Graveminder. Melissa Marr

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      Looking unconvinced, he walked away.

      Rebekkah extended the handle of her bag, picked up Cherub, and headed toward the rental-car desk. One step at a time. A few minutes later, keys in hand, she turned away from the counter and almost dropped Cherub.

      A man in a pair of jeans, boots, and a well-worn leather jacket stood in front of her. His hair was a little longer than usual, brushing his collar, but the familiar green eyes watching her warily hadn’t changed.

      “Byron?”

      The temptation to throw herself into his arms the way she once had was overwhelming, but he kept his distance.

      “It’s been a while,” he started, and then paused. He raked his hand through his hair and gave her a tense smile before continuing, “I know we didn’t part on the best terms, but I thought I’d make sure you were settled in.”

      She stared at him, her Byron, here. The past few years had given him more edges, shadows where his cheeks looked too sharp and his eyes too worried, but the gestures were unchanged—so was the wariness.

      I earned that.

      “I didn’t know you were back,” she said foolishly. Her hand tightened on Cherub’s carrier as they stood there in the sort of awkward silence she’d dreaded when she thought about seeing him again.

      After a few moments, he held out a hand for her bag. “Let me get that.”

      When he reached out, she jerked her hand away quickly so as to avoid touching him.

      The tightening of his expression made clear that he noticed, but he took the bag and motioned for her to precede him.

      They’d gone several silent steps when he said, “I’ve been here for a few months now.”

      “I didn’t know. Maylene didn’t tell me.” She didn’t tell him that she hadn’t—wouldn’t have—asked Maylene either. Rebekkah had figured out that dealing with Byron was best done by pretending he didn’t exist, that he was as dead to her as Ella. Managing that feat was a lot harder with him walking beside her. Rather than look at him, she looked at the tag on the keys in her hand, staring at them even though she knew the make and model. “The last she’d mentioned you was … I don’t know when. I thought you lived in Nashville or somewhere down that way—not that I was checking up on you.”

      “I know that.” He gave her a wry smile, and then took a deep breath and changed the conversation back to safer territory. “I’ve only been back a few months. Since late December.”

      “Oh.” Lack of sleep and grief were apparently making her foolish because she admitted, “I was here at Christmas.”

      “I thought you might be, so I didn’t come back until after Christmas.” He walked with her to the rental-car lot. “I didn’t figure either of us needed to deal with … any of it then, so I waited till I thought you’d be gone back to wherever you were.”

      She wasn’t sure what to say. This is what I wanted, what I asked of him. Unfortunately, standing in the deserted lot, jet-lagged, grief-stricken, and lost, made her want to forget all of that. You’re the one who told him to stay out of your life, she lectured herself as if the words would keep her good sense intact.

      But as they walked, his already whiskey-deep voice broke the silence: “I told myself I’d stay out of your way, and I will if you want, but I couldn’t … I needed to make sure you got in safely. I said I’d give you your distance, and I have. I will. I just want you to know I’m here if you need a friend the next few days.”

      Rebekkah didn’t know how to reply. They had said words much like those to each other for almost a decade. Since when Ella was still alive. Rebekkah knew it was safer not to look at him, wiser not to let herself go there. She glanced at him and then quickly looked at the car in front of them. “It’s this one.”

      “Pop the trunk.”

      She did so, and he put the bag in while she put Cherub’s carrier in the backseat. Then she stood unsurely at the door.

      He held out a hand, which she looked at blankly. When she didn’t move, he said, “You’ve been up all night. You’re exhausted and upset.” He uncurled her fingers and gently took the keys. “Let me drive you to the house. No strings, Bek.”

      “Your car—”

      “Bike. It’s a bike, not the same one I had before but … Anyhow, it’ll be fine here.” He walked around and opened the passenger door. “Let me do this. I can’t fix much of anything, but … It’s a good hour or more to town, and … well, I’m here already. Let me be a friend tonight. After that, if you want me gone, I’ll do my best to stay out of your sight.”

      “Thanks for meeting me and for offering to—for being a friend,” she said, and then she got into the passenger seat before she did throw herself into his arms. He was the one person who had stood by her side during the two worst things in her life—Ella’s death and Jimmy’s—and now he was here, ready to help her get through a third one. Despite the times she’d stolen away in the middle of the night, the words she’d hurled at him, the calls and visits she’d ignored, he was still willing to help her keep it together.

      There were a lot of things she ought to say, apologies, explanations, maybe even excuses, but she was silent as he opened the driver’s-side door and got into the car—and he didn’t push her. He never had.

      As they left the lot, Rebekkah relaxed for the first time since she’d received the call. He was the one person left in the world who truly knew her, flaws and all. It felt both comforting and unreal to sit next to Byron. When she’d moved to Claysville during high school, he’d been Ella’s boyfriend, but instead of ignoring Rebekkah, he made sure to include her—enough that she’d thought about him being more than a friend, enough that once, just once, she’d crossed that line.

      Then Ella had died.

      Afterward, Rebekkah had had a difficult time staying on the right side of the line, and over the years, she’d been in and out of his bed, but it always ended the same way: Byron wanted more than she could give him.

      She stole a fleeting look at his ring finger, and he pretended not to notice.

      “Do you need to stop anywhere?” he asked.

      “No. Maybe. I’m not really sure.” She took a deep breath. “I expect that the cupboards … that food isn’t an issue.”

      “No.” Byron tore his gaze from the dark road only long enough to glance her way. A hesitant look flickered over his shadowed face. “They haven’t started bringing too many covered dishes, but there’s sure to be a few in the fridge.”

      “Nothing changes here, does it?” she murmured.

      “Not really.” He made a sound that might’ve been a laugh. “It’s like the world outside stops at the town line.”

      “Is your dad okay?”

      “He’s pretending to be.” Byron paused as if weighing his words and then settled on, “You know he loved her?”

      “I do.”

      Rebekkah rested her head against the passenger-door window. “I feel like I’ve come untethered. She is—was…”

      When her voice faltered, he reached over and laced his fingers with hers.

      “She was my rock. No matter how often I moved, how many jobs I failed at, how much I fucked up everything. She was my home, my whole family—not that Mom’s not great, she is, but she’s … I don’t know, after Ella, then Jimmy … Sometimes, I don’t think Mom ever recovered from losing them. Maylene believed in me. She thought I was better than I am, better than I could ever be. Her love wasn’t choking, but it wasn’t something I had to feel guilty asking for either.” Rebekkah felt the tears well up again and blinked against blurred vision. “I feel like everything’s