After losing my mother in Indiana, and my uncle in New York, I didn’t really miss either of the places I used to live. Now, I’d lost a friend here, but as much as I missed Adare, it wasn’t the same as what happened before. Besides, I had other people I cared about in Fort Collins. Leaving wasn’t something I was considering.

Still, as I walked across the cemetery, I couldn’t help but feel that something was absent. Over the past couple months, I’d sometimes missed the trees that had surrounded me most of my life, but it was never more obvious than now. There were trees on the mountains, individuals or pairs scattered around, but so many were pines that it was still greener than the abundance of colors I’d been used to in the fall.

I’d never seen the place where my mom was buried, and Anton had been cremated, so I’d never really done the whole leaving flowers, spending time at the cemetery thing until now. Although I was new to this, as I approached Adare’s marker, I couldn’t help but think that it looked far too bare. She’d paid for a simple headstone, and I’d gotten a letter a couple days ago that said it’d be installed this upcoming week.

“I should’ve brought flowers,” I said softly as I stopped at the edge of the grave. “You always said you liked sunflowers.”

I looked around. It was Saturday morning, and the weather was still nice, if a little cold, but I didn’t see anyone else nearby. That was good. I needed to talk to someone about everything that was going on in my head, and I didn’t want anyone overhearing. I could’ve talked to Jenna, and I probably would at some point, but not today.

The grass was damp, but I sat down anyway. I doubted I’d feel it through my jeans, but even if I did, a little discomfort wasn’t my primary concern.

“There aren’t a whole lot of sunflowers around Halloween,” I continued. “I’ll bring some in this spring, or whenever they bloom.”

I crossed my legs and leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. The irony of the moment wasn’t lost on me. When Adare had been alive, I hadn’t told her about my past. She could’ve looked into it, but I knew she hadn’t. She would’ve wanted me to come to her myself.

“I’m sorry,” I said as I pulled up a couple blades of grass and rolled them between my fingers. “I should’ve told you everything. You wouldn’t have pitied me or looked at me differently. I was just scared.” I sighed. “No, that’s not the truth. Not the whole truth anyway. I was scared, but it had nothing to do with me worrying about how you would have seen or treated me. It was all me. I’m terrified of my past. I don’t want to have to think or talk about it. I just want to pretend that nothing happened.”

I ran my hand over the grass and let my thoughts wander for a few minutes.

“Jalen and I are dating. I think.” I smiled. “I know what you’d tell me about that. Either we are or we aren’t, and if I don’t know, I need to do something about it. But I’m scared of that too. What if I ask him and he says that we’re not dating? What if I’m doing the same thing with him that I was doing with Clay, except this time, it’s not my decision?”

I rubbed my forehead, but it didn’t do much to help the throbbing.

“I want more than just a fuck buddy. But I also don’t want more. What I had with Clay was good. Couldn’t I have the same thing with Jalen? No risk of getting too close. We both walk away when we’re done.”

I didn’t need Adare to be here to know what her response would’ve been.

“I know, I know,” I said, pulling up another blade of grass. “I’ll never move forward if I’m not willing to risk being hurt.” I sighed. “Whenever people hear about my past, or even learn that I don’t have any family, or discover that I wanted to join the FBI, or how I moved here on my own without knowing anyone, they’d tell me how brave I was. But I’m not brave. I’m scared of so much.”

I didn’t say anything else for a long while, and I tried not to think anything either. I let my mind go as blank as I could, skipping across thoughts without allowing myself to go any deeper. It helped that it was peaceful here.

When I finally got to my feet, I hadn’t come up with any solutions or decisions, but I felt better anyway. If I got to a place where I needed actual advice, I’d probably go to Jenna. Considering she’d chewed Jalen out the last time he behaved like an ass, I felt comfortable that she wouldn’t pull any punches, and I needed someone who wouldn’t use my past as an excuse to treat me like I was fragile. Sometimes, a scared person needed a kick in the ass more than a sympathetic ear.

I was halfway back to my car when my phone started to ring. As the theme to a certain popular science-fiction movie series blared from my purse, I fumbled with my zipper. I hadn’t realized how cold I’d gotten until my fingers didn’t want to cooperate. I finally managed to get my phone out, answering it without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“You have a collect call from Indiana State Prison.”

I went numb, barely hearing my father saying his name during the pause in the robotic statement. I ended the call and dropped my phone back into my purse. For nearly ten years, he’d sat in prison and left me alone. I’d ignored him at the trial and made a point of testifying against him.

What in the hell had given him the idea that I’d accept a collect call from him, let alone actually want to talk to him?