Ready or Not (Ready #4)(18)
I took a deep breath and stepped off the path onto the grassy earth. As I made my way to the fourth headstone down the row in front of me, I wondered how much regret was felt within the gates of this place.
How many people walked these pathways, knelt in front of these stones, and wished for one more day, one more hour, just to make things different or right?
In life, there really wasn’t such a thing as a second chance. Life remembered, and it would move on. All you could do was move on with it and hope for the best.
As I approached the matching headstones, I immediately saw the small clusters of flowers scattered around the base of the granite.
Tons of them, white lilies and purple lilacs, were beautifully cradled between the two stones. Some were showing age while others were new and bright.
Who would do such a thing?
I looked down at my empty hands and felt like a failure.
“You can have these,” a small voice said.
I turned to see Liv quietly standing behind me, carrying two bouquets of flowers. One was white lilies, and the other was purple lilacs.
“It was you?” I motioned to the flowers at the foot of the headstones.
She nodded, stepping forward. She handed me the lilacs, and we both knelt down together, setting the bouquets side by side in front of the others.
“I come here every Sunday,” she said.
“Why?” I asked, completely stunned by her admission.
“I told you, she was special to me.”
“I guess I didn’t realize how special.”
Looking down, my gaze settled on the engraving, Etta Reid—Beloved wife and mother. Loving grandmother and friend.
“I should have visited more. I should have been here,” I said softly, settling down onto the grass in front of the granite stone.
“She knew you loved her. She always talked about her Jax,” Liv said, giving a wistful smile.
“She’s the only one I ever let call me that.”
“Really? Why? I kind of like it. It’s mysterious.”
I shrugged. “Sounds like I belong in a motorcycle gang.”
She laughed and gave a wink. “Exactly.”
We got up and said our good-byes to Nana and Granddad. I stepped back, allowing Liv a moment alone with Nana, and I waited.
She touched the top of the stone and smiled before saying, “See you next week, Etta.”
We walked back to the pathway in silence before I decided to lighten the mood.
“Did she ever bake those cookies for you?”
“The ones with the dried cherries and toffee pieces?”
I nodded, grinning.
“Yeah, she did,” she answered. “They were like an orgasm in a baked good.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “They’re damn good, but if that is your comparison to an orgasm, you’ve been with all the wrong men.”
“And just who is the right man? You?” A wicked smirk spread across her face.
Reaching the entrance, I stepped in front of her, causing her cool confidence to falter slightly. Inching forward, I breathed her in, nearly molding our bodies together. I could feel her breath against my neck.
“Babe, a night with me would be better than all the f*cking cookies in the world.”
Her eyes widened, and I watched her lips part and her chest rise.
Perfect. Be flustered, Liv. You fluster me constantly.
My mouth curved upward, forming a large grin, just as I abruptly turned around. “Sorry, but I’ve got to get home. I have quite a mess to clean up. Someone TP’d our house last night. You wouldn’t know anything about that, Liv, would you?”
Looking over my shoulder, I saw her collect her composure once again.
“No, I wouldn’t know anything about that.” She grinned.
“Hmm…of course not.”
Recognizing her little blue car next to mine, I unlocked my doors and waited for her to do the same. “You know, I’ll have to retaliate, right?”
Her eyes lit up before she slowly slipped on a pair of shiny black sunglasses. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”
~Liv~
My weekend finished much like it always did—dinner for one and a quiet night of reading. I might have been the only single one left in my small group of friends, but that didn’t mean I had the most exciting life either.
Despite my job and love for my friends, I was actually quite reclusive. I could flirt and mingle when the occasion demanded it, but most nights, I’d rather be home, curled up on the sofa or making something in the kitchen.
I’d spent every last dime I had left from my old life on this little piece of property. The money was a parting gift I’d tried to refuse from my parents when we were torn apart. The sizable sum could have paid to further my education for a PhD, but I had chosen stability instead.
It was the best decision of my life.
This house had allowed me to take the job downtown at the counseling center for a wage that I probably never would have been able to survive on otherwise. Not having to worry about a mortgage had given me the freedom to save my earnings and tuck it away until I was able to finally fulfill my own dream and go into business alone.
This house was more than a home to me. It was where I felt connected—to myself, my friends, and even my family and the life I’d once had.
After my quiet weekend ended, I fell back into the weekday pattern, rising early to exercise and then meet clients before they went to school. My hours were long and sometimes grueling, but I loved what I did. Children were always easy for me to connect with. Maybe it was my weird clothes or the bright tattoo on my back, but they always found me interesting and different, and I would use it to my advantage when counseling.