I stand again, comfortable that her headstone is perfect.
“I just wanted to let you know that I love your son. I think it’s a hope for all parents that their children find someone who love them as much, if not more than you do. I don’t know if you were ever concerned that Rocco may not find that…”
I sigh.
“Actually, from what I’ve been told about you, I think you knew he’d own someone’s heart one day. That he’d guard that heart with everything he holds inside of him; scarred or whole. I just want you to rest easy knowing that I love him that way too. I own his heart as much as he does mine. I promise to protect it, to cherish it, to love it through its darkest moments.”
I see him approach, eyes searching for me at the Dogwood where he left me.
“Thank you,” I tell Lila’s gravestone, hoping like hell she hears me. “Thank you for filling him with a love so thorough, most people can’t understand it. It’s a beautiful kind of love, Lila.”
The touch of his hand brushes my shoulder and I turn. Eyes filled with tears, he stares at me in complete diffidence. I pull him into a hug.
“Mira?” I ask, my face pressed forcefully against the hard plane of his chest.
“Yeah,” he stutters. “Hardest conversation I’ve ever had in my life and the other person couldn’t even respond.”
“That’s almost worse,” I tell him. “Because you never really know whether you have the forgiveness you’ve asked for. It’s all unknown and nothing is more compromising than the unknown.”
My chin resting over his shoulder, his face buries into my neck, finding comfort in the steady rhythm of my pulse. It’s only then that I see her.
Blake Shay, watching us candidly.
Our eyes catching, she brushes at the tears she’s shedding before turning on her heel and disappearing as fast as she appeared.
I have no idea how she got here. How she managed to follow us, or why. But I keep her hidden company to myself. This was a private moment for Rocco. One of reluctant grief and a step forward he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to take. A show of vulnerability I’m not sure he’d be willing to share with his kids. Not yet anyway. Not while the blame still has his heart tied in knots.
Walking back to the car, he’s quiet, contemplative even.
“Do you think they’ll stay?” he questions. “Blake and Jesse.”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
“If they could just tell me what they wanted… I want them to tell me who they want me to be and I’d strive my fucking best to be that person for them.”
I pull at his arm, stopping him from opening his car door. My hands brush along his chest. “Roc, baby, what makes you think they want you to be anyone other than who you are?”
“Ain’t exactly the pick of the bunch am I, beauty?”
I take a step back, angered by his self-loathing. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“This.” I wave my hand in front of his face. “All the fucking contempt you wrap yourself in. You’re a good fucking person, Rocco Shay. A little psychotic at times, sure, but love is all about the extreme. In my opinion anyway. No one wants to be loved half-assed. They want to be fuckin’ consumed. My dad has me followed for fuck’s sake,” I gripe. “But I know it’s because it’s his neurotic way of making sure I’m safe.”
I move a step forward, hands pressed against the side of his neck. “Rocco. Stop holding yourself to this warped idea of your own imperfection. No one is fucking perfect. No one.”
“You are,” he whispers.
“Well, yeah, obviously.” I smirk. “I’m serious,” I implore. “I love who you are. Parker loves who you are. They will too. I just wish you’d find it in yourself to love the real version of you as well. He’s kind of amazing.”
“Just kind of?” A finger dips into the line of my shirt, pulling me closer.
“Maybe a little bit more,” I murmur, thumb and forefinger held between us showing an inch of space.
Head dropping, he smashes his lips against mine. A simple closed mouth kiss that is full of appreciation and fierce love.
It’s not every day that your dad turns fifty-two. Or so Codi says.
My dad hates celebrating his birthday. In fact, I’m pretty certain he despises it. What he doesn’t hate though, is having everyone he cares about in one place, enjoying one another’s company. So for that reason, each year, Dominic agrees to a birthday get-together at Codi’s suggestion.
This one seems bigger than the last few years. I mean, York is here. Fucking York. Like, did Codi actually invite him? Don’t get me wrong, Rocco called him Dork when we entered the house and I’m not even gonna lie, my life was made.
I’ve also had at least five margaritas and about to grab my sixth.
“You don’t find it weird that the older Shay brother has just been brought into the fold?”
Tipsy enough, I didn’t hear his approach.
“No, Dork. I don’t.”
He scowls. I smile.
“You do realize you’re talking about my guy. Like, Rocco and I are involved and you’ve just basically told your boss that you aren’t a fan of one of his family members?”
I hiccup.
“You’re not my boss.”
“But also kind of am.”
He stomps away.
“Fucking loser,” I mumble to myself, searching the room for Rocco.
He’s talking to Tivoli, lounged back on our sectional with an untouched beer in his hand.
Stone-cold sober to my wobbly and more-amusing-than-attractive intoxication.
Stalking over with a sway to my hips that likely makes me look like a newborn giraffe, he smiles. A smile that promises a million and one things. Not all appropriate, some downright filthy, but some overflowing with infatuation and love.
“Oh hey,” I slur, that last margarita twisting my tongue.
Tivoli, having seen my approach, makes himself scarce, a look of judgment in his eyes as he passes me.
I look back, surprised at his scrutiny. Like they haven’t done shitty things in their lives. Yet they’re sitting on their throne of importance because why, they work for my dad?
Rocco’s hand brushes against mine, a thick blonde brow raised as he pats his knee.
I glance at it, tracking up to his face. “You have a nice face,” I compliment. “I’d like to sit on it.”
“You’re drunk,” he observes.
I scrunch my nose up in affection, pinching his cheek. “Pretty and smart.”
“And irritated by drunk people.”
I stick my bottom lip out. “And a total party pooper.”
“Where’s your dad?”
“Bed. He went too hard too early.”
Rocco frowns.
“Okay fine. He’s old and hates celebrating his birthday. He hates the extra attention.”
“Smart guy.”
“You can marry him in another life,” I tease. “Right now I’d like to kiss you.”
Instead of kissing me like I’d hoped, he lets his eyes run along my face.
“What?”
“Nothin’,” he murmurs, lifting his thumb to drag it down my bottom lip, resting it along my chin. “Just thinkin’ I like you lookin’ like this.”