Chapter 1
Wrenley Brookes
The smell of rain always reminds me of him.
Not because of the storm itself, but because of one afternoon nearly a year ago when we were caught in a summer downpour on the side of Highway 17. We’d jumped out of his old truck, danced in the middle of the empty road like complete idiots, and laughed until my stomach hurt while thunder cracked above us.
Landon had spun me around, his hair plastered to his forehead, his white T-shirt completely soaked.
“You know what’s crazy?” he’d asked.
“What?”
He’d reached for my hand, threading our fingers together like it was second nature.
“One day we’re going to be old.”
I rolled my eyes so hard it made him laugh.
“That is literally how time works.”
“No.” He shook his head, smiling that crooked smile that could make anybody forgive him for anything.
“I mean one day we’re gonna look back at this exact moment and wish we could come back to it.”
I nudged his shoulder.
“You’re twenty-four.”
“Exactly.”
His grin softened as he looked out across the empty fields.
“We’re young enough to waste time thinking we’ve got forever.”
I’d leaned up and kissed the corner of his mouth.
“Then let’s waste a little more.”
He’d laughed, wrapped an arm around my waist, and kissed me properly while rain poured around us.
If I had known that memory would become one of the only places I’d ever get to see him again...
I would’ve stayed there forever.
The church smelled like lilies and polished wood.
Too many flowers.
Too many whispered condolences.
Too many people dressed in black.
I sat in the very front pew with Landon’s parents on one side of me and my mom on the other, but I’d never felt more alone in my life.
My fingers twisted the folded funeral program until the edges dug into my skin.
I welcomed the sting.
It reminded me I was still here.
The room behind us filled with muffled conversations and quiet sniffles. Every few seconds someone else walked through the doors, each face carrying the same expression of disbelief.
Landon had known everyone.
More importantly...
Everyone had known Landon.
His third-grade teacher sat three rows back.
The high school baseball coach stood near the entrance talking quietly with the sheriff.
Mrs. Jenkins, who owned the flower shop downtown, cried into her husband’s shoulder before she even made it to her seat.
Even the teenage boys Landon had coached in Little League sat together, awkwardly adjusting ties they probably didn’t know how to wear.
It looked like the whole town had shown up.
Of course they had.
That’s what happened when someone spent their entire life making everyone else feel seen.
A hand rested gently over mine.
I looked down.
Margaret Parker.
Landon’s mom.
Her wedding ring caught the light as her thumb brushed across my knuckles.
She looked... smaller.
Like grief had physically taken something from her.
“You okay, sweetheart?” she whispered.
No.
Not even close.
But I nodded anyway because if I opened my mouth, I wasn’t sure I’d ever stop crying.
She squeezed my hand.
“I know.”
Her voice cracked on the last word.
“I know.”
On her other side, Richard Parker stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched so tightly I wondered if it hurt.
I’d never seen him cry.
Not when Landon broke his arm playing baseball in middle school.
Not when he graduated college.
Not even when his own father died.
But today...
His eyes never left the closed casket at the front of the church.
As if looking away would somehow make this real.
The organ began to play softly.
The conversations faded.
Everyone stood.
I stood too.
My knees almost gave out beneath me.
The casket was simple.
Dark walnut.
Silver handles.
It shouldn’t have been beautiful.
Nothing about today should’ve been beautiful.
Yet someone had arranged white roses across the top with such care that it almost looked peaceful.
Almost.
I couldn’t reconcile the polished wood sitting twenty feet away with the man who’d never been able to sit still for more than ten minutes.
Landon wasn’t still.
He was loud.
He laughed too hard at bad jokes.
He sang off-key every single time the radio came on.
He talked with his hands until he nearly knocked drinks off tables.
He hugged people like he was afraid they’d disappear.
He wasn’t...
Still.
The pastor began speaking.
I heard maybe three words.
Love.
Faith.
Forever.
Forever.
What a cruel word.
Forever wasn’t supposed to end at twenty-four.
My gaze drifted toward the back of the church.
That’s when I saw him.
Finley "Fin" Blake.
He stood near the rear doors instead of taking a seat, dressed in a charcoal suit that looked like he’d borrowed it for the day.
His hands were shoved into his pockets.
His shoulders were stiff.
His head was bowed.
I’d known Fin almost as long as I’d known Landon.
The two of them had been inseparable since kindergarten.
If Landon was sunlight...
Fin was the shade beneath an old oak tree.
Quiet.
Steady.
The kind of person who listened more than he spoke.
He owned The Next Chapter now—the little bar on Main Street everyone in town loved—but before that, he’d spent months renovating the abandoned bookstore while Landon practically appointed himself foreman without lifting more than a hammer or two.
I remembered standing inside that dusty building with both of them.
Landon had spread his arms dramatically.
“This place needs burgers and beer.”
Fin had laughed.
“It was a bookstore.”
“Exactly. It’s done being one.”
“And what? You think people are gonna come drink beer surrounded by books?”
“Buddy...”Landon had clapped him on the shoulder. “They’re gonna fall in love here.”
I smiled despite myself.
Just for a second.
Because I could still hear the confidence in his voice.
Like he already knew.
Fin looked up.
Our eyes met across the church.
His expression didn’t change.
He just gave me the smallest nod.
It wasn’t a smile.
It wasn’t pity.
It was simply...
I’m here.
Somehow, that hurt even more.
The service blurred together after that.
Stories.
Prayers.
Music.
People laughed through tears as they remembered Landon convincing the mayor to judge the town pie contest despite being allergic to half the entries.
Someone talked about how he’d once spent an entire Christmas Eve helping a stranded family change a tire instead of making it to dinner on time.
His baseball coach told everyone that Landon had never been the most talented player on the field.
“But he made every single person around him better.”
That was Landon.
Always making everyone else better.
When they opened the floor for family memories, Margaret stood.
Her hands trembled as she unfolded a small piece of paper.
“I always worried...” she began, pausing to wipe away tears. “I always worried my son gave too much of himself away.”
She looked around the room.
“I don’t worry about that anymore.”
A watery smile crossed her face.
“Because looking around this room...”
She laughed softly.
“I think every piece he gave away found a home.”
The church fell silent except for quiet crying.
I stared at the floor because if I looked anywhere else, I’d fall apart.
After the service, people lined up outside beneath gray skies.
Rain had started again.
Soft.
Steady.
Almost gentle.
One by one, they hugged me.
“I’m so sorry.”
“He loved you so much.”
“If you need anything...”
The words blended until they lost all meaning.
Eventually, I slipped away.
No one noticed.
Or maybe they did and understood.
I wandered toward the edge of the cemetery where the oak trees overlooked the rolling hills beyond town.
The rain dampened the sleeves of my black dress.
I welcomed it.
For a few precious minutes...
No one expected anything from me.
No brave face.
No thank-yous.
No polite smiles.
Just silence.
I wrapped my arms around myself and closed my eyes.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I whispered into the rain.
The words disappeared as quickly as I spoke them.
“I don’t know how to wake up tomorrow without you.”
A lump rose in my throat.
“I don’t know how to be twenty-two years old and already miss someone for the rest of my life.”
My voice broke.
“I was supposed to have forever.”
The sob escaped before I could stop it.
Hot tears mixed with cool rainwater.
Footsteps crunched softly behind me.
For a moment, I thought maybe if I didn’t turn around...
Maybe somehow—
“Wren.”
Fin’s voice was barely above a whisper.
I opened my eyes but didn’t face him.
He stopped a few feet away.
Neither of us spoke.
Neither of us knew how.
Finally, after what felt like forever, he said the only thing that mattered.
“He loved you.”
Fresh tears blurred the cemetery into streaks of gray and green.
“I know.”
It came out broken.
“So did I.”
Not in the same way.
Never in the same way.
But together, beneath a sky that couldn’t seem to stop crying either, we stood in the silence left behind by the man who had loved us both.
