Beautiful Graves(99)

He kept it. All these years. He didn’t throw it away. Didn’t burn it in a small, controlled fire like I thought he would.

“The interesting thing about this photo,” Gemma starts, “is that in the backdrop, you can see Neptuno de Melenara, the famous statue, so I knew it was taken in the Canary Islands, and by Seph. But the photo . . .” She sucks in a breath. “It looked familiar, and I realized why. I’d already seen it, on Christmas Day. Dom was holding it after he’d gone up to the attic to get his sports gear.”

I shake my head, tears spilling on my cheek. “I had no idea, Gemma, I swear. I had no idea they were brothers before Christmas. And Dom didn’t either. He must’ve found out then.”

“I figured as much.” She wraps her fingers around my arms, jerking me to her in a hug. “Listen now, Ever. You have to listen to me.” She pulls away, holding my cheeks in her hands. We blink at each other. “Life’s too short. Way too short. If you love Seph . . . if Seph loves you . . .”

She doesn’t complete the sentence. She can’t. Anything she says would be a betrayal to one of her sons. She is torn. Me, not so much. I no longer feel an obligation toward Dominic. I just don’t know if Joe and I are each other’s fate. Every time we come together, something terrible happens. I don’t want any more casualties in this game of cat and mouse we play. Our love seems to be the bloodied, thorny kind. Something occurs to me, then.

“Gemma . . .”

“Yes?”

“Remember the wooden boat I got Dom?” I’m sure she does. She helped me pack his bedroom after he passed away.

Gemma nods, frowning at me. “What about it?”

“Where is it?”

She presses her lips together, her eyes downcast. Like she shouldn’t tell. “Joe took it,” she says, finally.

“Thank you, Gemma.”

“No, thank you. For loving both my sons . . . and, although during different periods of time, making both of them happy.”



The journey to Salem is a blur. When I arrive at my old apartment, Joe is waiting for me outside, sleeves rolled up to his shoulders. Flattened cardboard boxes are tucked under his arm. My heart hiccups as my eyes take in his beautiful face. I can’t look at him and not think about the fact that he kept the photo. That he has endured so much from Dom, from his family, from me.

“You didn’t have to come.” I get out of the cab and give him a hug.

“Nothing beats moving your ass out of this shithole.” He lifts my left hand and examines it. He notices the change right away, which means it’s the first thing he looks at every time he sees me. He holds my left hand and turns it here and there. “No ring.”

I lean my forehead against his shoulder. “No ring.”

There is expectation in the air. I guess this is my time to say something profound. But I don’t have anything to say. I’m not sure where my mind is at right now.

“Are you going to be looking at colleges while you’re here?” he asks, his tone guarded this time. We’ve both been hurt so much.

“Actually, I’m only here for a couple days.”

“Huh.” He rubs at his chin. “I see.”

I’m considering Tufts, Northeastern, and Boston University.

My heart tells me to tell him that the only reason I haven’t decided yet is that I am scared. So, so scared to finally have him. To lose him.

My heart tells me to drop to my knees and beg him to help me make a decision. What would be right? What would be the least painful? If only someone could tell me that if we were together tomorrow, no one else would lose their life. No one else would suffer.

But my heart is not in charge anymore. I can’t get a word out of my mouth. I can’t even begin to think what to say.

“Right.” Joe steps back, whipping his head around to look at the entrance door. “Shall we?”

We both walk inside. The place looks familiar and yet strange. Nora has moved all her things out at this point—the fact that she still pays half the rent is insane to me. It’s just my stuff and the cursed sofa we got at the flea market together.

“I’ll tackle the bedroom; you can pack the kitchen. Everything goes to charity. Other than expired food. That goes to the trash.” I clap my hands together.

“No offense, Ev, but the place stinks.”

“None taken.” I smile. “And that makes sense. No one’s been here in months.”

Eight months, to be exact. Has it really been almost a year since Dom passed away?

Joe hooks his phone to his Bluetooth. The Smiths blast through the speakers.

“Morrissey!” I raise my fist in the air.

“I’d tattoo his name on my ass if he asked me. True story.” Joe is already deep inside the kitchen, tossing things into a huge black garbage bag.

It is pathetic, how few things I have. Joe and I take three hours to have everything tucked away in boxes, labeled, and ready to be handed off to the nearest Salvation Army branch. We’re sweaty and panting as we stand in an empty living room, save for that damn couch.

“When did you say your friend is going to pick it up?” I jolt my chin to the couch.

“Dale?” Joe glances at the time on his phone. “We still have about two hours. He works at the docks with me. Gets off at six.”