Page 81 of Wilde Hearts

My father cleared his throat as he stepped back and pushed his fingers through his hair. “Your mother will be worried if she thinks I’m upset.”

Ensley smiled at my father with so much love. It only served to remind me of what a wonderful woman she was.

“I’m going to join your mom downstairs.”

“Okay, Dad.”

We both watched as he made his way down the steps. Then, turning to face the door, Ensley took a deep breath, wrapped my hand in hers…and reached for the knob.

Ensley

The door creaked ever so slightly as I pushed it open. It had been ten long years since I’d set foot in this room. After Grady’s death, I came up here to see if I could find a note or something that he may have left behind. I hadn’t searched in depth; I figured if he’d left something, it would be visible. When I couldn’t find anything relatively quickly, I walked out, shut the door, and never came back. It was just too painful, being in my best friend’s space.

Colt let go of my hand as we walked into the room. He turned in a circle while exhaling a long breath.

“Where do we even start?”

“His clothes? I brought up some large black bags your mother gave me for those. She mentioned taking them to the orphanage.”

Colt nodded. “Makes sense to put the clothes in bags.”

He walked over to Grady’s small closet and opened it. When he didn’t move, I stepped over to stand next to him.

“Do you want me to do this?”

Turning to look at him, I saw he was smiling.

“He had the worst taste in clothes.”

I couldn’t help it; I laughed. “He really did.”

“Fuck, I miss him.”

Sliding my arm around his waist, I rested my head on his arm. “I know. I miss him, too.”

We stood there for a few moments before Colt nodded his head. “I’ll get to work on the closet. Do you mind cleaning out the dresser? After the clothes, we can go through his personal items. It still feels a bit…”

“Intrusive?”

He looked at me. “Yeah. Doesn’t it?”

“It does, yes. But it’s something we need to do.”

“Yeah,” he replied, as he reached in and grabbed a handful of shirts. He removed the hangers, tossing them into a pile on the floor, then he folded the clothes before placing them in one of the large bags.

At the long and low dresser, I smiled as I reached out and picked up a frame. It held a photo of Grady and Colt sitting on the tailgate of Colt’s old Ford F-150. They had their arms around each other as they smiled into the camera. The photo was taken by me, a year or so before Grady’s death.

Setting the photo down, I picked up another. It was a family Christmas photo. I ran my finger over Grady’s handsome face. It would be his last Christmas, but none of us knew that at the time. I held the photo to my chest, closed my eyes, and focused on keeping the tears at bay. No wonder Lynn and Jacob didn’t ever want to come into the room.

I set the frame down and pulled open the top right drawer.

“I cannot believe how many T-shirts Grady had,” Colt said. “He has this same one in five different colors. And who hangs up T-shirts?”

I laughed. “Grady did.”

Colt returned my laugh with one of his own.

I reached into the drawer and pulled out a white envelope that read “Granby Ophthalmologist Center.” Under the envelope was a small leather book. My hand started to shake as I set the envelope down and stared at the brown book, a memory popping into my head.