Chapter 61
chapter
sixty-one
“I thought moving on meant leaving you behind. Now I know it just means carrying you differently.” – Cyrus
CYRUS
I haven’t been here since the funeral.
Not once.
I don’t need a grave to remember Patrick. The guilt I carry around in my chest is enough. Truth is…I just can’t stand in front of his name carved in stone and accept that I’m part of the reason he’s here.
The cemetery is quiet in the way that only places full of ghosts can be. Every breath sounds too loud, and every heartbeat feels like an apology for still existing among the living.
Haven stands beside me with her hand tucked in mine. Her fingers are warm despite the fading light of the day. The sky above us is bruised purple and gray, the clouds drag low over the horizon like the heavens know this moment needs shadows.
Patrick’s headstone stands in front of us.
Everything about it is wrong because he should be here. He should be standing beside me, making dumbass comments about how dramatic this all is. He should be laughing at the fact that I’m sweating through the hardest moment of my life, even though I’ve sung to thousands and never once choked.
But this?
This isn’t a stage. There’s no spotlight to hide behind, no crowd screaming loud enough to drown out the quiver in my voice or the wrong note. It’s just me, Haven, and the friend I lost before I ever learned how to be a man.
“I still miss him so much,” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice rough. “Me too.”
Her thumb brushes over my knuckles, and that small touch already has me in my feels. For years, I’ve thought grief fades, time makes it quieter, and it becomes easier to manage. But it doesn’t. Grief clings to you without asking for permission.
I exhale slowly and step closer.
“Hey, man,” I say, staring at his name. “I know I haven’t been here much…or ever, and I’m sorry. You know me and emotions. Coming here…it fucking hurts. But…I need you for this.”
Haven turns her head and looks at me. I know she’s probably confused, but I can’t face her while I get this out. If I do, I’ll lose my nerve, and Cyrus Vale does not lose his nerve.
“You know better than anyone that I thought love was something that can be easily ruined if you touch it wrong,” I say, my voice dropping.
“Turns out I was right.” Haven’s fingers tighten around mine.
“But I’ve also learned something else. Some love survives being dragged through hell.
It crawls out of that fiery pit, bloody and furious, and stronger for it. ”
Haven’s bright green eyes draw me in and hold me tight when I finally get the courage to look at her. God help me, this woman. This impossible, stubborn, beautiful woman who has survived me and somehow decided I’m still worth loving.
“Haven,” I say, and my voice breaks on her name.
She shakes her head once, already aware that something big is coming.
“Cy…what’s going on? Are you okay? You look pale.”
I smirk and run my lip through my teeth.
“I’m fine, just…let me get this out before I make a mess of it.”
A tear slips down her cheek, and I reach up to catch it with my thumb. I hold it up so the little bit of wet catches the light.
“I used to want your tears because I was cruel enough to think they proved I mattered. I wanted them because I hated that your smile made me feel something other than anger. I wanted them because in your pain, I found peace. I wasn’t alone with my dark thoughts.”
Haven’s lips part, and I swallow hard.
“Now I hate every single one I caused.” I put my thumb in my mouth and suck the droplet off.
“I hate how I hurt you, and no amount of time will ever erase that regret. But I never want to forget. It is only in remembering that I realize how blessed I am to have you standing here by my side. Because let’s face it. I don’t deserve it.”
More tears fall, but she bites her lip and keeps quiet. My brave and beautiful Haven. My butterfly with scarred wings and fire in her veins.
I take her hand and press it against my chest, right over my heart.
“Feel that?”
She nods.
“That’s yours. Always was. Even when I was too stupid, too angry, and too broken to understand what my feelings meant.”
I slowly lower the zipper of my hoodie until that part of my chest is exposed.
Haven’s breath catches, and her hands fly to her mouth.
There, inked over my heart, still dark and new, is a butterfly with her name scripted elegantly below.
It’s not hidden or subtle. It’s not something I can deny when I wake up one day and decide vulnerability feels too much like weakness, and I need a kick in the ass. It’s permanent, just like her.
“Cyrus…it’s exquisite.”
“I wanted you where you’ve always been. Under my skin. Over my heart. Somewhere, no one can take you from me.”
My voice is rough, and each word is harder to say without choking on the dryness in my throat.
Haven suddenly bursts into full tears. I almost laugh because, of course, I’m the bastard proposing in a cemetery and making her cry.
“I know this is twisted,” I say, brushing her tears away. “I know normal men do this with candles, champagne, and some restaurant they rent out. But we’ve never been normal.”
I slowly drop to one knee in front of Patrick’s grave and reach into my coat pocket to pull out the velvet box. Haven’s eyes flick to it, then back to me.
“Haven, my love for you was never soft. It was ugly before it was honest. It was harsh words before a tender caress. It was a war before it became a home. But you’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.”
Clearing my throat, I ignore the trembling in my body that has nothing to do with my illness and everything to do with the moment. Taking a breath, I softly sing the poem I wrote.
Every wrong turn still led me to you,
even the ones that broke us in two.
If love is a sin, then carve it in stone,
I’ll kneel at your grave before I stand alone.
We were written in blood and unfinished goodbyes,
but I’d choose you again in every tear I cry.
I’d ruin myself a thousand times through,
just to be the man who gets to love you.
You’re the only prayer I never outgrew.
The only sin I still run to.
I open the box and reveal the custom ring. It’s not delicate or traditional. It’s not made for a woman who can be summed up in a simple diamond on a thin band.
It’s an infinity symbol, large and intricate, designed to fit over both her ring finger and middle finger at once. Black diamonds curve through one side like midnight. Red diamonds cut through the other like blood and fire.
Her breath catches.
“I had it made for you,” I say. “For us. You were right to say no before. I hadn’t earned the right to ask the question.”
She stares at it, silently weeping, perfectly still, with her hands covering her mouth.
“Black for everything we survived. Red for everything that still burns between us. Infinity because I’m a selfish bastard and forever doesn’t sound long enough.”
A broken laugh escapes her, tangled with a sob.
I grip the box tighter.
“Patrick told me that if I wanted to continue bullying you, then I’d have to go through him. He was a far better person than I will ever be.” My eyes burn, but I fight back the tears. “I think he’d still kick my ass for half the things I’ve done to you since his death.”
“He would,” she whispers in agreement.
I chuckle through the ache.
“Yeah. He would.”
The laughter slowly fades.
“But I also think he’d want me to do this right.
So I’m asking you here, with him, because he loved you first in the way a best friend should.
He protected you when I didn’t. And I need him to know…
” My voice cracks. “I will spend the rest of my life protecting you, loving you, and being worthy of you.”
I lock eyes with Haven and see it all reflected at me. The grief, the guilt, the love, and the terrifying truth.
“I’m not asking you to marry a perfect man. I’m not even asking you to marry a good one.”
She snickers.
“I’m asking you to marry the man who will choose you in every life and through every disaster. The man who will fight himself before he ever lets the worst parts of him touch you again.” I take her shaking hand. “You are the woman that I’ve always loved. I’m asking you to be my wife…my home.”
The wind moves through the cemetery, and the grass rustles as if a storm is coming. I glance once at Patrick’s grave, then back at Haven.
“Marry me, Butterfly. Let me love you harder than every awful thing I’ve ever done.”
For a moment, she doesn’t speak. My heart stops, actually stops. I’m sure of it. Then Haven drops to her knees in front of me and takes my face in both hands.
“You’re such an impossible, dramatic asshole.”
I laugh loud enough to startle some birds from a nearby tree.
“Is that a yes? I’m not sure.”
She presses her forehead to mine.
“It’s always been yes, Cy. When I hated you, when I ran, and when I didn’t know how to forgive you.” Her lips tremble. “It was always you.”
Her lips touch mine, and I’m able to take the first deep breath since we set foot in this place.
Breaking the kiss, I take the ring from the box and slide it onto her fingers with hands that won’t stop shaking. It fits perfectly. The black and red diamonds catch the last of the dying light.
Haven looks down and laughs. Then she practically tackles me to the ground. I cup her face, kissing her as tears I’ve been holding back break free and slide down my cheeks.
Beside us, Patrick’s grave is silent, but for the first time, the silence doesn’t feel empty. It feels like he is right here with us, laughing and cheering, and clapping me on the back as he tells me that it took me long enough to get my head out of my ass.
When I pull back, Haven places her hand over the tattoo over my heart.
“I love you,” she whispers.
“I know, it was obvious,” I tease as Haven glares at me through her tears. I smile. “And I love you more than my own miserable life, so don’t start.”
She shakes her head. “Still an asshole.”
“Always,” I say, and then smirk. “And I’m all yours.”
“Is it too late to give this ring back?”
“Yes,” I growl, and pull her into me as we laugh.
We hold each other tight while the sky darkens around us. I used to see love as a punishment. A song written in the ugliest parts of me. But kneeling here with Haven in my arms and Patrick at our side, I finally understand.
Some songs never end. The melody just changes. And ours…ours is just beginning.