Page 127 of The Other Side

Somehow, I became the hunky man Callie was wooed by that night when we were just sixteen years old. Right before I kissed the hell out of her on a dark and dirt road.

“What’s your name, kid?” I ask him.

“Grant.”

Grant.

Brant.

You can’t make this shit up.

“Grant,” I start, “you’ll be just fine. Trust me.”

Chapter 37

Callie Rae

My fingers run along the brushed bronze of Momma’s memorial plaque. It’s embedded in the rich lawn, and I shift so that my legs curl at my side. My jeans chafe against the grass as I brace my free palm on the ground.

Then my eyes cut to Daddy’s plate beside hers. The subtle breeze whispers through the stray strands from my high ponytail, and I’m caught in a brief trance.

Brant insisted he keep his distance, idled beside his Tacoma along the curb behind me. My chin slopes up, eyes tracing the golden frame of a white, puffy cloud. The ragged pulse of my heart begins to smooth over, and I absorb the serenity.

My gaze scans the engraved letters of my parents’ names, my forefinger trailing over the polished metal. “I always thought that if I visited you both, I’d want to unleash all the pain you’ve ever caused me.” I absently lift my eyes, blankly staring at the thick trunk of an oak tree in the distance. “All I ever wanted was your love.” My head wags. “That’s all I ever wanted,” I whisper.

I slant my chin down, peeling my hand from Momma’s plaque to rest it on the denim around my thigh. My fingertips rub the coarse fabric, my stare stationed. “But this is nice,” I say softly. A tear stabs the corner of my eyelid. “Calm.” I wet my lips, fingers plucking at a crinkle in the hem of my t-shirt. “I could come back.” A breathy laugh slips from me, and I softly pop a shoulder. “It sounds a little crazy, but maybe we could start over,” I offer.

As soon as the last word leaves me, more tears travel down my cheek.

“I could tell you about my life and what’s going on. And then I could listen to your stories.” I fold my mouth, pausing for a beat. “Even you, Daddy.” My throat rolls, and I force the sun to thaw any spare love I have for him. “I’m still so angry, but by some miracle, I’ve harbored enough love to be able to give some to you now.” A rumble triggers across my bottom lip, and I swipe a fresh tear away. “We could make it how it should’ve been.”

Another tear pops free, but my forearm catches it as quick as it emerges.

“I always wished for a better family when I was a kid. One that was kinder and warmer. But as I’ve grown, I realized I was praying for the wrong thing.”

I inhale a sniffle, my chest rigid. Then I reach an arm out to touch Momma’s plaque.

“I should’ve wished for you two to be healthier,” I breathe. My fingers affectionately caress the plate, and I roughly inhale.

“Not just so you could love me the way I needed you to, but for the both of you to live a happier life.” My face contorts, blunt grief creeping into me as it bolts my heartbeat in place. “Everybody would’ve won,” I whisper.

A languid smile creeps across my mouth, my eyes tracing the carved letters in the brushed bronze. The lush grass—bright and green—frames their tiny memorials, and I envision a future.

“I could even bring your grandkids when they’re here. If you’d like … I don’t know.”

I lay my hand back on my jean-clad thigh. My eyes volley between the two rectangular plates, swelling with new tears as the quiet wind slaps my face.

“Thank you,” I sob. “You didn’t mean to, and it wasn’t on purpose, but you introduced me to the most beautiful person I’ll ever know in my entire existence. I’m sure of it.” I crush my eyes shut, a few more tears liberated before I open them again. “Or maybe deep down you knew you couldn’t love me enough, so your heart forced you to lead me to him.” My lenses cloud with the glints of light from above. “Without you, I wouldn’t have a dove to fly with.”

My chest rattles as I heave a sniffle, my lips quivering as I nod.

“We’re gonna be okay. All of us.” I gulp, swallowing my remaining tears. A tremor wracks through my entire body, and I finally touch Daddy’s memorial plaque. Somehow, the anger isn’t as intense as I imagined it would be. Instead, it’s mellowed by the bright sky above.

A new day has come.

“We’ll do it right this time around,” I breathe. “We’ll do it right.”

I sniffle just as Brant walks up behind me. His hands rest on my shoulders, and my palm parks over one.