That's a Lie (Promises, Promises #2)

By Victoria Klahr

Seth is back.

When he walked back into my life, it almost felt like the pieces of my broken heart could be fixed. I thought we could go back to being best friends, but then I started to feel what I had been blocking out for years. I tried. Boy, did I try! But once I started to let him in, I wanted nothing more than to cross that line from friendship into something more...

Just when I think I can move on and let myself be happy, an ugly reminder from my past comes storming in and threatens to destroy the sliver of hope that's been growing since Seth came back.

Do I even deserve to be loved?

“I’m not asking to fix your heart. I’m not asking to mend you. I love each and every shattered piece of you. I’m asking that you let me love you. Let me love each piece of your broken heart, and I swear to you I will make up for every heartache you have ever experienced.”

I came back for Josie.

I knew I'd have to fight for her, but with the loss of her dad and the truth about what happened with her and Blake, I quickly realized that making her mine was going to be a lot harder than I first thought. The problem is, I can’t pretend like she’s just my best friend. I can’t pretend I don’t want more.

I'm willing to do anything to get her to admit she has the same passionate feelings for me, because I know once she opens up and stops lying to herself, I can show her what it really means to be loved. It's a battle of wills, but my love for her is stronger than her will to stop me.

So I fight for her. I fight because I know she deserves it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Victoria Klahr
• Release date: May 31, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311678584

Victoria Klahr

Victoria Klahr lives in Virginia Beach, Virginia with her dreamy husband of four years and their two beautiful daughters. She is a self-proclaimed book-nerd who likes to sniff books before she reads them and fantasizes about book boyfriends. She is the author of the Promises, Promises series, including That’s a Promise, That’s a Lie, and That’s a Relief. She writes happily-ever-afters one heartache and tragedy at a time, and won’t apologize for making you cry.

Book preview

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

That's a 

Lie

Victoria Klahr

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual events or local or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. 

Published by Victoria Klahr Books

Virginia Beach, VA 23454

www.victoriaklahrwrites.blogspot.com 

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any for whatsoever.

Copyright © 2014, 2015, 2016, Victoria Klahr

All rights reserved.

Cover by Samantha Bagood

Edited by Bethany Root

For Stephen―who never gave up on me and showed me the truth and intensity of what it means to be fought for.

They say that love is forever. Your forever is all that I need.

- Sleeping with Sirens, 

If I'm James Dean, You're Audrey Hepburn

Prologue 

Josie 

Pretty, pretty, pretty please. With a cherry on top? I begged, pouting my lips. He stared at me with a look that said really? He clearly didn't want to give in to my pitiful pleading.

Just this one time, I tried again. We never get to play anything I want.

That's such a lie, Josie. I always play your stupid games, Seth complained, crossing his arms. His blond hair overlapped his blue-green eyes, but I could still see his frustration easily. I wasn't going to give up. 

This will be the last time I ask for the rest of the summer, I reasoned. I could probably keep that promise. 

He heaved a big sigh, as if agreeing to play with me was the biggest burden imaginable. "Ugh. You know I could never be with just one girl, Josie. There's no way I'll get married. Who would want to be stuck with a girl for the rest of his life?" he said, disgusted by the thought.

Seth! It's pretend. Stop being a baby and play wedding with me, I said, giving him my best evil glare, and even at seven years old I knew it was good enough to make him cave. 

Fine, but I will never love you like that in real life. That's so gross, he said, sticking out his tongue. 

"Uh, duh . . . It's pretend. My Prince Charming won't pick his nose and eat it. That's for sure," I responded, equally disgusted. 

"I do not do that," he complained. 

Yeah huh . . . I saw you.

No way . . . you're such a liar, he said, getting mad at me. 

Whatever, it doesn't matter, I said, pulling on his arm. I dragged him over to the tree in my backyard and made him stand to the right of it. Okay. You wait here for your beautiful bride. 

I ran to the bathroom inside my house and grabbed a whole roll of toilet paper. I tried to comb out the knots in my messy, long brown hair, but nothing worked, so I grunted and just stuck in a headband. I stood on the stool so I could see myself in the mirror, and then very carefully started to cut off long strands of toilet paper. I placed each piece underneath my headband, creating a long cotton veil. When I finished, I tried to scrub the dirt from my face, but couldn't get it all off and gave up quickly. 

I sprinted upstairs to my room, careful not to pull out any of the pieces of my veil, and put on my Cinderella princess dress and slippers. I grabbed my strawberry Lip Smackers from my jewelry box, and after applying a good layer, I smacked my lips, ready to go get pretend-married to Seth. 

I reached the sliding glass door and looked out into the backyard at my pretend groom. I couldn't wait until the day that I could really get married. It would be beautiful. I'd wear a beautiful poufy dress, and my dads would walk me down the aisle. I'd have the dream guy, tall, dark and handsome, waiting to spend the rest of his life with me. The stork would bring us beautiful babies, and we would live happily ever after. 

Instead, I pretended my best friend was the man of my dreams. Seth stood next to the tree, picking at the bark as he waited for me to get back. He was scrawny, with messy hair and skin covered in dirt, but I guessed he would have to do. In my seven-year-old mind that had been brainwashed by fairy tales and Disney movies, I never would’ve thought of Seth as marrying potential. 

When he heard me slide open the door, he turned around and smiled. 

He smiled at me! 

He had a big grin on his face the whole time I walked to him, and I couldn't help but giggle at our silly game. When I got to him, I shoved his shoulder. He pushed me back, and we ended up in the dirt, each of us trying to win our impromptu wrestling match.

What was I thinking? Get married to Seth Montgomery? 

Yuck!

July: Seven Years Old

June

Chapter 1

Josie 

When you build a relationship on secrets and lies, you start to question whether or not that relationship can ever be salvaged. 

First, you have to be able to forgive the betrayal—to say that it's okay that that person lied to you and kept things from you that were very important. Then you have to forget about the duplicity. Forget that they lied to you for hours, days, months, or years, so you can attempt to move on from the hurt that they caused you. 

I don't think that's possible. I don't think a person can just forget that their heart was ripped open after being lied to. I don't think a person can move on as if nothing happened. And I most certainly don't think a relationship can ever be the same when all the smoke subsides, and we're only left with the ashes of a broken heart. 

I'm not sad anymore. I shed no more tears for a person who turned out to be a hypocritical asshole, and I certainly feel no more warm-fuzzies when I think about him. He promised three times that he wouldn't let me go, and three times, I've had to endure the loss of him. There’s no way in hell I’ll put myself through that pain again. 

Blake Porter can go to Hell. 

Ugh, Seth grunts, scrunching up his face and grabbing his stomach. I go in for another punch, only with a little more strength and power behind my fist. 

Ugh, he grunts again. Jesus, Pussycat, not so hard.

Being weak isn't an option, Seth, I say with unwavering determination. 

I get back into ready stance and bounce on my toes to keep my momentum intact. I decide to change up my method and go for a kick. Using the strength in my core, I power my leg into his stomach. He grabs his abdomen and hunches over. 

Very good, Miss Sommers, Mr. Tucker says as he watches my defensive maneuvers. Seth looks up at me and gives me a menacing glare before rising back to full height. He may look intimidating, being a foot taller than me and a lot more muscular, but that doesn't deter me from wanting to kick his ass. 

"I'm so going to get you back for that," Seth says when the instructor passes to check on other students. 

I give him my best evil laugh to distract him before surprising him with another kick. Only he's not surprised, and he grabs my foot and twists it until I fall onto the floor mat. I groan as my stomach makes forceful impact onto the ground. Before I freak out and escape, Seth grips me hard, turns me over and pins my arms above my head. He straddles me in a way that is hard to escape, but I think back to all my training and try to remember a way out of this position. 

Don't freak out. Don't freak out. The problem with this position is that it’s too familiar. For all the years I've put into learning not to be a victim again, I'm shocked at how incompetent I become when I'm forced into the positions that remind me of that night six years ago. 

But then my fear turns to heat, changing when I realize exactly who is on top of me. Holding me. Touching me. I'm momentarily distracted as I see the corner of his lips lift and watch his blue-green eyes fill with humor at his victory.

A chill runs up my back and my heartbeat flutters rapidly against my chest as I stare at his handsome face—twenty-three years old with eyes that crinkle when he smiles, blond lashes a mile long, and the lushest lips I’ve ever seen. Tasted. 

I shake away the tingles, however futile the task is, and focus on escaping. I find my opportunity as he raises his hand to push some of his sandy blond hair out of his eyes. 

I use that small window of time to buck up my hips as hard as I can. When I raise my hips for the third time, he loses his balance and falls forward. He uses his hands to stop himself from landing face-first onto the mat. I roll out of his grip and grab his hands to bring his arms behind his back, putting my weight on him to keep him on the ground. Pride courses through my veins at my small win, and I hear Seth chuckle underneath me. 

Eighteen years we've been fighting, and you still kick my ass, he says. 

He's lying. I know that he could beat me easily if he wanted to, but he never uses his full strength when we're in class—he wants to give me the opportunity to perfect my self-defense skills. I shove his head playfully and get up. Mr. Tucker blows his whistle to get everyone's attention as Seth gets off the floor. 

As the instructor gives out final instructions, I feel Seth's shoulder brush against mine. The miniscule touch sends an enormous sense of alertness through my body. I freeze and hold my breath, debating whether or not I should glance over to see if he even notices the contact. 

He probably doesn't care anymore. He’s had two years to get over me. I decide to take the risk anyway, and I slowly drag my eyes in his direction. He's staring straight ahead, listening intently to what Mr. Tucker is saying. He doesn't notice our skin brushing. 

It's for the best. There's no reason for me to react this way around him, anyway. 

Of course I still feel a burst of pleasure every time he touches me… it’s been two years. When he came back two weeks ago, I was hit with a pound of shock. Clearly that’s why my emotions are out of whack. Right? I had gone so long without seeing him, touching him, hugging him. That’s why I feel such a pull toward him now. 

That has to be it. I just missed him. That's all. 

But it's a lie. A lie I've been telling myself since he's been back. But I force myself to think that way. To think of him only as my best friend. I need to think that way. Because Seth has always deserved so much more than what I did to him.

When I looked at Seth again in that bookstore two weeks ago, I knew that I wanted to be a better friend. I wanted to take back my life and stop being scared. 

***

I'm sorry it took me so long to get here, Pussycat, Seth said to me when he walked into Reading Haven.

My heart raced, and my face heated. Boo jumped out of my lap and strutted to Seth, rubbing against his leg. Seth's eyes never left mine. Depths of seafoam that I’d missed for so long.

He'd come back.

So many emotions rolled into me at once. I wanted to run up and jump into his arms. I wanted to punch him for leaving without telling me. But mostly, I wanted to say I was sorry, and I wanted to make everything better.

I stood up and put my hand on my hip. You better be sorry, Seth Montgomery . . . A fucking note? Are you kidding me? I said anger pulling throu the most.. Beneath my anger was hurt. And he knew it.

He left the country two years ago, and didn’t even tell me. His best friend! The sting was still as strong as it had been when I got the note from him saying I’m sorry. 

My pretense of anger couldn't match the thrill of finally seeing him again. I had gotten good at hiding my pain over his departure from my life, and this felt like a second chance that I didn't want to give up. Seth chuckled and dropped his backpack to the floor, slowly inching toward me.

Somehow I knew that was exactly what you were going to say, he said, a smile creeping up his face.

He looked incredible. His hair had grown a little bit, cropped short on the sides and long blond on top, still a sexy mess on top of his head—like he rolls out of bed and it's perfect. He dressed in black jeans and a black Young & Reckless T-shirt, with black Chucks to finish the look.  A roguish smile played on his lips… still melting my insides even though it shouldn’t.

And his eyes—those same blue-green eyes looked up and down my body, searching for the girl he used to know.

Seth was the only person who understood me, and no miles of distance or time between us would change that.  

He walked up to me until only about six inches stood between us. I'm sorry, Jos. I should have told you, I just co―, he started to clarify, but I didn't need an explanation right then.

I pushed myself the rest of the distance and crushed against him, wrapping my arms around the person I'd missed so much these last two years. I couldn't stop the prickle of tears as he wrapped his comforting arms around me and held me close to him.

My best friend was here! Back in North Carolina, and I wasn't going to waste that moment rehashing our problems.

I missed you so much, Seth, I choked between tears.

The tears started, and I wasn’t ashamed. He pulled back and looked me in the eyes, a mixture of sadness and happiness in his eyes. He wiped my tears, and his lips lifted in a small, sad smile. I buried my head back into his chest and breathed him in. He smelled like a mixture of hay and apple pie. Home. He smelled like home.

In a short embrace, Seth filled the hole that had kept growing since he'd left—and I didn't want to move from that spot.

I missed you more than you’ll ever know, Pussycat, Seth said softly, stroking my hair as he held me tight.

I thought that he had given up on our friendship when he left. Of course, he had every right.. A couple e-mails here and there was never enough.

I'm so sorry about your dad. I tried to find a way to get here as soon as I got the e-mail from my mom, but I was in a location with no service, so I didn't get the message until two days ago. She told me what happened when I got in this morning, he continued, stroking my hair as I held him close.

In my emotional state, the reminder about Daddy's passing only fueled more sobs. Seth continued to run his hands through my hair and rub my back as he held my weary body. When I didn't think I could cry any more tears, I pulled away from him and punched him in the bicep.

He grabbed his arm and chuckled. And somehow I knew you were going to do that, too, he said.

I wiped the tears from my face and tried to make myself look normal. Yeah . . . Well, you deserve it. Two goddamn years, Seth!

You know I had to leave, Pussycat. After everything . . . he swallowed hard, pleading me with his eyes. I just needed to let you go. Give you a chance to be happy, he said, his sadness unmistakable in his voice.

My heart broke. I was a terrible friend. I had blamed him for the problems in my relationship with Blake. I had told him that what we'd had was disgusting. I admitted that I had used him.

Instead of accepting how crazy in love with him I was, I chose someone who was supposed to be a safe choice. Seth had every right to walk away from me forever, but he had come back.

I'm so sorr―, I started, but he cut me off by grabbing my hand and pulling me in for another hug.

Don't worry about it, Jos. We can talk about it later. Right now, I just want to be here for you. How's your dad?

I sighed and pulled away from him. I picked up my bag and put my Kindle inside of it. My relief was overwhelming. All I wanted was to talk to my best friend for the first time in two years.

He's doing as well as you can expect, I answered, grabbing Seth's hand and pulling him toward the door. He's depressed. When we found out that Daddy had been in a car accident, he was a wreck. He couldn't even move when he got the phone call. I had to take the phone and get all the details.

We walked down the sidewalk along a strip of stores. Movement meant I had something else to focus on. I didn't have to stand in one spot and concentrate on the gravity of my words.

He died instantly. There was no way to revive him. That's what hurts the most, I think. There was no chance for him to survive. One minute, he's telling us he's going to run to the store to get some ice cream for a movie night, and the next thing we know, he's gone. Ripped from our lives forever.

I tried to swallow the swell of emotions gathering in my throat. Tears were threatening to fall again as I remembered that night three weeks ago. I heard Seth sigh next to me, and looked up to see his own turmoil. His eyebrows pulled together and his Adam's apple twitched as he tried to swallow. His hand squeezed mine tightly. My parents were family to him, too.

"I can't believe he's gone. My dad is great, your dad is great, but Will was something else. He was amazing," he said sadly, shaking his head.

Yeah, I know . . . Dad's getting there. I saw him a couple days ago, and I think he might start going back to work soon. It could be good for him. Take his mind off of things, I said and shrugged my shoulders. I didn't really know how Dad was going to get over this. Daddy was his soul mate. Seth wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to him, and we continued our walk through our little town.

Things'll get better, Jos. I'm not leaving this time. I'll help as best as I can.

Thanks, Sethy, I said quietly. He amazed me. The fact that he had come back and was promising to be there for me was something I certainly didn't deserve, but peace washed over me for the first time in what seemed like forever.

***

Seth’s been back for two weeks but I still haven’t seen him as much as I would have liked—instead, I’ve been focusing on my final exams and papers for my master's degree. Since I finished school a couple days ago, we started making more plans together. Innocent, best friend plans—like in the old days. 

Of course beating each other up is one of those bestie pastimes, so that’s what we’re doing today.

Mr. Tucker continues to talk to us about how to be prepared for anything. I've heard all the rules numerous times, but it doesn't make them any less important. I just wish Seth would move his damn arm so I can pay attention. He's making my breath a little short, and I don't like how it feels. 

I don't want to get sucked into those emotions ever again. I don't want to feel them for anyone. Between the bricks surrounding my heart, the mortar is still wet—still raw from the pain. 

But the urge to look at him to too strong. I tell myself it’s just to make sure he hasn’t noticed my reaction. 

I turn my head slightly and look at Seth. He's in a black tank top and black shorts, looking so good. There's a splash of red color on his toned arms from working out in the sun again at his parent's farm, and his skin is glistening slightly with the little bit of sweat that we worked up. 

I notice him, but he doesn't notice me. He's not paying any attention to me.

Chapter 2

Seth 

I wish she would move that damn arm.

I try to focus on the instructor as my body starts to rage with lust for the only girl I've ever actually felt something for. Fuck! How am I supposed to concentrate on anything when her flawless skin is touching mine? She keeps stealing glances at me, and I can't tell if she's doing it out of annoyance of being close to me… or if she's thinking the same thing. 

It's too soon, Seth, I chastise myself. 

Fuck my internal morals. Fuck standards. I want to grab her and devour her whole. I want to make sure she never forgets just how good I can make her feel. I want to mark her entire body with mine, so every other guy she wants to fuck knows that she's my girl. I want to make it impossible for her to think of anyone but me. 

I can't do that yet, though. She just lost her dad, and there's no way I'll play with her emotions when she's so fragile. She deserves to be in a good place before I show her how crazy I am about her. 

Anyway, I still don't know what happened between her and Blake. She hasn't brought it up since I came back. It's been a year since they broke up, but that doesn't mean she's over him. He's the one who fucked up everything she and I had together, but she loved him for some fucking reason. 

Hopefully now that she’s finished her degree and she’s not teaching in the summer, there’ll be time to talk about things. Resolve our issues. Apologize to her. Figure out whether or not she’s over him. 

Finally, the instructor finishes his repetitive speech, and we're dismissed. There's a warring sense of relief and longing that consumes me when Josie moves to go to the locker room. I let out a breath that I've been holding since her skin first skimmed mine. 

Sometimes it's so hard to be around her knowing that my feelings never changed. I tried so fucking hard to get her out of my head during the last two years. I fucked tons of girls―hell, more than one on many occasions―but she was still there. When I'd make the girls leave, Josie's face always crept into my mind. I would go outside and stare at the stars, wondering if she was looking at them, too. Wondering if she was thinking about me. 

I tried to talk to her through e-mail, but those messages were nothing compared to the real thing. A way for each of us to hide from our embarrassment and anger. I knew she would be mad that I'd left without telling her. I wanted to hurt her, though. 

I was just so fucking angry. I was angry at myself for falling for her and angry at her for not fighting for us. Mostly, I was hurt, though. Hurt that she thought what we had together was sick. She just never understood what each and every time meant to me.  

I pick up my backpack, and wait for Josie to come back out of the locker room. She walks out with her black gym bag that she brings to every lesson, though I've never understood why. She never changes after class, but I swear she brings it every time, thinking she's going to. 

Didn't change today, Jos? I ask, smirking at her. 

She walks toward me and rolls her eyes. God, she's so sexy. She's wearing skin tight yoga pants that make me want to bury my head between her thighs and tight sexy ass, and a blue tank top revealing her toned, slender arms. Blue is definitely her color. She's always looked good in it, even in that stupid old Ravenclaw T-shirt she's been wearing since middle school. She slings the bag onto her back and shakes her head.

Not today . . . Next time, though, she says, walking to the door to leave. 

I watch as she completes her routine check of both directions before she exits the door. It makes me sad. I don't think she even knows she's doing it. She always checks and double checks her surroundings so she won't ever be caught off guard again. She acts so strong, and she is, but when I watch her eyes continually searching for any signs of danger, I can tell she's still affected by what happened six years ago. 

I'd give anything to take that away, to take away the hurt that bastard caused her. To take away the memories.

I was hoping we could go to Will's grave today, I say, matching Josie's stride as we head toward my truck. She's been so busy that we haven't been able to go. I also think she's been avoiding it. She sighs, but I know she won't be able to come up with an excuse this time. She already told me she was free all day. 

Okay, she says quietly and opens the door to get into the truck. 

Good, I'll be back in one sec . . . Lock the door. I throw her my keys and jog down the sidewalk. 

I go to the flower stand and pick up white daisies. Will had loved them—they always filled his house or the garden. I walk back to the truck and wait for Josie to unlock the doors. 

She's got the cutest grin on her face, making me a little uncomfortable in my shorts. Her laughter rings through the locked door. She thinks she's so funny. I tap on the window and point to the lock. Open it up, Jos, I say loudly, trying to hold back a grin. 

No way! How do I know you're not some guy dressed up as my best friend, sent to take me away forever? I says just as loud. 

I let out a chuckle, wishing that were the case. If I could whisk her away for the rest of my life, I'd be the happiest fucking person on the planet. 

Guess you'll just have to trust me . . . Of course, I could show you a couple body parts that you might be able to recognize. 

I start laughing when I see her shocked expression. Her mouth hangs open, but a smile is tugging at her perfect pink lips. Finally, she leans over the seat and unlocks the door so I can get in. I lay the flowers in between us and grab the keys from her lap.

You wouldn't have exposed yourself in the middle of the street. She huffs and leans back in her seat. 

I look over at her and quirk an eyebrow. Don't underestimate me, Pussycat. You don't think I have an exhibitionist side? Have you seen my pictures? I ask, teasing her. 

She turns her head and looks out the window. When I glance over, I notice red color flushing against her light brown skin. I can't tell if it's out of embarrassment or anger at me for bringing up my pictures. 

Of course she knows. She took some with me, and she thought it was revolting. Anger starts to clog my throat and I clench my jaw, staring at the road. 

I thought I was over it. I thought I could forget, but her words will never leave me. How can I possibly think about winning her over, when all I can think about is how she said she didn't love me? She was too much of a coward to say the words back then. To choose me over someone safer.

Oh, I've seen them all right, she answers quietly, still facing away from me. I grip the steering wheel harder, not sure where she's going to go with this. They were gorgeous, Seth. She doesn't need to explain what she's talking about. We both know. I never got to tell you that, but they were amazing. Beautiful. They captured . . . she trails off, unsure of herself. 

I want her to continue. Fuck, do I want her to finish that damn sentence—but I shouldn’t. It's selfish to want to hear what she thought those pictures captured. They are gorgeous—she looked so fucking beautiful in those shots. I had to leave them behind when I left the country so I wouldn't be tempted to jerk off to them every time I saw them. 

Now they've been tempting me for the last two weeks since I've been home, making me insane almost every night. 

. . . everything, she whispers, finishing her sentence. I close my eyes briefly. I want more from her—I want her to explain every thought, every feeling, every sensation she felt when she looked at them. I want to know if she still thinks about them. 

But that one word is enough to cause the emotions that I've been burying for two years to resurface. We pull up to the cemetery, and I'm fucking speechless.

I know they did, I say finally, grabbing her hand after I park the car. 

It's not even close to what I want to say. I want to tell her what I really think of those pictures, but it's still too soon. She needs time to heal. I rub my thumb across her soft hands. Mine are calloused and rough from working on the farm my whole life, and hers have always been dainty and soft in comparison. But she lets me hold her anyway, and I savor every damn stroke I make against her skin. We both take a deep breath before moving to get out of the car. 

I reach over, grab the flowers, and walk to Josie. She stares across the cemetery, a look of sadness flashing across her face. It drives me insane to see her sad. I want to take away all of that pain. She's so tough and tries to hide that she's hurting, but I know her too well. She gives me a sad smile and starts in the direction of her father's grave, wisps of her hair blowing in the breeze. 

We walk in a peaceful silence, respecting the other people who are mourning their losses as well. When we reach the tombstone, a weight starts to form in my chest. Will was like another dad to me. He was always there for Josie and me, whether it was running us around town, bailing us out of trouble at school, or providing the comforting hug we needed when we were hurting.

His tombstone reads: Will Sommers, beloved husband and daddy. There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be.―John Lennon

Josie must have picked the quote. She knew Will would’ve thought it was fate for him to leave that night and pass in a car crash. 

How can you not love a girl like that? Someone who is so thoughtful and careful with the people she loves. She probably hated the quote when she decided to