Faster We Burn

It must have been taken quite a few years ago, because his hair was definitely darker than when I’d met him.
    She opened the velvet-lined box and brushed the inside.
    “I thought you could use something better than a Ziploc bag. And you can close it and carry it around with you. See?” I pointed to the little lock on the front of it.
    “This is…this is one of the sweetest and most creepy things anyone has ever done for me.”
    “Is it more on the sweet side or more on the creepy side?” I was hoping for the former.
    “It’s a little bit of both, but I absolutely love it. Thank you so much.” She reached for her purse and took out the bag of ashes that she always carried with her, putting them in the box and locking it shut. She smiled down at the portrait on the front.
    “Now he’s with me all the time.”
    I put my arm around her.
    “Exactly.” I wiped a tear from her cheek. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

 
     
    Chapter Thirty-three
     
     
    Katie
     
    After Kayla’s announcement and Stryker’s present, things were sort of uneventful. Mom had flipped the nice switch and treated Stryker like he was a member of the family. She even asked about him and they had an entire civilized conversation, which was crazy.
    “I think she likes you,” I said that night as we lay in bed. Mom had given me a look when I’d said we were going to bed, but she hadn’t said anything as Stryker followed me.
    “Well, that’s a nice step up from loathing me, so I’ll take it.” He was busy drawing on my arm.
    “So you gave me a present, so I’m going to give you one.” He’d been pretty sneaky with his, but I was pretty sure he had no idea about mine.
    “It doesn’t involve you getting naked, does it?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.
    “Uh, no. That’s not a present. That’s a normal night.”
    “It’s a gift, as far as I’m concerned.”
    I rolled my eyes and went to get my bag.
    “So the wrapping isn’t as pretty as yours, seeing as how I can’t make my own, but it’s the thought that counts, right?” I’d found wrapping paper online that was covered in musical instruments, and I’d used it for all his presents.
    I wanted to just tear the paper off for him, but I let him slowly unwrap it until he got down to the box. He popped it open and took out the card inside, reading it slowly.
    “It’s a gift certificate for the art supply place. It’s not a box for your parents’ ashes with their faces painted on it, but I thought you could get some really good supplies and—”
    He looked up from the card and stopped my flow of words with a kiss.
    “I love it, and I love you. So, so much. It’s perfect.”
    “I love you too, best friend. There’s another little something under that card.” He pulled out the second part of that gift. It was one of those hokey charms that was half of the heart, and it said ‘Best’ on it.
    “I’ve got the other one,” I said, pulling the chain out from under my shirt, showing him the other half that said, ‘Friend’. I was surprised he hadn’t noticed it yet. “You don’t have to wear it as a necklace or anything, if that’s emasculating.”
    He pulled it out and slipped it around his neck.
    “My best friend gave me this. Just try and take it off me.” He held onto it, daring me.
    “Never,” I said, shaking my head.

 
    Thanks go, firstly, to my family for not thinking I was crazy to quit my job to write full time and for always thinking that I’m way cooler and more talented than I actually am and for listening to me ramble on about the publishing industry during Christmas.
    Second, to my besties, Caroline, Colleen, Liz and Rachel, you are the cheeses to my macaroni. I love all your faces.
    Third, to my editor, Jen, who SOMEHOW found the time to do an amazing job, even with her brand new baby.
    Fourth, to my beta, Laura, my soul twin. There are no words for how I creepy love you.
    Fifth, to my online community, including Magan Vernon and the rest of the Indelible ladies. You make me feel like I’m not alone, and that means more than I can say.
    Sixth, to all the book bloggers who have or ever will support me. You are aca-mazing and supportive and I am not worthy of you.
    Seventh, to all my readers (it sounds pretentious to call you fans), YOU are the reason I can do what I do. I wish I could invite all of you over to my house and feed you cookies baked with love and too much chocolate. YOU ARE ALL MY BESTEST FRIENDS.

 
     
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