"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" I ask, glancing over to Cam as he strategically keeps his eyes on the road. I don't miss the small smirk playing across his lips though.

"That pretty much defeats the purpose of a surprise."

"We're already in the car," I begin to argue, "well on our way to this mysterious destination. I don't think it's completely unreasonable to think that maybe now is the perfect time to tell me where we're going."

"And I think," he says, reaching out one hand for mine while keeping his gaze steady on the road, "you're just going to have to wait until we get there."

"Or," I keep going, ignoring that flush of heat that spins around my stomach when he smiles. "I could guess. If I get it right, you tell me."

"Are you really negotiating the terms of your surprise?"

Paying little attention to his question, I turn slightly in my seat to analyze any tells he might give away. "Is it dinner?"

"Dinner will be part of it," he answers willingly.

Part of it. "So then we're doing some kind of activity?" I glance out the window, taking note of the fact that we're already past the boundaries of our small ocean town, headed inland toward the city.

"Something like that," he acknowledges.

I haven't traveled to the city too often. My dad works there, making the one hour trip there and back each and every day. It's why sometimes when he's found himself working too late, he stays with his friend Allen. It's why most mornings I'm left to eat breakfast alone, apart from the ones I get to spend with Cam.

"Something like that," I repeat his words, letting them swim around me as I analyze the meaning.

"You know you could just wait until we get there," he offers.

"I'm not done guessing."

His smile widens as his hand tightens in mine, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss along the back of my hand.

"Will there be competition involved?"

"As much as I know you'd love the opportunity to kick my ass in something, no, there's no competition."

"Then a movie?"

"No."

"A show?"

"Mackenzie," he draws out with a laugh that has me fighting back a whine. "We're almost there."

I turn my gaze out the window, noticing the veil of darkness beginning to descend the city. The lights lining the road are glittering in the late sun, battling for their own right to shine.

We pull into a large parking garage, one I've been in many times before. The thick, cemented walls laced in a bitter coldness. They weren't always that cold. There was a time when the warm yellow lighting along the ceiling was a beacon of calming familiarity. There was excitement that used to swim here, happiness and thrill.

I don't notice that the engine has stopped running or that Cam's eyes are now on me. It's not until his fingers find my chin, slowly pulling my gaze to his that I find that emerald shimmer of relief.

"Are you taking me to the symphony?" I waver.

"Technically, we're a week early, but happy birthday, Kenze." He smiles.

The tight constraint across my chest captures my breath, holding it dangerously hostage as I search for any remnant of oxygen necessary to stay present. But I'm shaking, begging for a gulp of air that never comes.

"Kenze? Hey," he pauses, pulling me closer and squeezing my hand between his. "I thought–"

"I'm okay," I quickly reply, snapping out of my daze and forcing a smile to fall across my face. The same smile that makes itself known every time I start falling.

He shifts, sliding his hand to my cheek and offering me that glisten across his eyes, the one that tells me he sees through the veil I wear as a cloak.

I can feel it, the break. Before I can bring it in, my vision blurs, the layer of tears cloud my eyes. "I've only ever been here with her," I breathe out. "It just never felt right to go without her."

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I just thought that maybe if we went together..."

My eyes fly back to his, the panic heavy against my chest. "Cam, I can't go in there."

"Can I ask you something?"

I nod slowly, taking a breath. "Yes."

"Did you like going only because you got to spend time with your mom, or did you also enjoy the show?"

I let his words settle against my chest. Thinking about all the times I've been here with my mom, getting dressed up together, stopping for dinner and milkshakes, making it a whole day between girls. And then I think about the music. About the effervescent flow of sounds that weave its way through my ribcage, capturing the essence of my heart and becoming an unspoken piece of me.

"To be honest," I pause, taking a small breath, "I loved everything about coming here. Spending time with my mom, just the two of us, and getting completely lost in the beauty of the instruments. But it doesn't feel right without her."

"What doesn't feel right?"

"Getting to feel joy when she never will. To feel so at peace in her absence."

He pulls me into his arms, reaching across the uncomfortable space of his car to provide the slightest bit of comfort. "It's okay to be happy, Kenze. To enjoy the things she once loved," he pauses to pull back a bit, to rest his eyes with mine and place his hand back along my cheek. A tear falls, resting against his hand as he holds me. "I know the weight of that. To feel like you're moving on without them. But Kenze, we can't stop living. We can't snuff out the things that bring us to life out of fear of being selfish. Your mom left you the piano to play it, to keep that joy alive inside of you. She wanted you to keep going. She wanted you to keep smiling, to keep feeling."

"It hurts without her," I cry.

His tears echo mine as a few trickle down his face. "I know. God, do I know. And if you don't want to go in there, I'll turn around right now and take us back. But if there's even one small piece of you that wants to step into that building, to feel the music again, then know that I'm right here beside you, Kenze. You're not alone."

Everything soft and heavy pulses across my chest. The soft whispers of Cam's embrace. The heavy weight of pain I've carried around for so many years. I don't want to carry it anymore.

"I want to go in," I whisper.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Just," I pause to let my hand fall into his, our fingers locking together. "Don't let go of me."

"Never."

My hand tightly in his, we slowly make our way to the theater. The streets are busy, cars rushing by, couples hand in hand sharing cherished laughter. The rush of the streets a hectic buzz, but all of it falls into an eerie silence. The world around me thrust into the distance as I take the slow and sturdy steps forward.

The last time I ventured down these very streets, I was filled with a similar warmth of laughter. My mom had a way of making moments feel filled with joy. A joy that I was starting to wonder if I'd ever feel again.

Cam's hand stays firm in mine as he hands over our tickets and slowly ushers me inside. The grand entry sweeps around me, the bright white of the walls laced in elegant gold and memories kept tucked away. Like the mural along the far wall. I used to stand beneath it, pretending to sit at the painted piano, playing as though I were part of the symphony. My mom would stand beside me, applauding at my imaginary show, tossing invisible flowers my way and blowing kisses into the air.

"It's beautiful," Cam says beside me and I nearly jump at the sound of his voice. Following his line of sight, I see he's looking at the very mural I used to get lost in. A chorus of musicians playing a variety of instruments. From pianists to violinists to brass to everything elegant.

"Yeah," I whisper back, my hand tightening in his. "I've always loved the magic of it."

His eyes shift to me, the warmth of his gaze a needed comfort. I let my own gaze slowly leave the painting and find the gentle green of his irises.

"Are you ready?"

Taking a breath to settle the frantic beats within my chest, I swallow down the lingering fear and avoidance. Slowly, I nod my head and let him lead the way inside.

The soft velvet cushions pad our seats, the shushed voices now falling within the dimmed lights. Everything is frozen and silent as my heart echoes in deafening cadence. Holding my breath, the first sound ricochets off the surrounding walls. As if I'm submerged beneath water, I gasp. Cam's hand tightens in mine as I drink in every elegant note. Each added sound is a blessing of air, a beacon of my heart.

In the matter of an instant, I'm wrapped up in all the things I've buried. Every heavy weight lifted on the feathered wings of an angel, carried away in a glittering light.

I can breathe again.

Smiling, tears staining my cheeks, I fall helplessly to the moment, lost in everything beautiful.

It's not until the show ends that I allow myself to move. Cam's hand still wrapped in mine, we stand. It's only then that I let his fingers drift from mine and I join in the chorus of cheers and claps.

Slowly, we make our way out from the theater and drift along the cool night. Without a word, he doesn't take me straight back to the car but instead allows me to continue to breathe in every freeing ounce of this moment.

We travel along the sidewalk, crossing the street to stand along the small bridge that overlooks the expanse of the bay, the quiet of the night a stark contrast to the busy streets behind us. His hand is in mine, the stale streaks of dried tears cling to my cheeks.

"Thank you," I whisper.

His eyes fall to me, his body shifting just enough for his shoulder to lean along mine. "For what?"

"For giving me a piece of my mom back."

His arm falls around me as I tuck myself into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart along my cheek.

"I know how hard it is to keep living a life without her, Kenze. But we have to keep going. For them. For ourselves."

I hide against his chest, clinging to his warmth for a moment longer before I slowly pull back and look up at him. "I didn't realize how much I missed this. How much I wanted to go to the symphony, how much I still want to play piano, to fill the house in fresh flowers and to just...feel happy. I thought ignoring it meant I was moving forward, but I had it all wrong."

The soft touch of his fingers trail my cheeks as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "Can I ask why you stopped? Why did you let all of those things go?"

"It was easier."

"For who?"

His eyes search mine, seeing straight through all of the things I've kept tucked away. "For my family," I admit. "When she first passed, I was a mess. I couldn't sleep. I'd crawl into Jare's room a shaking, blubbering mess, and he'd comfort me the best he could. But he was grieving too. I couldn't eat, I could barely go through the motions, until one day, I saw what my grief was doing to those around me. If I could just swallow it all, if I could be strong for everyone around me, then maybe they would heal."

"You buried everything so they could move on?"

"I had to. I had to help put them back together. I had to look out for them just like my mom did, just like she would have done if she were still here."

"And who's left to take care of you?"

His question echoes through me. It's one I've fended off for far too long. Because I don't need to be taken care of. I need to be strong. I need to be the anchor to my family, the heartbeat.

"I'm fine," I begin to say, but he jumps back in.

"Kenze, you are one of the strongest people I know. You're brave, you're talented and smart. You have a huge heart that is somehow always giving. But that doesn't mean you have to always be fine. It's okay to not be okay. It's okay to be sad, to be angry, to want to scream or cry. It's okay to want flowers in the house and to play the piano. It's okay to miss her, and to still feel happy even in her absence."

"Cam..." I cry, the heated tears fall along his hand as he holds my face. "I'm not okay."

He pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me as I cry. For the first time in a really long time, I truly cry. The tears flow in waves, rattling my chest and echoing along my vocal chords. Every buried ounce of pain bounces across my chest as I cling to his shirt.

"I've got you, Kenze," he whispers into my hair, pressing a kiss along my head as he holds me tighter. "I've got you."