I held in my hands the letters as I stared at the stones. At the top of the stack was a picture of me and my brother when he was discharged from the army, I was 14, he was 20.

The letters were ones sent from him over the two years he was gone before being discharged for a medical condition that had developed. I was 12 when Clay joined, before he left we smoked a joint together and I was so baked I asked him if this meant I was a stoney now, I meant to say stoner but that had become his new nickname for me. He had only ever wrote the nickname in the letters, so our parents wouldn't know we had smoked weed together, which is why I had forgotten where it had come from. What used to be a funny joke only between us was now a cruel reminder torturing me.

The names on the head stones were that of my father and brother. It was my brother's 24th birthday and the two most important men in my life had went out for a doctors appointment for Daddy and to buy kerosene, groceries, and other necessities if we were trapped on the mountain. Unfortunately the ice storm had come sooner than expected and Daddy's four wheel drive truck slid in a sharp curve. The truck flipped end over end down a thirty foot drop.

I had made Daddy a promise that when he was gone I'd not sit at his grave to remember him but go enjoy the things we had done together but when I did come to his grave pour moonshine on it and have a drink with him. We had talked about it some when I was younger because dad was a firefighter and a machinist, so the possibility of him not coming home was higher than most parents. He made me truly promise this to him two months before his death because he had fallen ill with a hernia keeping him from breathing well and had to be put on oxygen.

I did just what I promised. From my pocket I got a small jar of moonshine my mamaw had made and opened it. I first took a long hard drink than poured a shot over the ground at the base of both men's burial plots.

I opened the first handwritten letter my brother had wrote me:
" April 16, 2016
Dear Stoney,
Things ain't to bad here in basic but I never believed I'd miss old Keokee, Virginia.

I leave for Afghanistan in two weeks and if I'm being honest I'm a little scared, but I don't wanna worry you to much with it. You're young and should be enjoying life, don't let your mind get the best of you. At your age you should be worried about friends and dating, not bills. But remember if any boy breaks your heart I'll be home soon enough to teach em a lesson. Make time to have fun but don't get to high with Finnster.

Don't forget to take care of my hound and the chickens. I miss you, Momma, and Daddy like hell. Always remember that no matter how far from you I am, I'll always be there for my baby sister.

Love, Bubby"

I sobbed as I read the handwritten words of my brother in the moon light. Then I looked at the picture of us. Next I found a picture of my father and I fishing in the stack of the pieces of my broken heart.

The night it happened I was so worried about them when they didn't come home that I walked down the road with Griz looking for them. I found the truck, the bodies, the end of my world.

Clay was my best friend. Daddy was my true hero. In one night I lost them both. Now I struggle between making them proud and not being able to go on without them.

I sat between the graves, lost in my own head and in the painfully missed memories of the two. I was only brought back by headlights coming down the road.

"Mox?" I said.

"The fuck are you doin out here? It's 33 degrees out here. You're gonna freeze to death," Moxon generally sounded concerned for me. He looked around and his tone grew colder than the night air, "Where's your truck? Don't tell me you fuckin walked out here."

"How'd you know where I was?" I questioned. He was silent as if I had caught him in some misdoing. "B, as much as you've lied to me in the past tell me the truth for once."

"I texted Finn. He said you canceled on him because you had to do something and both of us were worried you were gonna hurt yourself again. I knew you'd be here or the lake so I came here first," he said sitting on the grass in front of me. "The day of the funeral you scared the fuck outta me. I lost you before and I don't wanna loose you forever."

"You lost me forever when you cheated on me with Stacy Cargo and lied telling me your parents wanted us to break up and when you lied to me about wantin to get back together," I spat.

"I didn't lie about wantin to be with you again. I've changed Ashy. You're the addiction I can't shake and obviously I'm yours or you wouldn't be in my hoodie right now."

"Bullshit Buck! You haven't changed!Three months ago when I texted you and said that Daddy and Clay weren't home yet and it was icing out, you fucking said 'idc I'm goin back to sleep'! At the funeral when I punched that brick wall, it was because you showed up. You're a fuckin dick and I can NEVER be with you again," I said, tears pouring down my face. He reach out to touch my cheek and I smacked his hand.

"I'm so sorry about that night. I hate myself for saying that to you, but I was dead tired from work and didn't think it was as serious as it was."

"You always have a fucking excuse," I whispered.

"Let me take you home. Please. I don't want you freezing out here," Buck Moxon actually sounded concerned about me. That wasn't like him to be apologetic. Maybe he did regret the past and wanted to make up for it.

I stared at him sitting between the headstones of my brother and father. If you had asked me just one short year ago I'd have said these three were the most important men in my life. Now I feel like I've lost all three of them.

"I just wanna take you home, Ash," Buck said holding my hands.

"Ok," I said getting off the cold grass, I stumbled and Buck caught me. He helped me into his old four door Chevy Tracker.

I'd been in this car a hundred times. Old memories of us laughing, cuddling, and even having sex in this rust bucket came flooding back. His hand on my thigh, mine in his hair. The love I held for him back then. It was like a wave hitting me, and I didn't mind it. I wasn't sure if it was the homemade whiskey or the fact I was back in his car or both.

He started to play our song, Feathered Indians by Tyler Childers. He used to play this song on his guitar and sing it to me. He was singing it mindlessly as he drove.

"If I'm honest, I don't wanna go home," I said half drunk.

"Ash, I don't wanna do somethin you're gonna regret in the mornin," Buck said.

I ended up falling asleep and all I remember before hand was putting my head on his broad shoulder and his hand in mine, like old times.

The next morning, I woke up on my couch covered in a blanket, with a splitting headache. My letters were sitting next to me with my pictures. How'd I get here? Had Buck carried me inside?

"Lubella Ashland Jolon! Where the fuck were you last night?" Mother yelled from the kitchen when she realized I was awake.

"Where are the boys?" I asked.

"At your cousin's. Now where were you?" She was pissed.

"The graveyard."

"Bullshit! I heard that Tracker at 3am this morning. You were out sleeping with that Moxon boy, weren't you? God, how did I raise such a little whore?"

Just then I heard the rumble of an old dodge truck in the driveway and Mom's mood changed instantly.