Alive long enough until she could get out and die in the one place she had always found peace in her life. Mr. Parson’s land. Where we met. Where we spent our childhood.

But with my help, the love and support of her sister, and the right counseling and medication, Bray is a changed person. I see it in her every day. She’s happy. When I watch her smile or hear her laugh, I know that the darkness that lives inside of her—and it will always be there—is so small, so weak now, that it can’t hurt her anymore. I worried for a while if she was only better because I was with her. I couldn’t stand feeling that if we were to break up someday—not that I’d ever see that happening—that she might commit suicide. As much as I wanted to be her crutch, her rock, I didn’t want to be the only thread holding her life together.

Thankfully, I found out that I’m not.

We still fight but we always make up, and she’s never reverted back to that darkness. Not that far, anyway. She still has her moments, but she loves life and every day she shows me that. But yeah, life is good. And I know it’s only going to get better.

It has been a long road for Bray, but I’m helping her travel it every step of the way. And even though sometimes she still feels like she doesn’t deserve someone like me, she’s learning that she does.

Everyone deserves someone who loves and cares for them enough to see them through life’s obstacles. Especially people like Bray.

Chapter Thirty-Three Bray

Three years later…

Today, I’m a very different person than I once was. It’s so strange looking back on my life, wondering how I managed to get through any of it in one piece. I truly am one of the luckiest people in the world. Not only because I have Elias in my life, but because I survived two and a half suicide attempts. Not many people can say that. I’m not sure what made me so special, what gave me the right to live when so many others who deserved a shot at life more than I ever did, lost their battle on the first try. But whatever it was, I’ll always be grateful.

I know that I never would’ve made it through anything if it weren’t for Elias and his unconditional and unwavering love for me. He, in every sense of the word, was everything to me. He was my parents, my sister, my friends, and the love of my life. He was my conscience, my will, and my direction.

Today, Elias is still all of those things. Even though I have a great relationship with my sister now and my father has finally started acting like one. I have the best friend in the world, Grace, who lives less than ten minutes from Elias and me. My mother calls me twice a week and we actually spend time together, doing things that mothers and daughters do. It took most of my life to feel like I had a family other than Elias, but now that I do, I couldn’t be happier.

But like I said, I really am a different person.

I wake up every morning next to Elias¸ thankful that the person I used to be, as damaged as she was, was never strong enough to chase him away. And when I crawl out of the bed in the mornings and stand in front of the bathroom mirror, I look at that girl staring back at me, and for the first time in my life, I like her. I understand her. I’m not ashamed of her.

I smile as I look at myself, then grab my toothbrush and get ready for the day. Elias has been marking the calendar for three weeks, counting down the days to something he refuses to tell me. I waltz into our tiny kitchen and spin around dramatically, modeling my new summer dress, white with little straps over my light sun-kissed shoulders.

“Overdressed? Underdressed? What do you think?” I ask, grinning at Elias, who is sitting at our small, round two-person kitchen table.

He shakes his head and gulps down the last of his orange juice. “Nope. Not gonna happen,” he says. “Quit trying to get hints out of me.”

“Oh come on,” I whine playfully and walk toward the refrigerator. “That’s not going to give anything away.”

“Give up, Bray.” He laughs and pushes his chair underneath the table.

“Fine,” I say, surrendering. “Did you talk to dad?”

Elias nods and rinses his plate off at the sink. “Yeah, he called while you were in the shower. He said your mom will be home about an hour after we get there. Not sure I like that.”

I roll my eyes and smile at him as I close the refrigerator. “Give him a chance, babe. He can handle it.”

“I dunno,” Elias says, shaking his head solemnly. “He always has that nervous look in his eye. The whole time we’re gone I’ll be worried your dad will be hiding in the closet when we get back.”

I laugh out loud and set the juice container back in the fridge. “He’ll be fine,” I say. “Mom will be back before it comes to that.”

Elias steps up to me and fits his hands on my hips. “The dress is perfect for the occasion. Just so you know,” he says with a smile in his voice.

I smile and look down at it briefly. “Really?”

He nods and then kisses my forehead.

“OK, well let’s get out of here,” I say, grabbing my purse from the cabinet. “Plane leaves in an hour.” I drink down my juice and leave the glass on the counter.

We fly to Athens, and my sister picks us up from the airport and drives us to my parents’ house. Dad is sitting in the living room watching old reruns of Cheers, trying to look casual, when we walk through the front door.

When he gets up from his favorite chair, I walk straight over and hug him tight. “Hi, Dad.”

He kisses the top of my head and rubs my back with both hands. “It’s good to see you,” he says and then squeezes me a little tighter. It still feels awkward when he treats me with such fatherly kindness, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Rian moves through the room and heads straight into the kitchen. She had been talking about leftover homemade cheesecake that Mom had promised to save for her, on the ride here. She was worried dad might’ve eaten it before she arrived.

“And it’s good to see you, Elias,” Dad says with a welcoming nod.

A smile breaks out on my face. They actually get along now, though in the beginning it felt like walking on eggshells every time we’d visit my parents. Gradually, the two of them shed their grudges and came to an understanding.

They exchange a few more words, and then my dad steps up to Elias and reaches out both hands. “And how’s my favorite grandson doing?” he says with a big, awkward smile, looking down at our son in Elias’s arms. He never was good with children.

Elijah, a year old in a few days, with dark hair and bright blue eyes just like mine and his daddy’s, makes a timid face and recoils against Elias’s chest.

Dad’s hands drop to his sides. He makes a face, too, though it’s funny to me because he seems more afraid of Elijah than Elijah is of him.

“He doesn’t like me,” he says, nervously fondling the thick silver watch on his right wrist. “Maybe you should wait until your mom gets here before you head back to Savannah.”

I reach out for Elijah, and he practically leaps into my arms. “Oh don’t be ridiculous, Dad. He’s just not used to you. Only sees you once a month.” I put Elijah into my dad’s arms.

Dad holds Elijah, keeping his little butt (dressed in OshKosh B’Gosh blue jeans) propped in the bend of his arm. He looks nervous.

Elias glances over at me, an uneasy yet laughable look on his face.

Just when Dad thinks he might be able to pull this off, Elijah bursts into tears, reaching out his little arms to me.