“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” roars a voice at my side, a very angry and tormented snarl.

I stop twisting a daisy stem between my thumb and index finger to crank my neck to the voice. Although the late afternoon sun is shadowing his face from my view, I know who is accosting me in a cemetery without needing to see his features. He hasn’t left my thoughts since I ran into him last month. Ryan.

While rising from my seated position, my hands sweep at the wetness sitting on my cheeks. “Sorry, I didn’t realize time had gone by so fast. Brax said you don’t usually arrive until five.”

“You’re talking to Brax now?” Ryan replies, stepping out of the shadows.

The sneer in his voice matches the snarl on his face. His beautiful features are hardened with anger, and his blue irises are hidden by lowered lids.

I dust my dew-stained hands on my backside. “Ah. Yeah. Long story.”

I wish I could offer a more confident reply, but I’m so unaccustomed to this side of Ryan, I’m void of a better response. I’ve never seen him so aggressive. I didn’t think he knew how to snarl, much less direct it at a woman. I guess it isn’t just my personality that’s done a complete one eighty the past ten years. Ryan’s has been overhauled as well—regrettably.

“I’m sorry I broke your tradition. I just wanted him to know he is in my thoughts.” My eyes drift to Chris’s headstone during my last sentence.

Just seeing his name engraved in stone causes an upwelling of tears. He was too young to die—way, way, way too young.

Ryan adjusts the six pack of beers resting on his hip while muttering under his breath, “You didn’t show up to say a final goodbye, so why bother now?”

My eyes rocket to his. “I beg your pardon?” I ask, certain I heard him wrong.

I didn’t. He straightens his spine, locks his squinted gaze with mine, then repeats his sneered comment without remorse.

I glower at him, feeling my anger wind up from my stomach to my throat. My cheeks heat, and my fists ball. I’ve never been so angry in my life. But since my respect for Chris is higher than my desire to tackle the major chip Ryan’s shoulder has grown the past few years, I harness the urge—barely.

After snatching my hoodie from the ground, I press my lips to Chris’s headstone then make a beeline for the cemetery’s only exit.

I’m not even three steps away from Ryan when he snarls, “That’s it, Savannah. Run away like you always do.”

I spin on my heels so fast, my hair smacks my flaming cheeks. “I’m not running. I’m leaving before you make a fool out of yourself.”

Ryan laughs, apparently amused. “Oh, well that’s different. Why didn’t you just say that?”

He places his beer on the blades of grass my sweater flattened before dropping his eyes to Chris’s headstone. “Can you believe this shit? She made me look like an idiot for years, but now she’s worried about me stepping up to the plate to wield the bat she’s swinging for years.”

“Don’t bring Chris into this,” I seethe, my words hissing from my mouth like venom.

“Why not?” Ryan asks, shrugging. “You are just as much to blame for his death as I am.”

I take a step back, stunned. “Chris committed suicide. No one is to blame for his death, Ryan. Not even himself.”

I don’t know what is more distressing: Ryan placing the blame for Chris’s death on me, or the fact he thinks he is also to blame. Ryan may be a liar and a cheat, but what happened to Chris isn’t his fault. I hate that Chris couldn’t see through the darkness, but pointing fingers does more harm than good. I know that better than anyone.

“What happened isn’t anyone’s fault, Ryan. Chris just wasn’t himself—”

“How do you know that, Savannah? You weren’t here for him. You didn’t know what he was going through. That he couldn’t get out of bed without guzzling a can of beer first. That he blamed himself for things out of his control. You couldn’t even show up to his funeral, for fuck’s sake, yet you feel you have the right to say what he was thinking. You don’t know shit.”

His words sting, but they don’t stop me from saying, “I might not have been here, but I know nothing said or done would have changed the outcome. Chris didn’t just take his life on a whim, Ryan. He had been planning it for some time. That day just gave him an excuse to end the pain.”

“No, it didn’t, because his pain didn’t lessen. It got worse!”

The pure agony in his voice cuts me raw. This isn’t about Chris; this is about Ryan. Chris is at peace. Only Ryan is left battling his demons.

Ryan steps closer to me, shadowing me with his frame that has nearly doubled in width from when he was a teen. “Why weren’t you there for him, Savannah? Why didn’t you come home when he needed you?”

Tears stream down my cheeks when I see the sentence in his eyes that his mouth failed to produce. “Why didn’t you come back for me?”

“I wanted to be here. God, Ryan. When I found out what happened. . . what he had done, I immediately started packing. I didn’t care about the risk, I wanted to go home. Chris wasn’t just my friend; he was a brother I never had.”

My hands sweep at my cheeks as I contemplate what to say next. My pause is pointless when I stammer out, “They wouldn’t let me go. I begged them to let me attend the church service, but they said it wasn’t safe.”

I still recall the day I read about Chris’s death in a national newspaper. My heart shred into a million pieces when I was informed of his cause of death. Chris had always been the goofball, but those closest to him knew the man behind the shield. He had a huge heart—one too big for this world. That’s why he lived his life so recklessly, because he knew it was going to be short.

“You know Chris never intended to grow old, Ryan. He didn’t want gray hairs or wrinkles. He said the picture on his headstone would be the hottest one in the graveyard.” My eyes drift to the smiling photo nestled in the top right hand corner of his headstone. “He got his wish. Nothing said or done would have stopped him from achieving that.”

After inhaling and exhaling three times to loosen the weight on my chest, I return my eyes to Ryan. The anger on his face has slipped away for confusion. He heard what I said, but he still doesn’t understand what I mean, so I simplify it for him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you, Ryan, but don’t mistake that as me not wanting to be here. I did everything I could to come home, but sometimes, no matter how hard you wish for something, it doesn’t come true.” My watering eyes dance between his before muttering, “We are living proof of that.”