Today was the day I’d been dreading.

I was sitting in the rental car with Daz. It was drizzling, but that was bound to only last so long. It figured, right? Rain on what was already the worst day of the year. Not that a bright, sunny day would have been welcome. I’d probably just be upset that the world could look so happy when I was so miserable.

Maybe coming back here wasn’t a good idea.

“Three years,” I whispered into the car.

It was the first thing I’d said all day, and you could hear it in my voice. It sounded like it might have been longer than that since I’d spoken last.

I just hadn’t had a thing to say, not one. The only thing that kept playing through my mind were those two words:

Three. Years.

How could it be three years since I’d seen him, heard his voice? Our son had lived longer without his daddy than he’d had him.

I couldn’t bear to look at the clock and see it ticking each minute farther from my last ones with Joel. I couldn’t bear to look up and see the lot we were in, the grass just yards away that seemed to stretch on forever, the stone markers that broke up the view.

I’d been staring at the dashboard for too long now. I was trapped. I couldn’t leave without going to talk to him, I couldn’t get out of this car and face the fact that we were back at this God forsaken place.

“It still doesn’t seem real,” Daz answered, sounding as rough as I felt. “Like maybe all this shit was just a horrific dream.”

You couldn’t wake up this many times in a nightmare. I’d spent weeks in the aftermath praying I would wake up in Joel’s arms, and it was just more of this. No, the real nightmares came at me every night when I would be back in that car. Then, I’d wake up to something that was barely better.

Daz, though, he was moving on. It didn’t mean he didn’t miss his brother, but he had so much in his life he didn’t have three years ago. He’d fallen in love, they were expecting a baby. He was happy. Meanwhile, I was still stuck.

I hadn’t talked to Liam since I left. I’d thought about texting him the night before while I’d laid awake freaking out about today and what it meant, but that felt wrong, like it wasn’t fair to either of them. I knew Liam wouldn’t see it that way. He’d been there for me to talk to about Joel. I just needed some mental space from that. I was afraid that if I tried to confront whatever Liam and I were building between us while I was here, I’d freak out on him. Whatever came next for us, he deserved better than that after all he’d done for me.

Still, I couldn’t shake the desire to seek comfort from him. Maybe I was getting into a habit of using him as a crutch.

Or maybe you’re just opening up to someone.

I choked back a sob. I couldn’t do it, not today. I couldn’t have that fucking voice in my head.

Daz put a hand on my back, rubbing and attempting to soothe me. All it did was push me closer to breaking.

“Will you go first?” I choked out.

It wasn’t fair to put him on the spot. He might not be ready to go out there and say what he needed to. I just needed to be alone before I could.

“Yeah, sis. I can go first.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I was going to lose it.

How I held it together for the next couple minutes until he got out, I had no clue. My palms were throbbing from how hard I dug my nails into them. My jaw had long since cramped up from me clenching it. I was barely even breathing. When he got out, I counted each step like I knew how many it would take to get him out of earshot, like there was a magic number where I could release this maelstrom inside of me.

The moment he was out of view, I broke.

I screamed into my hands until my voice went hoarse and broke. It hurt, but that pain couldn’t touch what was eating me up inside.

This was supposed to get easier. That’s what they said. That’s what the fucking therapist had said. Each year, it would tear me apart a little less.

Really? Well, I wasn’t feeling that. This hurt just as much as it had last year, just as much as the year before, just as much as the first horrific day we came to this fucking place.

I could still remember.

It was so quiet. I’d gotten used to the sound of all the motorcycles on the way over. Daz’s whole club had ridden with us. Owen had been fascinated, but he didn’t understand what was happening today. He’d cried a few times because he was sensitive to the feeling around him, but he had no idea why we were upset.

I did.

It was why I couldn’t look up. My eyes were fixated on the grass as I walked with my arm in Daz’s. I think he was afraid I might just collapse. Really, I was more likely to bolt.

If it weren’t for my son, I might have already.

Not that there was anywhere on Earth that I could escape this. No matter where I went, he still wouldn’t be there.

I’d be lying if I said the other way to escape hadn’t crossed my mind. Maybe the inclination toward that sort of thing was genetic. But I knew what it was like to be left behind. Owen would have been far better off than I had been, but I wouldn’t choose to miss a moment of my son’s life.

Even if it meant enduring this pain for the rest of mine.

I felt like I was going to be sick. Each step made that tightness in my gut increase. Not that I’d eaten. Maybe not in days. I wasn’t sure anymore.

Everything since the accident felt like this endless blur. Days without him had no substance, and yet they stretch on so long. Was that what it would always be like now?

I chanced looking up despite myself, and I caught the briefest glimpse of the site ahead.

My steps stuttered.

No. No. No.

“No.”

Daz drew to a stop. “I’m right here, Katie.”

I should appreciate that, but it didn’t mean a fucking thing. Joel was supposed to be at my side. That’s what we’d promised when we were nothing more than kids. That’s what we’d vowed at the courthouse when we’d gotten married.

Until death do us part.

I wasn’t married anymore.

“Oh, God.”

“Breathe,” Daz tried to coach.

“I can’t,” I gasped.

My lungs were too tight. They wouldn’t move. I couldn’t…I couldn’t.

There was a warmth and pressure against my chest, with a command, “Out.” The pressure persisted until I choked out the air in my lungs, then lifted. “In.”

The shudders rocked me as I got air in bit by bit.

Again, the pressure started with the repeated command, “Out.”

I followed the instruction, managing to breathe with the help. When the blackness receded from the edges of my vision, I found Doc right in front of me.

“That’s good, sweetheart. Stick with me.”

Right. In and out. After a few more, he removed his hand, but he stayed right there making exaggerated breaths for me to mimic. Once I had the pattern, he spoke again.

“In, 1, 2, 3. Out, 1, 2, 3. Remember that. When it starts to get hard, you count it. Focus on the numbers, the pattern. In, 1, 2, 3. Out, 1, 2, 3.”

In, 1, 2, 3.

Out, 1, 2, 3.

I could do that. I nodded.

“We’re right beside you. Not going any-fucking-where. We can’t make this go away, but you aren’t facing it alone.”

In, 1, 2, 3.

Out, 1, 2, 3.

I wasn’t alone.

I felt it, but I wasn’t. Doc and Daz were right there. There were good people I could trust taking care of my baby boy.

I wasn’t alone.

“You need to lean on us, you do it. Not an ounce of shame in that. One step at a time.”

“Okay,” I choked out. “Okay.”

Then, clutching onto them both, leaning on them when I could barely stand, I walked to the place we’d lay my husband to rest.

In, 1, 2, 3.

Out, 1, 2, 3.

In the last three years, I’d followed that advice more times than I could count. I’d repeated that count in my head again and again until it was second nature, and then I kept repeating it all the same.

I’d done this before. Three times I’d made this walk, and I’d survived it each time. This one wouldn’t be any different.