Page 155 of PS: I Hate You

Maybe that’s because I have Dom now. I know what it’s like to fear losing the love of my life. A fear that came true for her.

And I realized that while my brother’s ashes mean a great deal to me, they might mean even more to her in some ways. I’ve gotten to deliver seven pieces of him to his requested destinations so far. This last responsibility, the final step, feels like it should be hers.

Rosaline stands still on the icy tundra, staring at the group of us, wide-eyed as she clutches what remains of the man she loved to her chest.

“I…” she starts, then stops, her eyes going glassy. “I don’t think…”

We all hear the rest without her having to say the words.

I don’t think I can.

Or maybe,I don’t think I’m ready.

No doubt I wore a similar expression last time I was here before panic robbed me of breath.

I don’t want Rosaline to grapple with the same panic. Luckily, Dom taught me exactly what this situation needs.

I step up to Rosaline, holding her eyes with mine as I cradle her wrists. “That’s okay, Ros. You don’t have to. You don’t have to say goodbye yet.”

I know she’s where I was, horrified at the thought that this is the last of him. That after this, there’s no more of Josh to hang on to. To plan for. To imagine still living beside her.

Her nod is jerky, and she tries to pass my brother back to me.

I don’t take him. Not yet.

“We don’t have to say goodbye. But, how about we let a little of him go?” I tap the lid. “Just a pinch.”

Her eyes drop to the remains. “Not all of the ashes?”

“That’s right. And maybe a few years from now we can come back. Try again. Sound good?”

Now her nod is slow, measured, and her smile is full of relief.

“That sounds good.”

“I’m in!” Adam offers.

“Me, too,” Carter adds.

Dom appears at my side, his arm going around my waist and pulling me close as he sets a comforting hand on Rosaline’s shoulder.

“It’s a plan.”

She shares her beautiful smile between us, then pops off the airtight lid.

“Here.” Adam shuffles forward and holds out a crisp business card withPerry’s Fine Furnitureprinted in bold letters across the front. “You can use that to scoop a little bit of him up.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs, and with the stiff edge of the card stock, she draws up a pinch worth of the remains. The wind immediately plucks them from the card and sends the gray dust spiraling away. Rosaline hurriedly replaces the lid, securing the rest of Josh inside.

Maybe one day she’ll come to the same realization that I did. That those particles aren’t my brother. Not really.

He’s the memories I have. The memories we all have. And the best way to keep him alive is to remember him. Silently in our minds, but also out loud with one another.

“What was it like when you two came here together?” I ask Rosaline.

Her smile is small, and wistful. “Amazing. Romantic. And…” She chuckles, her cheeks flushing from more than just the cold.

“What?” I press.

“When we were walking back to the plane, he slipped and fell on his ass.” Rosaline grins wide now, her eyes sparkling more from humor than tears at this point. “He had a bruise right on his tattoo. It was huge! He kept—” She dissolves into giggles, tears of laughter streaming from the corners of her eyes. “He kept asking me to kisshis peanut butter to make it better,” she forces out through her gasping laughs.

We all join her, our group cackling at the new anecdote.

And I can feel him. Josh, in the middle of us, binding our group together. Our little family.

A finger under my chin tilts my head up, and I meet Dom’s loving gaze. He presses a kiss to my cheek, his lips claiming a single tear.

Because of Josh, I’m not alone. And I don’t think I ever will beagain.