“We don’t have to do this,” he murmurs, his finger on my chin forcing me to look at him. “If you’re not ready, we can wait… or we don’t ever have to do this.”

“I want to,” I whisper, my eyes now trailing down his body, past his board shorts, to his bare feet. “I want to do this with you.”

Our steps are slow as we climb the cliff. He never lets go of my hand. I never let go of my fear. We stop at the top, at the clearing that brings back too many memories. I freeze, wiping the tears off my cheek. Dylan turns to me, his eyes instantly on mine. “Where is it?” he asks, and I point to the tree where Jeremy’s plaque sits below.

He leads me over to it, only releasing my hand so he can squat down in front of it. “Your life is your legacy,” he reads out loud. I kneel next to him, ignoring the pain from the rocks beneath my weight. “It makes sense.” He looks at me. “You were his life… and now you’re his legacy.”

I sit on my heels and wonder why the hell we chose to do this. In theory, coming here seemed like the perfect idea. But now… “What’s wrong?” Dylan asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

“It’s dumb.”

“So tell me anyway.”

“I feel like I’m… I don’t know… rubbing you in his face.”

He chuckles lightly.

I slap his arm. “I told you it was dumb.”

He scoots further away from me. “It’s not dumb, Ry. I’m laughing because it’s exactly how I thought you’d be.”

My eyes widen. “Really?”

He nods, a sad smile pulling on his lips. “Remember what I told you, Ry. It doesn’t have to be either/or with us.”

“I know… but it’s different now.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to be your wife, Dylan. It has to be different.”

He sighs before looking down at the jar in his hand. “You don’t think I thought about all this before asking you to marry me? I know who you are, Ry. I know where your heart lies and I know that a piece of him will always be with you. It doesn’t change my love for you, and unless you let it, it won’t change the way you love me, either.” He leans forward, his hand on my cheek and his lips on mine. When he pulls back, he smiles again. Not the same sad one he showed earlier, but a smile only I’m privy to. “Can you give us a minute? I need to have a man to man chat with the kid.”

I hold my breath as I nod and stand up. Then I walk to the edge of the cliff, where I sit, my eyes on the horizon and my heart spread wide. Fragments of it lay in the bottom of the lake and the rest of it—the majority of it—is up here with me.

There are no words, no amount of unwritten letters to ever describe the emotions that built from the moment we drove up the winding road, to the moment we got out of the car and stripped out of our clothes—to this… the point in my life where I share everything with the two people who have shown me more than enough love to last a lifetime… no matter how short that life was or will become.

I don’t know how much time passes before Dylan’s footsteps approach, the loose gravel crunching beneath his feet. “All done,” he says, sitting next to me.

I look over at the tree, the plaque and the jar in front of it. “Did you say what you needed to?” I ask him.

Dylan nods, then he shifts until he’s sitting behind me, his legs on either side and his arms around my waist. “Are you looking for something?”

It takes a long time for me to come up with a response. “Not looking so much as appreciating.”

He kisses my shoulder. “Appreciating what, babe?”

I turn to him, a smile already in place. “My reality. Your calm.” I motion to the horizon and place my hand on his chest. “It’s all here.”

We sit on the cliff, waiting until the sun turns the sky an eerie orange before standing up, our hands locked as we take a few steps back. “You ready, Hudson?”

I nod. “I’m ready, Banks.”

We run.

We jump.

We fall.

Deeper.

Harder.

In love.

Dylan

We spent an hour or so surrounded by the warmth of water, her arms and legs around me as we floated in the very place that created her grief and introduced her to heartache. I held her while she laughed, while she cried, and while she loved. And when it was time, she looked up at me, smiled her perfect smile, and said, “I’m ready.” And I knew she was.

Really. Truly. Ready.

And me? I was ready the moment she said yes.

We towel dry and don’t bother getting dressed before we start the long drive through the night and into the early hours of the next morning, where we find a hotel, book separate rooms and spend the night apart. Because even though we may not be doing things the “right” way, there are still some traditions she wants to hold on to. And whatever Riley wants, Riley gets. Even if it means spending the entire night texting each other while she’s in the next room.

Riley: I miss you. Come bacccccck.

Dylan: You wanted this, remember. But hey… if you’re lonely. You know where to find me.

Riley: Are you naked?

Dylan: Give me two seconds.

Dylan: Now I am.

Riley: LOL! You work fast.

Dylan: Are you coming?

Riley: No. I should stick to my plans. Sorry I made you get naked.

Dylan: I didn’t get naked. I’m eating cake.

Riley: Why would you say that then?

Dylan: You think I don’t know you, babe? You were never going to come in here.

Riley: You better be waiting for me tomorrow.

Dylan: You better show up.

Riley: I love you, Banks.

Dylan: I love you more, Hudson.

Like so many nights in my past, I don’t sleep. I can’t. But this time—it’s not because of the nightmares. It’s because of the dreams. I lie awake, dreaming of our future and all the absolute possibilities. I picture her smiles, her laughs, her insecurities and her sadness—and I’ve never been so sure about anything in my entire life… I want to have all of her. I want to have it all.

I wait until the right time before I get dressed and stand tall in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. It’s been a long time since I’d worn my dress blues.

My eyes focus on the Purple Heart medal attached to my jacket. Until today, it’d sat in its box. I never looked at it long enough to study it. I didn’t feel worthy of it. Today, I finally do.

* * *

The sun beats down, the grass dry beneath my shoes. I stand tall, my head lowered, my trembling fingers causing my hat to shake in my hands. “You nervous, son?” the celebrant asks. He’s old, but licensed, and the only one we contacted who was able to do what we wanted in the time we wanted it done.

“Yes. Sir,” I tell him, switching my hat in my hands so I can rub my sweaty palms on my pants.

He smiles and nods, then looks around us, rocking on his heels. “Beautiful day out…” he murmurs, and I return his nod. “Not as beautiful as her, though.” He points to my left, where Riley’s stepping out of a town car, pulling out the train of her dress.

For a second, I regret our choice to make this moment private. It’s not right that only myself and the man standing next to me are lucky enough to witness her looking as beautiful as she does. Her veil does nothing to hide the power of her smile when she spots us waiting for her. She thanks the driver, who closes the door after her.