"So," Howie looked between Dylan and I, a form to be filled out in front of us. The longer that neither of us said a word, the more his smile fell and the air became thick with tension. "You. . . You want to sign it?"

I snatched it, the sudden sound of paper being torn filled the otherwise quiet chapel office. Dylan watched me shredding the form up, but I couldn't look at him. How could I? How could I look at the person who I loved and hope that he'd tell me to stop, hope that he'd tell me he wants to remain married.

Right now, life wasn't on my side and I couldn't deal with one more fucking blow to the stomach. I was sick of getting knocked on my ass. This time, I was throwing the first punch. "He's engaged. To another woman."

Howie's eyes went wide right before I spun around and stormed out of the church. To be fair, I wasn't sure if there was truth to what I just said. I had no clue where he and Charlie stood right now. I hadn't seen him texting at all. He'd only called the restaurant or Brecken or his mom since we left.

But that wasn't the point. If I had to put my hope for happiness in someone else's hands one more time, just to have it thrown straight back at me, I wouldn't survive. My heart was being held together with a thin piece of thread and if it occurred one more knock, I wouldn't be getting back up. Right now, the only chance that I had, was to move forward, eliminate the risk of someone snipping my thread and hope that I made it out of this alive.

"Bea?" Dylan caught up to me in the parking lot. "Bea wait."

I made it to the car but it didn't matter because it wasn't unlocked. I had to wait for him to do that and I had a feeling that he was going to go for conversation before he did that. Of course, I was right. He stood in front of me, swallowed and slid his hands into the pockets of his slim fit jeans.

"What's going on? What was that all about?"

"Can we go?"

"Bea? Is someth—"

"I just want to get to Burbank, put my mom to rest and get this stupid trip over with. So can we go?"

His clenched jaw fluttered and his brows knit. "No. Tell me what that tantrum was about and then we can leave."

"Tantrum?" I spat and stepped backward, meeting his burning stare. That was the first mistake. Looking at him. I knew him well enough to know that I was hurting him right now. Even behind his frustration and short tone, he was hurt. "I just want to go, Dylan. I'm about to release my mom's ashes and I have a lot on my mind, alright? It's. . . I'm upset. Can you not make it about yourself?"

He looked at me as if I'd slapped him and I hated myself for it.

"Yeah," he said and turned his back on me, walked around to the driver's side and then slammed the door shut behind him. Exhaling a breath, I blinked back tears and slid into the passenger seat.

Nine years ago.

The world through a lens was a photographer's magic. We could zoom in on a flower to crop out the weeds that surrounded it. We could shoot a building at an angle that made it appear as if it was as tall as the heavens. We could focus on a beautiful face and blur all else in the background so that one smile was made to look like it could change lives.

I stood at the edge of the football field and aimed the camera at the cheer squad, capturing Maggie Nelson as she flew into the air, honey coloured dreadlocks creating a halo around her head. She performed the splits and fell into a forward roll before one of the male cheerleaders caught her in a bridal hold. A flawless execution.

"You ever in front of the camera, Blake?"

I sighed, still peering through the view finder despite the fact that Brecken Archer was leaning in beside me, close enough that his breath tickled my neck. Ignoring him, I continued to snap photos of the homecoming game, the sun shone down and the sky was clear, a gorgeous backdrop.

"You'd look cute in one of those cheer uniforms," he said and I lowered the camera, turning to look at him with boredom. "What? You would. Little skirt around those hips. Mhmm."

"You're a creep."

"Na not quite. You're still a bit young at the moment. Gorgeous but I'd rather wait until you're a bit more experienced."

I scoffed and turned my attention back to the game. Unfortunately, it didn't seem like my best friend's brother was going to give up any time soon.

"How about this, if you're still single when you graduate, we'll go on a date."

"Speaking of graduations," I snapped a photo of the football team filing back out on to the field after half time was over. "Yours was four months ago. You seem a bit desperate hanging around with a bunch of high school students."

"I'm here to support a friend, thanks," he nudged me with his elbow and butchered a shot that I was about to take of the gorgeous Matt Stein. Senior. Captain. Thighs thicker than Brecken's fucking brain.

"You're eighteen, Breck. I'm sixteen. Stop acting like your superior because you managed to scrape together the grades to graduate with the rest of the senior class."

"Oh. So what I'm hearing, is that you're old enough for me. Well, I'm game if you are."

"Perhaps I'd be interested if your massive ego wasn't such a clear indication of your need to make up for that tic tac in your pants."

"I could very easily prove that I'm massive in all aspects, babe."

"I'll have you done for sexual harassment. Now, go away. I'm snapping photos for the school paper."

The camera was lowered, slow, but it wasn't me and I turned to Brecken with a harsh scowl as he forced me to give him my attention. "Get your hands off my camera."

He let go, but he didn't give me the space that I'd asked for. Instead, he moved closer and closer until I was backed up against the bleachers and he rested an arm beside my head. His smug grin was gorgeous but he was such an ass that I felt not one bit flustered as he let his gaze settle on my mouth.

"Does this work?" I practically laughed in his face. "It does, doesn't it? This works on girls. That is hilarious. I mean, I can see how. If Matt Stein had me pressed against the bleachers, I would be clenching my thighs. But you're underwhelming, Breck."

His brows pinched but he still didn't move.

"Dude."

We both looked to the left and saw Dylan with his arms spread and incredulity in his features. Dylan and I had been friends for just over a year now. He and his brother were transfer students when their parents moved their business into Manhattan. Our friendship had been instant. A connection that I'd never felt before and now, we were inseparable.

"I was just asking Bea on a date," Brecken straightened and allowed me room to breathe again. He was such a sleaze. He genuinely thought he could have whoever, whenever he wanted and most of the time, it worked. But he repulsed me and he had from the moment that we met. "She said no. For now. I'll ask her again when she graduates."

"Hold your breath. Please. I'm begging you."

He grinned and nudged my jaw with his fist. "Call me, gorgeous."

Dylan watched him with a narrow glare and once Brecken was gone, his frustration fell on me. I was still clutching my camera and quickly snapped his sullen stare, amused at how adorable he looked when he was pouting. "What?" I asked when he continued to frown.

"You two looked like you were about to start banging on the bleachers."

"Well, we weren't."

"Well, that's good."

"Why?"

He recoiled with his nose wrinkled. "Because he's my brother. And he sleeps with whatever walks. And he's my brother."

"You said that."

He nodded and shuffled his feet in the grass. "Could you maybe not go there?"

"I genuinely couldn't stomach the idea of it. So relax. But if I wanted to, it really wouldn't be any of your business."

He exhaled a deep breath and it was hard to tell, but I think that I might have hurt him. I suppose what I said was a little blunt but he appreciated that about me. Well, most of the time.

"You're right," he said.

Guilt washed over me and I realised that I was so wrong. Who I slept with was not his decision to dictate. But if he didn't want me involved with his brother, for the sake of our friendship, I should respect that. I didn't have siblings or a lot of close friends. It was hard for me to comprehend but it clearly bothered him and right now, his happiness meant more to me than fighting him on something that I didn't even want in the first place.

"Your brother is a total douchebag," I snapped another photo as he raised his head and gaze me a lazy smile. "Stress less. You're the only Archer brother for me."

Snap. His smile morphed into amusement as he shook his head after I'd taken another unsuspecting picture. "Enough," he chuckled. "You're supposed to be taking photos of the cheerleaders."

"Nope. Done that. I have tons of the cheerleaders. Especially Maggie Nelson."

"Oh yeah," he wandered forward and stood beside me as I aimed the camera at the football team. Matt stood at the back of the snap and shouted his directions. Ugh. He looked gorgeous all hunched over, hands on his knees.

Dylan folded his arms when I lowered the camera again. "Should we be offended at the fact that Maggie and Matt are a living cliche?"

"What, captain of the football team dating the captain of the cheer squad? Na. I think it's cute. And it makes for gorgeous photos. Watch this."

Matt lifted his strong arm, his olive skin glistened with sweat and he threw the ball so far down the field that I expected it to be a Hail Mary. It wasn't far off. But he had the help of his wide receiver and I don't know, a few more passes were made. I didn't give it a lot of attention, I was too busy waiting for the moment. And I was not disappointed.

As soon as the score was added to the board, Matt ripped off his helmet, threw it to the ground and ran toward the edge of the field where Maggie was running from and they collided. He swept her off her feet and kissed her, hard. It made my stomach turn over as I zoomed in with the camera and snapped a swoon worthy photo. Gorgeous. When I peered over at Dylan, he was watching me with a soft smile.

"What?"

"Nothing," he shook his head and his smile grew. "Just— for someone who turns down every single date that she's asked on, you sure do appreciate romance."

I rolled my eyes and gestured at the cute senior couple. "I don't want to settle. I want that."

"Well, how do you know if you've got it or not if you don't give anyone a chance."

He thought he was so clever. "I'll know," I said. "I'll know the moment that it happens."

"Life isn't a movie, Bea. Sometimes you need to get to know someone to realise just how much you love them. It's not always immediate. But that doesn't mean that it won't be strong. Breathtaking."

"Sure, Dill. Trust me. I'll know."

Back to the present.

The late afternoon sun lowered itself behind the horizon, illuminated the tips of the water and made no promise to return tomorrow. Of course the sun would return tomorrow, even if it didn't reach out and touch its fingertips to mine so that we could shake on it, I knew it would be back tomorrow.

Still, as irrational as it was, I didn't trust that the sun would rise again. Because even though something can seem so certain, so promised, there's no such thing. Circumstances arise and sabotage even the most likely situations. Life is unpredictable, unfair and unjust. The sun might rise tomorrow, but the clouds could intercept its rays from warming us or perhaps it'll rise, it'll shine and the sky will be clear, but I won't be here to enjoy it.

A morbid thought, sure. But we have no right to assume that we'll get another sunrise. We have no more control over our future than we do over the breeze that pushes the clouds in front of our sunshine.

My mom sat on this beach, right here in Burbank, California, a long time ago. I was sure that twelve years ago when she was here, she didn't think that it would be the last time that she bathed in the glorious heat, or dipped her toes in the glass water or let the sand fall through her fingertips. I doubt she had a single idea that coming back would mean she'd be dust in an urn. That instead of sand drizzling across her skin, she would become part of the infinite grains.

I spent less than twelve hours believing that I was married to Dylan. Less than twelve hours believing that I was Mrs Bethany Anne Archer. And after all that had happened in the last few months, it was the most content that I'd been in a long time. The happiest. I was still wearing the cheap wedding ring, even though we'd left the chapel without signing the single bit of paper that would make it official, I wanted to pretend for a bit longer.

Once again, something that felt promised, so certain, was real for a short time, had been ripped from me and waved in front of my face. What did you expect, Bea. You don't get the happy ending or the parents or somewhere to call home. Stop expecting it.

I sat in the sand with the urn between my legs, on a secluded and vacant part of the beach and watched the sun setting, recalling yesterday afternoon when Howie had raised his brow, waiting to know whether Dylan and I would be signing a marriage certificate. He couldn't seem to believe it when I snatched the bit of paper out of his hand and tore it into pieces.

"He's engaged. To another woman."

The rest of our journey had been quiet and tense. Once in a while, I'd see him watching me from the corner of my eye, like he wanted to tell me something. Like he wanted me to turn to him and meet his stare and prompt whatever he wanted to get off his chest. But I didn't have the emotional capacity to listen.

As I peered down at the urn, fingertips grazing its white gold detail, the lid caught a tear and then another and I swallowed, trembling at the thought of letting mom ascend into the wind to join the breeze where her spirit would be free of pain and grief. She deserved that peace. But it still hurt.

"Alright, here's the thing, mom," I inhaled a deep breath and I let it go again and damn it I couldn't see a thing. "I promise that I'm going to do more or better or like, not be such a mess. I promise that I'm going to get a life and find a reason to smile and I'm making this promise to you because I'm desperate, mom."

My head fell between my legs and I clutched the urn. "I'm desperate to fix this mess that I've made and I don't know who else to promise. But I'll do it for you, mom. You gave me the world while I was growing up. You encouraged my dreams, you were the best example that I could have asked for and I owe it to you to be better."

Arms wrapped around my shoulders and for a split second, as fleeting as it was, it was soothing to imagine that it was her.

"I told you to give me some space," I choked back on tears.

Dylan spoke low and close beside me. "Is that really what you want?"

No.

"Help me up," I mumbled, holding one hand out and using the other to wipe my face dry. Not that it was much use when fresh tears were still falling.

Dylan lifted me and I lifted the urn, it's weight was unbearable but with him beside me, I managed to find the strength to stay upright. His hand settled on my waist and he looked down at me, his free hand cupping my cheek and swiping at my damp cheeks. "You can do this."

"It shouldn't have been her."

"No," he shook his head, his own gaze glistening. "It shouldn't have."

I looked out at the water, the sand, the sea and the sun. Even through the blur of devastation, I saw the beach through her eyes and I saw the perfection that drew her here. There was freedom in this open space. So much freedom that would have allowed her some form of escape from her confined marriage. It made sense in that moment. It was a like a slap of clarity and without a moment of hesitation, I lifted the lid off the urn and threw her into the wind.

The urn dropped at my feet and I almost fell to my knees but Dylan clutched me and drew my back into his chest, his chin resting on my head as I watched her go. "I love you, mom," I whispered and palmed my eyes so that I could see the way that the sand and the ashes danced into one and a chill settled over me, a sense of serenity offering me the promise that she was happier now.