Page 73 of Fragile hearts

“She was trying to help him. She was so close. Her hands were touching the mattress.”

As if she can hear us, Alexis whines softly. I press a kiss to her hair until she relaxes in my hold. “She remembers everything now. All the details, the things he said. Everything…I don’t know how exactly. I think her mind must have locked the memories away—”

“Because it was too painful to remember,” Asher finishes.

I nod. Leaning my head back against the pillow, listening to the sound of Alexis’s soft breaths. I run my hand over her back. Asher leans his head in his hands, exhaling hard. His foot tapping against the floorboard.

“Cars?” The words are a soft whisper against my chest.

“I’m here, baby.”

Alexis groans, rubbing her eye, stretching her legs. I loosen my arms, allowing her to roll away and sit upright. Her head leans against the headboard.

“How are you feeling?”

She shrugs a shoulder. “Okay, I guess.” Asher looks at me worriedly.

“I feel like…” She sighs. “Is it weird that I feel like I have more closure now? I know the killer is still out there, but—” she cocks her head before continuing. “I don’t know, I always thought that I could have done more to help him, but now I know that I tried my best. I hate that they lied to me, but for some reason I’m also glad.” Her voice breaks on the last word.

“He didn’t die alone. I know he was scared, but he was still thinking of me, and he died being held. I couldn’t help him, but at least he didn’t die alone on that mattress.”

I wrap my arm around her shoulder, pulling her into me. She leans her head against my chest. “I hate that my memory of him is tainted now. For fifteen years, I believed he didn’t feel a single thing, but now I know he experienced it all, and I don’t know what to do with that.”

“You keep remembering him for who he was, and not who he became. He’s still the bright little boy you remember, and he always will be.” I say I hate that she’s feeling like this. I wish I could take all her pain away.

“He was very loved, Alexis,” Asher adds gently. “He knew that. You were the last person he thought about, and I know he would be very proud of the person you are today.”

Alexis breathes shakily, her eyes meeting mine. “Can we go see him?”

“Of course we can, baby.” I press a kiss on her forehead, my lips lingering for a second before pulling away.

“How about we eat some dinner? After that, we’ll get some flowers for his grave. Okay?”

She nods, leaning over, kissing me. “Thank you. For taking care of me.”

“Always baby, always.”

I hear her mutter something about pie as she walks downstairs. I turn to follow. Asher grabs my shoulder. “Thank you.”

I nod, giving him the same answer I had given Alexis. “Always.”

Alexis

I have never been to a cemetery before. I’ve never lost someone other than Micah. He was my only family. I didn’t have friends growing up. The only people that surrounded me were my fair share of foster parents and the kids I lived with. But I wasn’t close with any of them. None of my foster parents left me a good impression. I wouldn’t visit their grave if they died. Some weren’t horrible. They just weren’t present. And I couldn’t call the other kids exactly friends. All of us were living in unfortunate circumstances, and we bonded over that. We never played together or told each other our secrets. But I tried to protect them from the people we were living with, especially the young ones.

Carson is holding my hand as he leads us to Micah’s grave. He doesn’t need to show me which gravestone belongs to my brother. I see it from a few feet away.

A large granite stone stands in the middle of an empty grass field. It has a picture of my brother’s face carved into it. He’s smiling wide, showing his toothless gap. And I swear I can see a twinkle in his eyes. His name is written underneath in a beautiful Serif font, with his date of birth and the day he died underneath. But it’s the decoration surrounding it that overwhelms me the most. There are flowers everywhere. On the gravestone, in the grass. All different kinds, roses, tulips, in every color you could think of. They are fresh, as if someone placed them there recently. But it’s the toys that bring tears to my eyes. They’re all Mickey Mouse themed: cars, plush toys, little dolls, even a big one made out of LEGO.

“What—how…” I look over at Carson. “You did this?”

He nods, smiling down at me. “Everyone in town donated some money for his gravestone. So he has the best resting spot he could have. He is getting fresh flowers a few times a week, for the past fifteen years. My mom used to do it, but I took it over from her.”

Tears threaten to escape, but I bite my lip, holding them in. “When?”

“When did I take it over?”

“Yeah.”