"Two souls are sometimes created together and in love before they're even born." -F. Scott Fitzgerald
When eight year old Beau Ruby met twelve year old Colton Caine, she had no idea she was meeting the love of her life. She had no idea she'd grow...
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When I woke up, I wanted the sun to disappear. I didn't want to face a day without Verne. I didn't want to accept the fact that she was gone. I didn't want to plan her funeral. I didn't want to live in a world where she wasn't alive, hands deep in the dirt tending flowers or deep in flower baking something sweet. I didn't want to be without her.
I felt an overwhelming sense of grief and despair. It was the kind of grief that threatens to swallow you whole. I didn't know how I'd survive it. I didn't know how I'd ever be happy again.
I tried to roll over in my bed, but everything hurt. I whimpered, my body feeling sore and stiff. I didn't know where Colton was, but I was aware of the fact that pillows were still piled on my bed where he had been. He'd slept next to me, and I was confused by that.
As if summoned, he appeared in my doorway. "You're awake," he said, his voice surprised. "How do you feel?" I started to speak, but instead I burst into tears. At this point, I would have assumed I had no tears left, but I did. He gently pulled me into a sitting position, despite my gasps and whimpers of pain. His arms snaked around my shoulders, and he pulled me against his body. "Shhh," he whispered. "It's okay."
He kept saying it, and I knew he was only saying it to try to make me believe it. I knew Colton, and Colton never wanted to see me cry. I knew he kept saying it because he wanted it to be true. He wanted it—and me—to be okay.
I turned my head, laying my cheek against his shirt over his stomach. He placed a hand on top of my head and brushed his fingers through my hair. It was as comforting as it could possibly be in the moment, and I had to remind myself that Colton wasn't mine anymore.
I finally leaned away from him and wiped my face with my non-casted hand before I looked up at him. "Thank you for staying here last night," I whispered. I felt like I didn't have the energy to speak loudly. I didn't have the strength to start a new conversation.
He nodded his head. "Of course," he replied, "I wasn't leaving you." His voice was genuine, and I knew he meant it. He wouldn't leave. I knew he'd be here all day today. He'd hold my hand at the funeral. He'd be there for every step until I got through this... and then, he'd go back to Jamie.
The funeral.
"The funeral..." I started, and he shook his head. "It's done," he replied. "You don't even have to go to the funeral home. Verne had already planned everything. Literally everything, Beau. Even down to what she wanted to wear. She paid for it all in advance. She didn't want you to have to plan her funeral one day."
Of course it was done. Aunt Verne was taking care of me even in death. I couldn't reply, so I just nodded, thankful for the news that I didn't have to walk through a room of caskets and pick the right one. I didn't have to pick out a cemetery plot or try to plan her service.
He spoke again, trying to fill the silence. "How do you feel? Are you hungry?" I shook my head in response to both questions. He sighed before tentatively adding, "How about a bath? Anna said there's probably glass shards still in your hair. I could wash it for you."
