Stolen Course (Wrecked and Ruined #2)

“Here.” She hands me a bright pink balloon with black ink scrawled over the outside.

Thank you for Caleb. He’s amazing, and I know you had a hand in that.

I look up at her, confused, just as she hands me the next balloon.

Thank you for Collin. Without you, he wouldn’t be here. You gave me that. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.

“Emma, what are you doing?”

She hands me yet another balloon.

Thank you for helping Sarah through this. She needs you and loves more than you will ever know.

And just when I begin to think Emma has completely lost it, she hands me her last balloon.

Manda, I didn’t know you well, but I love you for all the things you have given me.

And that is when it hits me—she’s talking to Manda via balloons.

“No,” I whisper as my voice catches.

“Caleb, you can’t stop me.” She stands, snatching the balloon strings from my hand and heading out the front door.

It might seem ridiculous. I know she isn’t really talking to my dead fiancée, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try to stop her from releasing those balloons.

“Emma!”

“Shut it, Caleb! I’m doing this and it’s long overdue. She has given me more than I can ever thank her for, so damn it, I’m sending her four balloons.” She wipes a tear from her eye and lets them go.

I watch helplessly as four pink balloons zigzag through the sky. It’s more than I can take, and I find myself falling onto my ass in my front yard while they float out of sight. I’m not sure if it’s the words written on them or the very idea of Manda actually receiving them that has me in a panic. I can almost see her face when she reads each one. The bright smile I know she would be wearing and the breathtaking laugh that would be sure to follow.

“Here.” Emma appears at my side, holding out the black marker and six pink balloons and two white ones. “Get busy. You have a lot stuff to say. Let me know if you need more balloons.” I begin to argue, but I can’t get a word in. “Caleb, it needs to be said. You have people depending on you, and it’s not Manda anymore. The pink ones are for her, and the white ones are for Sarah.” My eyes grow wide, and she quickly amends her statement. “The old Sarah. The one who Manda and Brett loved. She’s gone and you have things to say to her too.”

“Emma…” I drift off because I’ve been an ass recently, and I know she deserves more. I stare at the swell of her belly, at my son, and know she’s right. “I miss her,” I finally admit, looking into her eyes.

“And that’s okay, Caleb. I’m not asking you to forget her. But what isn’t okay is you rolling around in your grief, pushing me away, and forcing me to do this pregnancy without you because of your issues with her. Sure, you might be present, but you aren’t here.”

I lock my hands on top my head and let out a loud breath. “Sweetheart, no amount of balloons in the world is going to fix me.”

“Maybe not, but a first step is better than no step at all.” Her words make my heart ache.

“Emma, no matter how big of a dick I may act like, I love you and I love that baby. I just can’t figure out how to let go of the past and embrace the future. I feel like I’m nailed down. The world keeps passing me by, but I am rooted without any way to let go.”

“I know, so you better get to writing. I love you too, and that is the only reason I’m doing this. I need you, he needs you, and no matter what you think…you need us. Now, make sure this hurts like hell so you can truly let it fly away with those balloons.” She turns and walks into the house, leaving me sitting alone in our front yard with a fistful of helium and a black marker.

I sit for a few minutes, trying to figure out how long I need to sit out here to make her believe I followed through with her elementary ploy, when suddenly a single bright red leaf blows across my foot. It’s the middle of August in Chicago. There are nothing but green leaves on the trees this time of year, and while I know it’s probably left over from last fall, blown from the yard of my neighbor who never rakes, I still take it as a sign from Manda. After uncapping the marker, I begin to write.

Four hours later and six pink balloons that are now more black than pink, I let them go and watch them float away, taking with them a huge weight off my chest. My words weren’t all sweet and kind. Some of them were angry and even scathing. I’ve been pissed off for a long time, but you can’t exactly take that out on the woman who lost her own life. However, you can’t take it out on the woman you hope to spend the rest of your life with either.