deny my weakness. The effect this boy still had over me. But this was Carly I was talking about. “Okay, fine. I ran over and hugged him hard and then got right the hell out of there before I went and said something that I couldn’t take back. Are you happy?”

“Oh, Frankie. How could I be happy when you’re not?”

The breeze whipped through, and I dragged my fingers through my frizzy curls, pushing them out of my face. “He’s moved on, Carly. And so have I.”

Only saying it hurt real, real bad.

All the way down deep like I was getting a stake jabbed right through the most tender spot in my soul.

“Bullshit,” Carly spat. Somehow it still sounded like encouragement.

“Don’t,” I told her, rubbing at one of Milo’s ears where he sat leaned against my leg, as close as he could get.