This weekend marking my mother's birthday, Claire and Calvin suggested a drive to Idaho. My stomach flipped at the idea of visiting their graves, but I wanted to pay my respects, and the shared tombstone was all I had.

     Despite the circumstances of the short road trip, the drive up was joyful. Dancing and singing in the passenger seat, Claire had been in an even greater mood than usual as Grayson had aced our latest English test. I thought it wise not to tell her of the C that I had just barely managed to scrape. The grade hadn't come as a surprise. It's not that the test had been difficult or that I hadn't studied enough. Grayson and I had spent hours studying. I practically knew every answer, but I had run out of time.

     Rather than taking the seat next to mine, as he did every other day, on the morning of the test, Grayson had sat a row in front of mine, taking the seat directly across from mine. I spent most of the period watching him. Light blue-collar shirt bringing even greater attention to his eyes, and hair his usual tousled mess as if he had just rolled out of bed, he looked especially good that morning. But that wasn't why I was looking. I couldn't have cared less that his biceps bulged against his tight sleeve as he furiously jotted down his answers, or that he nibbled on his bottom lip when he came across a challenging question. His attractive features paid me no bother. I was simply making sure that he was doing alright, making sure that our studying had been purposeful.

     Every time I finally found myself focused on my own test, out of the corner of my eye, I'd notice his shoulders briefly slump and instantly my attention was once again fixed his way. Brows furrowed, he would stare at the chalk board in thought, flicking a pencil between his fingers. Gaze flickering from his swollen lip to the entrancing movement of his slim fingers, I was furious every time I caught myself staring. Frustration only further distracting me, before I knew it, the bell rang and most of my questions remained unanswered. Mrs. Moore had been considerate enough to erase the grade from my track record. I was glad that she had believed my claim that I had been distracted, but I hadn't liked her knowing smirk. I had been referring to the whole spending three years in the home of criminals' situation, but it seemed she believed I meant something else. I couldn't imagine what else she believed was distracting me.

     Though I had spent months in their home, I had yet to speak to Claire and Calvin as much as I did during that nine-hour drive. I realised that I liked them even more than I thought. They enjoyed teasing Grayson as much as I did, and to his dismay, they had countless embarrassing stories to share. Chatting animatedly, we played games most of the ride.

     Only when the Stanley sign approached, did we quiet. Cemetery in sight, pulling into its narrow lane, our smiles flickered. Exiting the painfully silent car, I didn't dare sneak a glance at the Ryders. I kept to myself, a fear that I would crumble under their sad gazes. I couldn't break before even reaching the tombstone.

     Placing white lilies on the marble stone, we stood quietly for many moments. I stood a few feet away from the three, trying to pretend I was here alone. Peripheral gaze blurry, I focused only on the marble stone.

     Emma, Conrad, and Maddison Adams buried together, I stared down at their names, chest numb, hollow. Every beat of my heart sent a jolt of pain across my chest, as I was overcome with guilt. Guilt of surviving while they hadn't. Guilty of being the reason the Collins had targeted them. And a deep guilt of recognizing their names but being unable to associate any memories.

     Seeing my name next to theirs did nothing to ease my sense of a lack of belonging. Their names followed by their year of birth and year of death, mine held only one date, a space left empty as they awaited confirmation of my death. Chest throbbing, my vision blurred, names before me disappearing. I tried to blink the tears away, but gaze falling on misty blue eyes, my resistance dissolved. The first to notice my tear-stained cheeks, Grayson watched me with such concern, such understanding and care that I couldn't help but lose all urge to fight my emotions. Corner of his eyes crinkling with worry and pain, he looked torn. Body inclined towards mine, he seemed to be considering taking a step forward. As much as I wanted to let myself be comforted, the idea that I still knew so little about him, stopped me. Though it pained me, I took a small step backwards and wrapped my arms around my own torso. Grayson got the idea. Helplessness flashed across his tight features, but he forced himself to stay put.

     When I had agreed to come on the trip, I had expected a few tears, but I hadn't expected to break down in sobs. After months of fighting and distracting myself from the truth, it became incredibly difficult to deny it with such tangible, heart-breaking proof before me.

     Claire and Calvin only raised their bowed heads when a chocked sob escaped me.

     "Do you want to be alone for a bit?" Claire asked softly.

     Breaths coming out in gasps, I nodded, act of attempting to withhold a full breakdown in front of the three becoming impossible.

     With sad eyes Claire promised to wait in the car. Taking Calvin's hand, she led him to the car, gesturing with her head that Grayson should follow. Eyes hard as he shared my pain, Grayson looked conflicted. The idea of leaving me alone seemed appalling. He shot me a pleading look and immediately I averted my gaze. Part of me wanted to let him stay. I was sure he would know how to comfort me, but still another part of me told me it was irrational to want him.

     He certainly wasn't happy about it, but Grayson followed his parents. The three out of sight, I dropped to the cold grass and released the sobs that I had been failing to swallow. For the first time in months, I finally gave into the anger, heartache, and confusion. I let myself hate and miss the Collins. I fully admitted the multiple layers to my guilt and accepted the fact that I could miss something that I didn't remember having. I decided that it was not the tears that made me weak, but rather my attempt to ignore my emotions. Because to feel, even ache, was better than to feel nothing.

     I don't know how long I stayed there. I sat until my sobs slowly faded into quiet sniffles, chest lighter than it had been in weeks. When my cheeks had dried and my breathing had returned to normal, still I waited longer.

      Mustering the courage to stand, my hand lingered on the marble stone. "Happy Birthday, mom," I whispered hoarsely.

     Eyes red and puffy, I met the Ryders in the car. The ride to the hotel was silent, but I managed to smile reassuringly in Grayson's direction. Though his brows remained faintly furrowed in concern, he visibly relaxed.

     Dropping our bags in the shared hotel room, we had little time to unpack. I felt better than I had in months, but Grayson's concern lingered, and I believed he was rushing me out of the room to distract me. Quite enthusiastic of the idea of having supper at my mother's favourite coffee shop, his intentions to distract me were unnecessary, but proved successful, nonetheless. Whether he had done so on purpose or for my benefit, I was quite humored by the mess he made, following his clumsy handling of a box full of stir-sticks.

     That night Claire recounted some of her favourite memories of my mother. I was thrilled with the new information, happy to better be able to imagine the person Emma Adams had been. Though the new stories warmed my chest and my earlier outburst had relieved me of overwhelming emotions, still I felt a deep sadness, one I knew would always remain. With so much new information, I felt close to a memory of my own. Various familiar imagines flashed across my mind, but I couldn't decipher any of their meanings. It was immensely frustrating, but it also generated hope. For the first time in years, I actually believed that my memory might return. Sudden excitement mixed with my earlier sadness; I was restless. I tossed and turned for hours that night.

     Momentarily giving up on sleep, I flipped on my side. A startled gasp escaped me when I met Grayson's eyes. The bed he shared with his snoring father, only a few feet away from the one I shared with Claire, I saw him clearly, even through the night's darkness. He looked as far from sleep as I. I tended to forget that I wasn't the only one hurting. Despite the fact that I caught him staring, he didn't tear his gaze away. He didn't speak, didn't smile or nod in acknowledgement. Blue eyes bore into me unashamedly; both silently observing and reassuring. Any other night, I would have turned around in a flustered panic. But tonight, heart so heavy yet so light, his eyes held such warmth and compassion that I couldn't help but hold his gaze. My heart raced in my chest and my cheeks were flushed, but I kept his gaze. Though from head to toe my insides fluttered, I suddenly wasn't so restless. Looking into his eyes, I felt so content, so relaxed, that eventually I fell into a deep slumber.