More Than Enough
Page 54

But there was one letter that hit me right in the feels. One that changed my outlook on everything. She told him about all the unsent, unread letters and she promised he’d never see them. At least not while he was deployed. She wanted him to focus on absolutely nothing but getting home to her. Safe. So they can continue making the memories she holds so close.
And when she ended the letter with “Fuck the oceans,” I lie down on the bed, her letter against my chest, listening to the silence that surrounds me and release the fear of grief.
I connect to a woman whose words give me a sense of calm, of hope and of understanding—long after her last breath.
Ruby Banks—she was something else.
She was brave, she was funny, and she put love first.
She was an exceptional woman.
And she was everything I hope to be.
 
 
Thirty-Four
 

Dylan
“You think this is enough?” Dave mumbles, sitting against a wall of what I’m sure was once someone’s home… now ours for the night. I pocket the picture of Riley I’d been staring at and face him. “What’s enough?”
“What we’re doing? You think we’re saving the world?”
I shrug. “You think that’s our purpose?” I ask him, my weapon to my chest, finger off the trigger. We hadn’t heard anything since the sun set. Our duties are done for the day—at least me and Dave’s—and I plan on spending the next couple hours trying to get some sleep.
Apparently Dave has other plans. He likes to save these philosophical conversations for the times when we’re alone. He ignores my question and asks, “You ever regret it?”
“Regret what?” I shuffle further down the wall until I’m lying on my back looking up at him.
He shakes his head. “Nothin’.” After a pause, he smiles. “I miss my fuckin’ mom, man. And my brothers.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out some photographs. “Ricky had a birthday party. They sent me photos.”
“Ricky’s the youngest, right?” I take the pictures from him.
“Yep,” he says, his pride evident. “Just turned seven.” He points to the picture. “They all dressed up as Minions.”
I study the photograph: Three boys standing next to each other in bright yellow shirts underneath blue denim overalls. They have the same red hair and freckles as Davey. Same identical smiles. “They look happy,” I tell him, moving to the next picture of Ricky blowing out the candles on his cake and I find myself smiling. “Maybe being here is different for everyone, Dave. Maybe we’re not here to save the world, or maybe we are. But in the end, you saved them—your mom and your brothers. You think they’d be smiling like that if your old man were still home beating the shit out of you and your mom? They’re your purpose and you’re their reason.”
He’s quiet as he takes the pictures from me, a solid frown on his lips. “Yeah… you’re right. I guess sometimes I forget that.”
“It’s real easy to forget when you’re here. I’m sure they don’t forget what you’re doing for them, though.”
He nods slowly, carefully placing the pictures back in his pocket. Then he smiles when he looks back at me. “Yo. What do you think our girl’s doin’ right now?”
“A: She’s my girl. Not ours. And B:…” I close my eyes and settle my head on my rucksack, trying to picture her smile, hear her laugh, but the only thing I can see are eyes the color of sadness. I release a breath, my heart aching for her. “I just hope she’s finding the strength she needs to get through the day.”
Riley
Two years.
That’s how long it’s been since I’d driven up this road. Since I’ve seen the clear blue of the lake. Since I’ve sat on these rocky embankments watching the sun filter through the water.
Two long years.
And I don’t know how I feel.
I glance down at Bacon sitting on my lap. “Well… I’m here. That’s something, right?”
He pops his head up, just for a second, before settling back down on my arm.
I take a breath, ignoring the thundering of my heart as I slowly tear my gaze away from him and up to the edge of the cliff, a thousand questions running through my mind. I wonder if it knows the heartbreak it caused—the life it took that created an onset of events that brought me here. “Time to make Daddy proud,” I tell Bacon, setting him on the ground beside me. I stand and turn my back on the cliff and the lake and focus on him. “I bet you’re sick of me talking about him, huh?” I clip the leash on his collar. Squatting down so we’re eye to eye, I say, “You’ll love him, Bacon. And he’ll love you. And when he comes home, we’ll be a happy family and I’ll be free of all this. That’s why I’m here… for closure. You understand, right?”
He spins in a circle, tangling the leash around his legs. I lead him toward a tree and tie the leash around it. “I’ll be back.” Then I point at him. “Sit,” I order. He sits. He’s a champ of a dog, well-behaved and completed puppy training first in his class. I told Dylan all this in one of the letters I’d never send him.
I face the cliff again, my heart now beating out of my chest. I shrug out of my shirt and shorts and stand in my one-piece swimsuit, preparing myself for the battle ahead of me. For a second I think about Dylan, think about what he’s doing right now and if he ever feels what I’m feeling. When he’s face to face with danger, weapon drawn… does he ever feel ready?
Probably not.
But he does it anyway.
Because he’s tough and he’s brave and he’s everything he encourages me to be.
With tears welling in my eyes, I take the first step.
Toward the cliff.
Toward my past.
Toward my pain.
My fists ball at my sides, my footsteps heavy as I make my way up the path I’d tried so hard to forget.
I try to ignore the voices in my head. Not mine. Not even Dylan’s. But Jeremy’s.
“I think I’m afraid of heights.”
“This is bad. This is really fucking bad.”
I wipe the tears released with my sob and put one foot in front of the other, my mind screaming to turn around—my heart doing the opposite—until the tears are endless and the sobs are loud and I’m standing at the top of the cliff, the otherwise perfect sky clouded with memories of Jeremy.
“I love you.” I hear it over and over—the last words he ever spoke—words I laughed at and never repeated.
Not to him.
I stand in the middle of the clearing, my eyes drifting shut and my fingers digging into my palms. I feel the heat of the sun warm my skin, feel the wind whirling around me, hear the ebb and flow of the water beneath me. I inhale deeply, hoping it’ll help to calm my nerves and the immense emotions hitting me, drowning me, slowly killing me.
I cover my mouth, muffling my cry and turn swiftly.
Away from the edge.
Away from my past.
Away from my pain.
“I was wondering if you’d ever come up,” a deep male voice says from behind me.
I know the voice.
I’ve heard it so many times since Dylan left.