Chapter 40
Willow
The last time I stood here, River was beside me.
We had just buried my dad.
The memory crashes into me the moment my eyes take in the place—the wind, the smell of the sea, the quiet stretch of the land. I can still see the grey sky from that day, still hear the dull thud of dirt hitting the coffin.
The last time I ever said goodbye to him.
My chest strains so sharply I have to force a slow breath into my lungs. I thought I was prepared for this. I thought coming back would feel manageable.
I was wrong.
Emotion swells up inside me so fast it makes my throat burn. I latch onto Elijah's hand, gripping it harder than I probably should. I don't even realise how tight my hold is until my knuckles ache.
But he doesn't pull away.
He doesn't complain.
Instead, he holds on to me. His thumb brushes across the back of my hand, the small motion calm and reassuring.
Like he knows exactly what I need.
I lean into him without thinking, letting his warmth steady the storm building inside me.
My anchor.
Fresh flowers rest against his headstone.
The petals glisten with moisture, tiny droplets clinging to them as if they've been weeping. Above us, the sky is overcast and heavy, threatening to snow at any moment.
A sharp gust of wind hits me, biting my cheeks.
I welcome it.
The cold stings my skin, clears my head. It almost feels right, like the weather matches the sorrow that creeps in every time I think about my dad… and the last time I saw him alive.
We slow to a stop in front of his grave.
“You still doing okay?” Elijah asks beside me.
I let out a pained sound.
“Define okay.”
I don't want to cry again. I feel like I've cried enough tears to last a lifetime.
Everything feels distant. Blurry. Like I’m hovering somewhere outside my own body, watching another girl stand here grieving her dad.
Except that girl is me.
People always say bad things happen to good people.
But am I even good?
The thought drifts through my mind as I stare at the headstone. Ever since he died, a part of me has carried the same relentless guilt.
Maybe this was my fault.
Like, maybe if I had done something differently, he would still be here.
I glance sideways at Elijah.
I know he's worried. Worried I’ll hate him for bringing me here. That I’ll think he pushed me into something I wasn't ready for.
But the truth is the exact opposite. I needed this, even though it's painful.
Sooner or later, I had to stop running and finally face what I've been blaming myself for ever since he died.
“He would be so proud of you, baby. I know I am.”
Elijah is wiping away the tears that I hadn't even realised had fallen. His gaze is soft, full of adoration, protectiveness and something a lot like love. But he can't love me; he's not said it, and who could love someone broken?
I swallow hard. I don’t deserve it. I don't deserve him. But I want him, and somehow, he wants me back. There's no way I could be standing here, facing all of this, without him holding me.
The first memory that pops into my mind spills out before I can stop it. “On our birthdays, we used to eat cake for breakfast. He couldn't cook, and he was terrible at cleaning. And even though he couldn't dance, he let me dance on his feet when I was little.”
I laugh softly, the sound bitter and sweet at the same time, and the memory warms me. So many little perfect moments, all tucked in the corners of my mind, refusing to fade. I don't want to forget them.
Elijah shifts closer, and I can feel the quiet encouragement in his presence, letting me open up without forcing it.
“He once made me a sandwich with peanut butter, pickles, and cheese. I actually got sick from it,” he adds with a slight smile.
“That sounds disgusting.”
“Believe me, it was. I never knew anyone to be so bad at making anything, but he made up for it in other ways.”
I get what he means.
My dad was kind. Funny. Patient. He had to be, raising me all on his own. He worked himself to the bone and never once complained. So when he needed me, I never hesitated to do the same for him.
But the thought still claws at me, trying to split me open.
“God… he hates me,” I croak, my voice barely more than a whisper, like saying it louder might make it true. I feel it deep in my chest, my soul, that I let him down.
Elijah grips my hand. “That man could never hate you. You were his whole world.”
I let go, turning to face him. My eyes burn. “You don't understand. I wasn't there… not when he needed me the most.”
“From what River told me, you were there. Every single second. So don't you dare say that.”
I sniffle, bitter and raw. I was there, in my own way. Nobody else could have been. I was all he had because he wouldn't let anyone else in. And Rose, well, she ruined that for him.
I hate her.
Bile rises in my throat as I scan the words etched into the stone.
Beloved father, friend, and son, taken too early. Will forever be loved.
He was stolen from us by a cruel, merciless disease, one he never deserved. And I can't help the trembling anger and heartbreak that ripples through me.
Fuck cancer.
Fuck Rose.
Fuck god if he's even real.
“Do you know where I was when he died?”
The question hangs in the cold air between us.
I've never said this out loud before, not even to my brother. But I can't keep it bottled up anymore because it's tearing me apart.
“Where?” he asks lightly.
I continue to stare at the headstone as I answer, because I can't look at him yet.
“I was at home,” I admit, feeling ashamed. “I was drunk.”
The word tastes bitter in my mouth. I’m disgusted with myself.
“One night I wanted to escape for a bit… just one night.” My throat tightens. “He died alone that night, Elijah. Alone.”
He's going to leave me. I’m a horrible person.
“I promised him I’d be there. I promised him I wouldn't leave him. And the last thing he probably saw was an empty room or the staff who were taking care of him.”
A broken sound forces its way out of my chest.
“And me?” My hand presses against my sternum like I can hold my heart together if I try hard enough. “I got drunk. I was selfish and stupid, and I—”
The words dissolve into a sob.
“I didn't even get to say goodbye to my best friend.”
The overwhelming grief tears through me like my ribs have been cracked open and everything inside has been ripped out.
“I hate myself,” I gasp, shaking my head violently. “I can’t—Elijah, I can’t—”
My knees give out, but Elijah catches me before I can hit the ground. He pulls me against him as we sink together onto the cold grass beside the grave.
Besides my dad.
Besides his ex-best friend.
My body shakes uncontrollably as the sobs rip out of me, months of guilt and pain finally tearing free. I clasp onto his jacket like he's the only solid thing left in the world.
Through the blur of tears, I see his face.
There are tears in his eyes, too.
And somehow that makes everything crack open even wider.
“I just want him back,” I sob into his shoulder. “I just want my dad back.”
For a moment, I’m terrified.
Terrified that now Elijah knows the truth, he’ll look at me differently. That he’ll see what I've always seen in myself since that night.
A girl who failed the person she loved the most.
But his arms only tighten around me, holding me closer.
There's a strange flicker of relief when Elijah cups my face in both hands.
His hands are rough but gentle as he brushes back the strands of my hair, pushing it back away from my face. His eyebrows are drawn together, his expression tight with emotion.
There's no disgust there.
No disappointment.
No resentment.
He's not looking at me like I’m the horrible person I've believed myself to be for so long.
“You are not at fault here,” he insists. “I know you feel like that, and I can't believe you've been carrying this on your own for so long… but it isn't your fault.”
I drag in a wobbly breath, unable to look away.
“You did what you needed to do for yourself.
It's just incredibly fucking unfortunate that that was the night his body gave up. But that man loved you. Still loves you more than anything.” I grip his wrists, holding onto him as he continues.
“What you did for him… what you gave up to take care of him is more than any child should ever have to carry.
You were just a kid when he was diagnosed, so no, you didn't do anything wrong.”
I don't say anything; I can't. All I can feel is his touch and his calm voice soothing me, assuring me that I'm not to blame.
Another tear, one of countless others I've shed today, slides down my cheek and onto his thumb, which gently strokes my damp skin back and forth.
“You're only human, and life dumped a shitty, unfair situation on you that nobody your age should have had to deal with.”
He exhales slowly. “I’m so damn proud of you, and I’m so sorry I wasn't there for you back then,” he admits sadly. “But I swear to you… I’m going to spend the rest of my life making up for that baby.”
My chest shudders with another breath, but this time it doesn't feel like I’m drowning.
Just relief.
I think… This is what I needed.
If Elijah hadn't brought me here, I believe I would have carried that guilt with me for the rest of my life. Finally expressing it and hearing what he had to say eased the pain in my chest.
The guilt hasn't completely disappeared, but it no longer suffocates me. It's just another thing I need to learn to live with.
Months ago, I was ready to give up. Completely. I felt trapped inside the dark, freezing space in my own mind, and I didn't know how to escape.
I couldn't see a way out.
Elijah stepped in like a sliver of light, forcing its way through the cracks, and he stayed. Never left me, even when I was beyond difficult.
Even when I tried to push him away, the weight of losing my dad and the life I once had kept pulling me back into the darkness.
He never loosened his hold on me.
“I don't know what I would do without you.”
He doesn't answer straight away. Instead, he takes my hand and lays it against his chest, holding it there over the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
“You’re never going to have to find out.”
The way he says it makes it sound less like reassurance and more like a promise.
I sniff quietly, scrubbing the dampness from my face with the sleeve of my coat. “You must be getting tired of all my crying.”
He lifts my chin slightly, guiding my gaze back to his.
“Never,” he replies without hesitation. “If you're hurting, then I’m hurting too.”
Sometimes I forget how perfect this man can be.
“I’ll just have to make sure to keep a good supply of tissues nearby,” he adds with an easy lift of his shoulder. “Or my sleeve. Whatever works for you.”
He's ridiculous, too, but I love that he manages to make me smile in situations like these.
I push myself to my feet, a little unsteady. The exhaustion hits me all at once, like the release of everything I've been holding in has drained the last of my energy.
Right now, all I want is to go back with Elijah. Spend the weekend with him. Make new memories instead of living inside old ones that try to tear me apart.
We still have so much ahead of us.
I can only hope my dad is at peace and that he knows that I wanted to be the one to hold his hand when he took his last breath.
I step closer to the headstone and rest my hand on the cold stone, just like I did the last time I was here.
As soon as I do, a tiny snowflake drifts down and lands on my skin.
I blink.
It's snowing.
I can sense Elijah standing behind me, giving me space with a steady patience.
“I miss you,” I whisper. “And I love you.”
My voice is small in the open air, but I hope somehow he can still hear me.
“You don't have to worry about me anymore.” I pause, licking my lips nervously before continuing.
“I have Elijah. He's not so bad, you know.
I hope you're okay with us. Who am I kidding?
You probably aren't," I admit under my breath, a soft huff of amusement leaving me.
“But I wouldn't even be standing here right now if it wasn't for him.”
I trace over the carved letters of his name.
“I think you'd come around eventually. In your usual grumpy way, whenever a boy was mentioned.”
I glance over my shoulder, smiling at Elijah as he watches me, hands in his pockets.
Turning back to the grave, I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Thank you, Dad. For giving me such an amazing life.”
Snow continues to fall, settling gently on the ground around us.
“I hope I make you proud.”
Snowflakes continue to drift softly from the sky as I make my way back to Elijah.
He glances at me with a gentle smile and suggests that I wait in the car, indicating he wants a moment alone with my dad.
I lean in to kiss his cheek before heading back to the car, a sense of change washing over me as I walk away.