“Hey,” he says, the door half open. “How’d you like the new workbench Riley got you?”

Fifty-Two

Dylan

I hadn’t been in the garage since I’d been discharged from the hospital. I had no reason to. It was empty. No cars. No engine for me to work on. Besides, when it came to avoiding memories of Riley, the garage was as bad as the bedroom, if not worse. Maybe that’s why it took an entire day and four hours of tossing and turning in bed, unable to find enough calm to sleep before I throw the covers off and make my way out there. I take a calming breath before opening the door and when I do, a million different emotions hit me at once.

Riley caught me on Pinterest once (shut up) looking at garage set-ups. I shut the screen quickly and told her I was just bored. Like most guys look at porn, I was looking at workbenches, dreaming that one day I’d have something similar.

Now the image that was on the screen is real and I’m fucking touching it.

I don’t know when she did it. I don’t know how Jake knew about it and I didn’t. Right now, I don’t know much of anything.

There’s an empty jar in the middle of the bench, just like the ones she used to store her letters to Jeremy. I pick it up, my eyes squinting as I read the letters written in black marker: DYLAN.

I’m not exactly sure when I stopped breathing, but reading my name makes me start again. Only now, each breath is heavier and harder to get through.

I lean against the counter, moving the crutches aside so I can hold the jar in one hand phone in the other. A picture of her shows up on my screen as I fight a war in my head over whether to call her or not. Hearing her voice might just be my undoing.

Dylan: I hadn’t seen the garage untilxnow.

Riley: ?

Dylan: Workbench.

Riley: Wow. I’d forgotten about it. I’m sorry.

Dylan: Why are you sorry?

Riley: You’re not mad?

Dylan: Whyxwould I be mad?

Riley: I thought you’d be angry at me because I got rid of your old one.

I read her text over and over, trying to figure out why the hell she would think that. Then I remember the smashed mirror in our bathroom, the times I’d yelled at her and used my anger to push her away, and it all makes sense.

Dylan: Thank you, Riley.

I stare at the screen, my hands gripping the phone tighter as I wait for her to respond. When enough time passes and I realize she has nothing left to say, I place the jar and the phone on the bench and stand in the middle of the room, my hands gripping the crutches as I circle slowly, getting lost in the memories created in this space.

My gaze catches on a stack of boxes in the corner of the room. All labeled Jeremy. I didn’t stop her from bringing them with her when we moved in. And now they’re here and she’s not and it makes no sense. I make the decision to give them to Jake next time he comes by so he can give them back to her.

It’s only after I’ve struggled—my leg aching and my chest burning—to move three of the boxes that I see more jars filled with letters stacked behind them. They’re not Jeremy’s, though. They have the same writing as the one on the bench, same black marker, same name.

I drop the box in my hand and stare at the jars. There are over twenty of them, all filled to the rim. I don’t think twice. I grab two. Sit down on the cold concrete of the garage floor, and I do what I can to prepare myself for my heart’s imminent destruction.

Dylan,

I love you.

I miss you.

Bryce, that vet from work, and Heidi are dating now. It’s serious. Not sure why I wanted to tell you. I just did. I think there’s a part of me that wonders if you worry whether she’s happy. She is. At least, that’s what they both tell me. And I’m happy for them.

Riley.

Dylan,

I love you.

I miss you.

So… don’t be mad, but I brought a cat home from the shelter. (Sorry.) She was just so sad and cute and I couldn’t help it. I named her Maple. Bacon and Maple. Get it? She was home two days before the Kline kids next door saw her and I guess they started giving her milk and food because they thought she was a stray. She does look like one. They named her—wait for it… Dog!

I spoke to Mrs. Kline about it and said I’d be happy to take her back but she said her kids would be devastated. Her kids had gotten super attached to her in the two days they’d had her. So, now I guess the neighbors have a cat. They’re coming by tomorrow to look for a friend for Dog the cat. That’s two cats I’m saving. I know it’s nothing like what you do… but I kind of feel like a hero in a sense.

Riley.

Dylan,

I love you.

I miss you.

I went to your dad’s house today for his birthday. It wasn’t anything big—you know your dad—but Sydney and I made him a cake and got him presents. Did you ever buy your dad presents? And if you did, did you wrap them? Because swear he looked like a kid on Christmas morning when he unwrapped them. It was so cute, D. I wish you were there. Eric got him some fancy new version of that board game Battleship. I assume it means something to you guys because I swear he teared up a little. Sydney and I—well, we spent five hours at the mall trying to think of something for him and we came back with flannel shirts, socks and an old car calendar! I know, we suck, but your dad is the hardest person to buy things for. Mom was there too. She got him a beard grooming kit. I spent five hours at the mall and she came up with something that was actually useful to him.

But the best part of the night was when we brought out his cake. His smile got so wide. Then when we sat the cake in front of him, he looked up at me and did something amazing.

He offered me his wishes, babe.

I told him I couldn’t, and that he should make the wish.

He took my hand, got up from his seat and made me sit down. Then he said, “I have everything I need right here. I have my family.”

I know it’s wrong to reveal your wishes, but I wished for you to come home to us. To all of us. So we can all be a family again.

I love you, Dylan.

I love you and I love your family.

I love that they accept me for everything I am and they care for and protect me and I just miss you.

I miss you so much, babe.

Forever yours,

Riley.

Dylan,

I love you.

I miss you.

I spent the day in bed with Bacon. I had this horrible dream last night and I guess I woke up and wasn’t really up for functioning like a human. It was four in the afternoon when I got up to use the bathroom when I felt weak and got dizzy. I had to hold on to the sink in the bathroom to keep standing. I realized it was because I hadn’t eaten all day. I still couldn’t eat.

I think it’s because I saw on the news last night that a life was lost out there, where you are. They didn’t give names or which branch of military—something about respecting the families. It’s dumb. Now all the other military families are out there wondering if it’s their loved one.

Then when I finally got to sleep I had the worst nightmare ever. It’s not like it was the first time I dreamed about it… me under water… my body weak, lungs and eyes burning, searching for the body… tasting the blood in my mouth. Only it wasn’t Jeremy down there. It was you. Your face was white and your beautiful blue eyes stared back at me. I woke up in a cold sweat and ran straight to the bathroom and puked—which did nothing to take away the taste of blood in my mouth. I tried washing it out. It didn’t work.