I peel my eyes from his mouth to glance out the window. All I can see is a gathering of tall green trees but nothing beyond. As we climb out of the car, I summon a deep breath. “I smell trees… and water.”
“Come on. This way.” He reaches out to twine his fingers with mine. My gaze drops to our joined hands as I follow behind him, trying not to give my smile away. Butterflies dance in my belly and even break out into song. I know I’m being foolish because it doesn’t mean anything. And for someone who always tells the truth, I’m pretty darn good at lying to myself. Because in this moment—it means everything to me. I only hope it means something to him.
We work our way past the opening of trees, stepping over small stones and large rocks until a river comes into full view. The sun casts a bright beam against the mossy green water, and that, coupled with the sound of a rushing waterfall, makes me lose my breath. Suddenly Zack is all around me, and it’s overwhelming in a way that’s hard to describe. My chest feels heavy, yet light at the same time. Tears well in my eyes but refuse to fall. Somehow as I take in the beauty that surrounds us, it brings me an overall sense of peace. I can see it in Vance, too. The way his shoulders relax, his profile softens. He lets go of my hand and I inwardly sigh at the loss of contact.
“This is my favorite place,” he admits, one hand on his waist as he gazes up at the sky. “My mother used to bring me and Julian here. This is where she taught us how to skim rocks. Of course,” he lets out a breathy laugh, “Julian sucked at it. It’s always been one of the things I was better at than him.” Vance points to a nearby segment of rock and we sit down, stretching our legs out on the sun-warmed stone. “I remember this one time,” he looks over at me, “I think we were maybe ten or so—” Vance stops mid-sentence, his gaze hard and heavy on my face. “What is it? What’s going on in your head?” I want to answer, but I don’t want to spoil this for him. “Out with it, Mickey.”
Arms crossed over his chest and expectant stare unwavering, he waits for my words to come. I think I need to say them. “That sculpture.” I pause to gather a breath. “The one of the hands that you commented on… it’s from a recurring dream that I have. The one where I’m reaching out to Zack, where he latches onto my hand and I save him.” I blow out my resolve, and along with it, the truth. “He drowned while he was on a white water rafting trip in Colorado,” I admit quietly. Vance gasps, but I keep my focus trained on a piece of grass sticking up between two rocks. “My mom didn’t want him to go. She told him it was too dangerous and you know what he said?” I continue as if Vance isn’t here, as if I’m talking to myself. Words I’ve replayed over and over in my head for two years. “He said, ‘Mom, I’m a daredevil. I’ve got a zillion lives.’ And that was it. That was one of the last things he ever said to us.” I wrap my arms around myself to stave off the sudden emptiness from missing him. “I didn’t think twice about it, because it was Zack. And that’s just what he did.” My eyes travel back to his. “And he always came home… except that day he didn’t.”
Vance lifts a hand to his forehead, rubbing two fingers against his temple. “Jesus, Ember. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. If I had, I wouldn’t have taken you here and—”
“No.” The last thing I want is for him to feel bad about bringing me here. Especially since he’s sharing a part of himself. Head held high, I give him the biggest smile I can muster. The expression catches me unaware. The tingle in my cheeks unexpected as I realize this is not only for his benefit, but coming from a deeper spot in my heart—a place of comfort, not grief. Then my lips spread wide because in some bizarre way this all makes sense to me. Like fitting the final piece into a puzzle. “I’m really glad you brought me here, and I love that this is your favorite place. It’s perfect and beautiful, and I want to hear more.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, still studying me to make certain I’m okay.
“Yes, I am. Promise.” I nudge his foot with my sneaker. “Now finish your story.”
He stares at his black Chucks touching my red ones and his mouth relaxes into a smile. “Okay, but no laughing,” he orders, and I show him my most serious face. “So I think… we were about ten. Anyway, we came down here with Mom to go swimming.” He glances out at the water. “Julian decided he thought it would be funny to put a frog down my shorts and I think I freaked out a bit.” He turns to me. “Well,” he admits without reservation. “Maybe more than a bit.”
“I bet you were cute,” I tell him, recalling the pictures on the wall of his room.
He glides a palm over his knee. “I ran out of the water like my fucking shorts were on fire. Plus, I had braces and an early onset of acne so I’d say there was nothing cute about me.”
I stare at his face and find that difficult to believe. His eyes probably drew girls in like bees to honey. “I got teased by Martin Fanning in the sixth grade hallway. He used to say, ‘How about a little fire, Ember?’”