She smiled, wearing the same white nightgown she’d been wearing when he’d found her in their bedroom. Her blond hair was pulled back in a braid, strands free around her face.
“Surprised to see me?”
He blinked, but she remained. “How is this possible?”
She offered her hand. “You know, you don’t always have to have the answers for everything.”
But he needed answers. He needed logic, and nothing about this was logical. Everything slowed around him when he took her delicate fingers in his. She felt solid, so familiar. “You feel warm.”
“You’d expect different?” she asked with a laugh, leading him closer to the tree where he’d spread her ashes.
The world spun away from him as he glanced down to their intertwined hands. He sat next to her under the tree and she felt real. Like she’d never left him. “This can’t be real.”
She tightened her fingers. “This doesn’t feel real to you?”
“It does,” he countered, losing himself in the tight way she held him. “But…”
Laurel gazed at the creek and then up at the willow tree. “I like it here. You picked a good place for me to rest.”
His mind wanted to refuse this as truth. He decided to stop fighting, needing to get all the things he wanted to say out. “It felt right when I found this place. You would have been happy living here. We should have moved here. You would have been safe.”
She turned to him with a smile that broke his chest wide open. “I would have loved this house, you’re right.” Her gaze fell to the home behind him. “But this was never meant to be my home.”
He sucked in a harsh breath, the world feeling like it was slipping away from him. “It should have been.”
She gave a dry laugh. “Should have, could have, might have, those are all possibilities that will never be.”
His stomach roiled. He’d been saying those statements for far too long. To ground himself, prove this was truly happening, he looked out at the pebbles and gravel half-buried in the muddy creek bottom. She moved closer, leaned her head against his shoulder, and said, “You know why I’m here. You know what we have to talk about.”
Hayes shut his eyes against the exposed wound in his heart. “What if I don’t want to talk?” He enveloped her, holding her tight to him. “What if I just want to keep you like this and not let you go away again?”
“We don’t get that choice, but choose if you’re ever going to forgive yourself.”
“How can I?” he said, time seemingly halting. “It’s my fault you disappeared.”
Laurel leaned away from him. Her gaze was sharp like it used to be when she got annoyed with him. “You’re looking at this all wrong.”
“How else am I supposed to look at it? I let someone live, and that choice cost your life.”
She placed her hand on his arm, a warm, touching comfort that seemed familiar. “The alternative would have been that you killed an unarmed man. That’s not you. That won’t ever be you.”
“But if I had, you’d still be here,” he said.
She slowly shook her head. “I’m not supposed to be here. Nothing you could have done would have changed that. Maybe the manner of how I died might have changed, but I would have gone, regardless.”
“I don’t believe that.”
She laughed softly. “Not even you can change what’s written in the stars, Hayes.”
He wanted to shout that he could fix all this. Make it all right again, but control had been lost to him a long time ago. Water trickled around rocks and over twigs. Everything was too vivid. Too real. “Were you afraid…when it happened?”
She shook her head. “No. I didn’t feel anything. Didn’t hear anything. It happened so fast.”
His eyes welled. He blinked to clear his eyesight, only to make sure he kept seeing her. “It didn’t hurt?”
“Nothing hurt.”
Hayes gathered her in his arms, just for this second. He held on tight, having no idea how much time he’d get. “Did you wonder if I’d come?”
“It all happened too fast for any of that, Hayes,” she explained gently. “You have to stop blaming yourself. Don’t waste any more time. Be happy. If not for you, for her.”
He knew exactly who she was talking about. “Maisie.”
Laurel leaned away and smiled bright, the deep love for Maisie shining in her expression. “You’re nearly there. So close to having what life is all about. People. Family. Friends. Love. It’s all that matters, Hayes. If you want to do right by me, then forgive yourself for you, forgive yourself for her. Be happy. Be good to her. Be good to each other.”
Hayes shut his eyes, feeling Laurel’s pulsating energy next to him, swearing she was right there. Her floral perfume smelled the same. The press of her head on his shoulder was so familiar. The words she said, all the things he knew she’d say to him. Warmth began to fill the broken, cold, dead parts of his heart. Somewhere in his mind, he knew this couldn’t be real, but his heart didn’t listen.
“I miss you,” he told her, holding her close. “We both miss you so much.”
She met him with teary eyes. “I miss you and Maisie too.”
He caught those tears and wiped them away. “I could have saved you, if I’d only gotten there in time.”
“No, Hayes, you couldn’t,” she said, closing the distance until her arms were around him tight. “Stop slowly dying for me. I never wanted that. If you do anything now, live for me.” Then her smile warmed. “Make Maisie’s dreams come true. All of them. You and only you can do this for her.”
Hayes’s chest tightened. “I wanted your dreams to come true too.”
“They did,” Laurel said. “I had you. I had Maisie. I had everything I ever wanted and more.”
“You didn’t have time.”
She lifted her hand to his face. “Move forward. It’s time for that.”
Her voice became distant, her warmth slowly dissipating, replaced by a cold void Hayes couldn’t run from. He wanted to scream, to run to her, but suddenly, his eyes snapped open.
Shadows spread across his ceiling. “Fuck,” he breathed, sitting up, drenched in sweat, thrusting his hands in his hair. It’d all been a dream, or his subconscious, but his feet were moving anyway. When he reached the back door, he flung it open, not sure what he’d find.
The early morning was just the same. The fog. The wet earth. The quiet. He shut his eyes, swearing he could still feel Laurel right there. But when he opened them, he was alone.
16
A ping on Maisie’s window jolted her awake. The clock read 5:02. She slid out of bed, quickly moving to her window. She was completely unprepared when she realized Hayes had thrown a pebble at her window. She opened the window before he could throw another one. “What are you doing?” she called down to him.
He stood near the porch light, the morning fog hanging over the wet earth. He wore a T-shirt and jogging pants, his hair a wild mess. Obviously he’d either not slept yet or had just woken up. “We need to talk,” he called up to her.