Bittersweet Memories (Off-Limits #4)(2)

I wrap my arm around Ryan fully and swallow hard, struggling to keep my own tears at bay. “We were blessed to have had him, Ryan. You and I… we’ll carry forward Dad’s legacy.”

He nods and leans into me, and I squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. “Is there anything you still want to tell Dad?” I ask, my voice soft.

He hesitates for a moment. “Thank you, Dad,” he whispers, his voice so soft I wouldn’t have heard him if I weren’t standing right next to him. “For giving me Silas, and for always loving us. You always told us to be brave, and I will try to be. I… I’ll be the b-best brother and son I can be, so you will n-never have to worry about Silas or Mom.”

My heart shatters and I bite down on my lip harshly. My sweet young brother is a better person than I’ll ever be, and I need to work harder at being the person he thinks I am.

“Come on,” Mona says from behind us. “They’re going to take him away now.”

Ryan nods and turns at the sound of his mother’s voice, but I don’t follow him. I can’t. I stand there, frozen, taking one last look at my father.

I love you, Dad, I think to myself. I always will. I’ll make you proud, I promise. I’ll be everything you ever wanted me to be. I swear to you that I’ll do better from today onward. I’ll take care of Ryan as if he were my own. To this day, I’m not sure if you saw her true colors, but I’ll shield him from Mona nonetheless. I’ll do everything I know you’d expect of me. This is the very last promise I get to make you, and I swear I’ll keep it. I’ll ensure you can rest in peace, knowing I’ll be there to protect him in your stead. I promise, Dad.

I take a step away when the funeral director smiles at me apologetically, his hands on the casket’s lid. This is it. This is the last time I’ll ever see my father again.

I walk away, needing a moment to myself before I’m forced to face the countless guests that came to see us. As if on autopilot, I walk the path that leads to the graves I know are behind this building. It’s a path I’ve walked countless times with my father.

Just as I’m about to round the corner that leads to my mother’s grave, the sound of soft sobbing stops me in my tracks. On the ground by the trees along the road sits a girl dressed in black, her knees drawn up and her face hidden, the force of her sobs shaking her body.

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m kneeling in front of her, the handkerchief my mother embroidered for me in hand. “Here,” I tell her.

The girl looks up, and the expression in her honey brown eyes hits me right in the chest. She is sorrow personified, and in her, I see myself.





Chapter Two





Alanna



I look up into the most beautiful dark green eyes I’ve ever seen, surprised to find no pity in them… there’s only understanding.

I take the handkerchief with trembling hands and sniff as I wipe away my tears. “Thank you,” I tell him, my voice hoarse. My heart is aching so badly that I think I might be sick, and I clench the fabric in my hands, as though I’m hoping it’ll give me the strength I need today.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

I look into his eyes, and something about his gaze takes the edge off my pain. He’s kneeling in front of me, no doubt ruining his suit pants, yet his entire focus is on me. “Alanna,” I whisper before looking down again.

I trace over the embroidery on his handkerchief absentmindedly, feeling numb. “Psi?” I ask, referring to the greek letter on the fabric.

He nods. “You’re a clever one, aren’t you? I’m surprised you know what letter that is.”

I look up at him indignantly. It’s clear he thinks I’m a child, and it annoys me. “Why Psi?”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s my name. Or, well, it’s a nickname. It’s interesting that you pronounced it the same as sigh. Most people pronounce the P too.”

Psi. What is that short for? Simon, I assume. It’s a bit of an old-fashioned name, so I’m not surprised he’d abbreviate it.

“It’s Ancient Greek,” I murmur. “None of us truly know how it’s pronounced, right? As far as I’m aware, both pronunciations are considered correct.”

Si sits down next to me and smiles, startling me. Until now, I hadn’t even realized just how handsome he is. “Now, where did you learn that, little girl?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m thirteen, I’m not a little girl. I’ll be fourteen next week.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Yeah, I remember being your age and feeling the same way. I’d tell you to enjoy being so young, but I always hated it when people said that to me. All I wanted to do was grow up already. But let me tell you a secret: even when you get to my age, you’ll still feel like a child.”

I roll my eyes at him, my previous grief melting away. “Okay, Grandpa. How old are you?”

He crosses his legs and smiles. “I’m eighteen. Much older than you.”

I shake my head and huff. “Five years, or probably more like four and a half years. You act like you’re ancient, but you can’t even buy a drink yet.”

Si bursts out laughing, startling me once again. He’s so handsome that he could fit right into every single one of my favorite boy bands. That thick dark hair that’s in the same style as a few of my favorite Korean actors, and those cheekbones should be in magazines… he’s the kind of guy I’d never dare speak to at school.