Chapter Fifty-three

It was like he lost his parents all over again.

Drew stared at the headstone marking the remains of his parents, and his heart constricted within him. His grip on the bouquet of flowers tightened. Never had he felt so much anger.

As he read the epitaph, the words “they shouldn’t be here” kept echoing in his mind. And that did nothing to help his anger. Or grief.

He wasn’t sure he felt grief. Not when it felt like his heart was a hollow basket, and the lacrimal glands in his eyes had gotten so dry, he was no longer capable of producing tears.

Was this what grief felt like?

A soft hand covered his hand holding the flowers. Feminine fingers pried his fingers from their chokehold, collecting the flowers in the process.

Without a word, he watched his wife lay the flowers on his parent’s grave. When she turned, wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest, he held her tightly. Like she was his anchor. And she was. In this time when he felt out of touch with everything,