Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 120230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
“I actually wasn’t too sure about coming here after she began to say that stuff about Bea—but she was so excited. And, I thought maybe being here is exactly what she needs. A way to say a proper goodbye to her sister. She never got to do that.”
My spine stiffened. Darcie had made sure none of us got to say goodbye.
The solemn memorial service in a tiny chapel had been a grief-stricken Aaron’s idea. He’d done what he could, but the somber affair hadn’t felt like Bea at all. No sparkle, no shine, nothing but the priest and the seven of us.
No body in a casket. No urn of ashes.
But at least Aaron had tried. I’d always loved him for that. Darcie, in contrast, had seemed to want to ignore Bea’s death, throw her away in more ways than one. I didn’t think I’d ever make my peace with Darcie’s decision to cremate Bea so far from home, scatter her ashes into the ocean.
As for Ash, the man he’d been was divided into two parts in my mind. Ash with Bea, and Ash afterward. When Bea had chosen to take her life, she’d taken the best part of Ash with her.
Suicide.
My Bea.
No, I still couldn’t accept it.
Hell, even all these years later, I could barely believe she was dead. None of us had seen her body, had we? In the deepest, darkest part of night, I thought about that, and I wondered what Darcie had needed to hide that she hadn’t even given Bea a proper burial.
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” I promised past the grit of grief and anger that lined my throat. “I’m surprised you asked me, and not one of the others.”
He grimaced. “Don’t take this wrong, but it’s because you’re always watching people. Usually through the lens.”
“It’s true.” I shrugged. “People are fascinating.” And I’d much rather watch them than be watched.
A surprised smile that creased his cheeks. “I swear I never could figure out what you found so interesting about a bunch of uni students. Surely there’re only so many photos of drunken nights out you can take.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised.” I thought of the photo I had of him dancing with Bea, the spotlight only on them, and the tassels on her glittery dress flying, her hair in motion—and Ash watching her as if she were a fallen star come to land in his hands.
7
I’d intended to gift the photo to Ash and Bea on their engagement because we’d all known where that relationship was going. These days, I kept a print of it in the same folder in which I had a stunning capture of Darcie on the tiny porch of my student flat, her hands cupped around a steaming mug of coffee . . . and a tormented agony in her eyes.
Bea and Ash had been on the lawn in front of her at the time, playing some silly game of lovers. And I’d taken the photo while fiddling with my camera. I hadn’t meant to spy. I never meant to spy. But people reveal so much in the split seconds before they put their masks back on.
“It might only be pregnancy hormones,” I said to Ash today, so far from that morning on the porch where I’d learned that Darcie loved a man who’d never looked at her that way. “I’ve heard they can be powerful.”
Ash glanced over at where the others stood, all animated faces and waving hands. “I’m hoping this reunion will pull her thoughts into the present and away from the memory of grief.”
I almost asked him about his own grief, swallowed the question as I had countless other times. Ash had found a way to move on—and now, he was going to be a father. Nine years after Bea’s death, he’d healed to the point that he could focus on Darcie’s pain and well-being rather than his own loss. I had no right to shake that up by reminding him of the woman who’d chosen to leave him, leave all of us.
She didn’t love me enough to stay.
Whispered, broken words I’d heard by accident when I’d come to the front door at four in the morning, unable to sleep. Though only V, Aaron, Kaea, and I were on the lease, all seven of us had been in the flat that night. Shocked and distraught and unable to face the idea of being alone.
I’d thought no one else was up. I’d been wrong. I would never forget looking through the screen door and seeing Ash slumped on the top step of the house, while Darcie stood in front of him, holding his face to her stomach.
She’d been stroking his hair, the look on her face . . .
Triumphant.
It had nauseated me that night, sent me lurching to the wall in sickened silence, but after all these years, I wasn’t sure what I’d seen. My memory was sharp, yes, but I’d been drowning in grief, my vision skewed. What if all I’d seen was two broken people comforting each other?